Into the Depths – Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight
Sustaining Charity

April 28th, 2009. Tuesday, 9:51 pm.

“Very well, then,” said Slade, after a moment of silence. “I believe the lecture is over. Come to me.”

Dick’s eyes widened, the panic rising inside his chest. There was no escaping this, was there, then? Was the man really going to punish him here in the kitchen? He didn’t usually. Dick seriously hoped that the old man wouldn’t choose this time to walk down the hallway at that moment if Slade chose differently. Awkward and embarrassing much? Heck, yeah.

However, it was even more than that… Dick didn’t want the old man to know he had messed up.

But Dick’s fears were unfounded, he realized, as he looked up at the man. There was a soft expression across Slade’s young, yet masculine features. Even though Slade was fifty-four or so, the man didn’t look a day over thirty. There was such a gentleness in Slade’s face at that moment – an almost soft benevolence across those features. His arms were out to the side, his hands out in a beckoning stance.

Dick launched himself into the man’s open arms, throwing his own around the neck provided. He buried his face in the nape there, just as he felt those strong arms encompass around him and give him a powerful hug. The faded scent of that rustic, musky cologne softly wafted over Dick’s senses. He had grown to love this scent – this scent that reminded him of the powerful man that had become a father to him.

“I love you, you silly child,” whispered Slade. “You know that by now, don’t you?”

Dick nodded inside the man’s neck, not trusting his voice. The soft whisper of that smooth, gentle tone continued.

“Then, you understand why I’m saying all this, right?”

There was another nod. The voice that spoke dropped to an even lower whisper.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

The emotions inside Dick’s heart were overflowing now. He sniffled once as he tried to control them. He understood that fear. He didn’t have to worry any more, since Slade was immortal by some crazy fluke in life. But Slade did have to worry about it in Dick’s case. In some ways, it wasn’t fair to the man. There was no reason why he had to feel that fear, but unfortunately that was just a fact.

Dick’s life was fragile and ever so precious – he had been affirmed in this fact by two very special adults in his life. His life needed to be guarded and protected. How easily it could be snuffed out, like the lingering smoke of a candlestick.

As Dick stayed snuggled inside the man’s arms, there was a moment where he felt the man lift one of his arms from the hug. Automatically, Dick waited for what he was sure to follow. He had figured it was coming – worried about it, too – since the beginning of lecture.

“Which is why…”

There was a deep sigh as the man trailed off. Dick tightened his arms around the man’s neck, staying comfortably inside the embrace. He wondered if Slade would give him a few swats – for something this big, Dick honestly expected such a reprimand. However, there was a long moment of simply nothing.

Dick became confused. Why was Slade hesitating? He knew what to expect from this man who required nothing but absolute obedience and respect – something Dick truly believed the man deserved, even though he didn’t always obey perfectly. He messed up sometimes, as any child would. But this had been established for months, even before the adoption. It was this constancy that Dick found trust and peace; he knew exactly where he stood with the man and he needed that. Even when he didn’t exactly like it, he knew that he needed the trust and emotional security that such stability provided – he had actually pushed Slade to the edge to test that stability.

He needed it.

But no such reprimand came.

The same hand that sometimes met out sharp reproof was simply patting him gently on the back, bringing with it a special warmth. There was a soft moment until Slade let out another tired sigh.

“Oh, dear. Why I’m being lenient with you, I have no idea,” murmured Slade so quietly, it was as if he were speaking to himself. Dick blinked, surprised. He pulled back in the man’s arms, his hands resting on those powerful shoulders, and looked directly into that grey blue eye; seeking answers there. Slade returned the gaze; his eye glimmered once with an emotional light.

“You’re not gonna swat me, even once? Even when I deserve it?” asked Dick, whispering softly. “You usually do.”

It was beginning to happen more and more. Dick was watching Slade evolve into a better man, a kinder man, a softer man – so different from the man that had slipped into the Tower like a shadow and had stolen him away. Such soft tenderness, such gentle affection, such sweet fondness were in this man’s eye as he regarded the childlike, pleading gaze that came from Dick.

The man’s hands lifted up and encased Dick’s cheeks; warmth flooded the skin there. Slade leaned a little closer, their foreheads nearly touching as he squeezed the flesh in his hands reverently.

“No, I’m not going to swat you, child. Just… please don’t make the same poor choice concerning your identity again,” whispered Slade, his tone matching the same softness that his actions were demonstrating. Then, his voice softened even more, an almost pleading pull flowing there, “And please don’t hide things from me any more, especially when it concerns your physical and mental health. Will you promise me this?”

Dick meekly nodded in the man’s hands, wanting to please him. There was a gentle, approving smile. Dick’s heart glowed intensely. Almost immediately, he collapsed into another embrace, throwing his arms around the man’s neck once more; his heart expanding with the deep love and appreciation that he felt for Slade.

Dick wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes – stupid ones, even – and he made them all the time. He knew this and admitted it. When he’d been only Robin, he hadn’t truly and fully realized this fact. It wasn’t until he had created Red X and the events which followed that he realized just how much he could make such stupid and horrible mistakes.

The single consequence for that one action had been monumental. It hadn’t been a consequence of mere parental admonishment. It had been so much more. At first, it had been terrible. But, hidden in the uncomfortable consequence of his poor choice came an undeniably special blessing. Dick knew and understood that not all choices resulted in something like this.

Thus, he was proud to be Slade’s son, because somehow, he knew that the man would keep him straight. Slade would never allow him to make certain mistakes – no doubt, Dick would never make a mistake like Red X again, with or without Slade’s interference. Despite the errors that Slade had made in his own life, Dick trusted the man to protect and guide him aright.

It was in this very moment, Dick could feel the man’s deep love for him. He could feel Slade’s reluctance in giving him a sharp punishment. He could feel the man’s plea that Dick listen and obey, so that he wouldn’t have to discipline Dick severely. A parent never wanted to punish their child. It wasn’t fun. It was difficult. There was nothing enjoyable about that side of being a parent.

And Dick could feel that – he could feel that Slade had reached this level of love for him. In all sense of the word, Slade had become Dick’s parent – his father, even going beyond the bonds of blood.

They had come so far – leagues in the distance of the soul.

Two different people – two very different people brought together in the most unimaginable way. It even went far deeper than one could truly understand. It glorified the capacity of the heart, showing love at its most innocent, at its most pristine, even to the point of touching the divine possibility that resided within the heart – a love, a charity which culminated in the very purest of all the emotions that existed in the world.

A true family bond – a true Father and Son bond, never to be forgotten.

That was how sacred the heart was; that was how sacred love was between two people – no matter the origins, no matter the whispers of the world. Love had found its way into their hearts and would remain so – it would never fade away.

There was a light chuckle. It rumbled through Slade’s body and flowed into Dick’s as he stayed connected to the man through the warm hug.

“Maybe I’ve finally gone soft.”

“Soft is good,” whispered Dick, snuggling a little deeper into the man’s hold. Soft was definitely good. Soft was amazing. To put ‘soft’ and ‘Slade’ in the same context months ago would’ve been laughable. Now, Dick couldn’t see the man in any other light. There was another chuckle and a firmer pat on the back.

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm,” murmured Dick with a nod. Somehow, he wormed his way onto the man’s lap without ever removing his arms. There was another tremor of chuckling that flowed over him, and then a firm, yet gentle pat on his hip. Dick let out a deep sigh, basking in the safety that he felt from this man.

How lucky was he? How lucky was Dick to have this? He could have this moment, this soft moment of being close to his father, being held by such a special man – after years of missing out on a parent’s love and affection. There was no one to tell him he couldn’t just sit here like a child in the man’s lap. There was no one to tell him to hurry up and grow up. There was no one to make fun of him – and even then, Dick had a feeling he’d blush for a brief moment, before telling them to shut it; all the while continuing to enjoy his father’s kindness and indulgence.

What a blessing; what a true and beautiful gift.

It was funny how, in one breath, he didn’t want to be treated like a child, but in the next breath, he basked in these soft moments like the driest sponge soaking up water. He supposed, in that very moment, it was better to endure his father’s insistence at childlike punishments if he could have these warm, soft, and gentle moments like this.

The tradeoff was well worth it.

There was another sigh that escaped Dick’s breathing, his body relaxing even further in the hold. He was getting tired again. His eyes were slowly drooping closed. Wouldn’t it be nice just to stay right where he was until morning? Maybe then he wouldn’t be haunted by the nightmare. Maybe his nightmare would be too afraid to come after him if he were inside these strong, protecting arms. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a safe slumber? After all, his father would protect him, right?

But before Dick could fully drift into a peaceful sleep, there was a low sigh; the vibrations once again flowing from the man to Dick’s body.

“Now, tell me about this nightmare you’ve been having.”

Dick’s eyes popped open, the panic washing over him in an awakening alarm.

“Do I have to?”

There was a snort and a firm pat on his lower hip.

“No, but then maybe I’ll reconsider my extreme generosity tonight and we can continued this talk in your room, hm?”

Good ol` Dad and his ever perfect coercing ways.

There was a forlorn sigh.

“Fine…

“I’m sorry, Dick, but this is very important,” said Slade, truly sounding regretful; patting him once more softly. “I need to know what this nightmare is since it’s greatly affecting you so much. Please understand, your health and wellbeing are my first priorities here.”

Dick only nodded. He understood where his father was coming from, but it certainly didn’t make it any easier, that was for sure. He just wasn’t sure how well he could articulate the nightmare without breaking down and crying. He honestly didn’t want to do that. But to voice those deaths out loud, only to see them flash before his eyes in his waking moments was a bit too much for his gentle heart.

But Dick felt protected at that moment and he needed that. It was different than talking to the man on the phone. He was surrounded by strong, warm arms that were powerful enough to literally punch through stone walls, but were soft enough to give tender hugs. Here, he was safe. Here, nothing could harm him. Here, he could be the child that he was.

So, in the soft, protecting arms, Dick continued to sit in his father’s lap as he began to relate the nightmare. Slade didn’t let him leave out any details. It was hard talking about the world that had appeared so lifeless in his dream. He hated speaking about the horrible crimson sky, the landscape filled with corpses, and the demonic crows that feasted greedily. But he remained stoic as best as he could through it.

It was when he had to talk about the deaths of those he loved dearly that he begun to break down. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop himself. His shoulders shook from his effort to hold back his tears, yet they wouldn’t listen to him. This was why he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to cry about something that hadn’t happened. He didn’t want to verbalize any potential of it, either. He hated remembering those images. He hated seeing them dead.

It was his worst fear of all.

He couldn’t bear to lose any more of his friends and family. He had already lost his parents, he had already watched them die once; but the thought of losing his friends and his new family was more than he could handle. He’d been given a new chance. It was as if the nightmare was telling him not to get used to it – because it could all be taken away in an instant.

Slade was patient in perfect kindness as Dick choked out the final bits of this horrible moment inside his dream. The man’s hand tenderly stroked his back, soothing the troubled nature inside Dick’s heart. Never before had Dick felt and appreciated such a patient man. He wasn’t the only one that had grown – Slade, too, had grown in ways that never had been imagined. Dick couldn’t have done this without that patience and soft care.

Unfortunately…

There was more to the dream.

Somehow, though, Dick couldn’t say more.

How could he? How could he explain who that creature was? He couldn’t tell Slade that it was some evil, random person. The man would question, drill, and extract every last detail of his appearance from Dick. It wouldn’t take him much longer to make the connection – that horrible, evil creature was actually Dick’s opposite.

And then what?

What would Slade think? What would the man say, then?

He was losing his mind, wasn’t he? Dick had to be going crazy, just like his doppelganger had mocked and taunted. He was losing the final shreds of his sanity; the tattered strips becoming dust to be scattered in the wind. If he told Slade, what would the man tell him? Would he confirm this fact? Would he have a face of pity? Of comfort? Or would he show a face of fear?

A face of fear or a face of pity were the two things Dick did not want to see. He couldn’t handle it – it would only confirm that something was wrong; that something was very wrong. It would only confirm that he truly was going insane.

He couldn’t let that happen, no matter what.

“Oh, Dick,” murmured Slade finally, when there was a pause in Dick’s narrative; the man’s arms tightening around him in a protecting manner. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” whispered Dick, unable to stop his shoulders from trembling. He hadn’t said everything – he couldn’t. Was Slade going to press for more information? What was he going to do? Could Dick truly deny his father such information?

He had no choice.

“I know, but you’ve been suffering alone,” said Slade, his voice extremely pained. “What kind of father am I when my son is suffering so much?”

“Dad, really, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who didn’t say anything,” said Dick, feeling bad now. It wasn’t Slade’s fault; it was his. “You can’t fix everything.”

“I can try,” drawled Slade, deeply chuckling and sending more welcoming tremors through Dick’s body. He giggled softly, appreciating Slade’s desire to help and protect him.

There were a few moments of silence as Dick stayed inside the hug, never wanting to leave it again. But his heart was pounding inside his chest; worried if he would be pressed further. The anxious anxiety was increasing his heart rate – all because he knew what his answer would be. And, in the end, he would hate himself for it.

Then, his father’s quiet voice spoke up; never failing.

“Is there anything else?”

There was a pause. Gentle breathing could be heard within the room. There was a swallow and the tightening of arms around a large neck. A heart pounded harder, threatening to burst through its cavity.

“No, sir,” whispered Dick.

It was in that very moment that Dick knew he had just lied. Even after the man had been so soft and so compassionate, Dick had just repaid him by breaking his promise.

It made Dick feel very sick to his stomach and utterly disgusted with his actions.

He wanted nothing more than to open his mouth at that moment and confess to lying. If this is what it felt like, he never wanted to lie to his father again. He was having a literal physical reaction to it and he absolutely despised it. His stomach was churning and his heart was twisting inside his chest. He desperately needed it to stop. If he confessed, it would go away, right?

Unfortunately, his mouth wouldn’t listen to him. His heart cried out to him to clear the air, to relieve the horrible feeling that was rising inside his stomach, but his voice had no strength. His heart pleaded with him to release the pressure, but his mind rejected all petitions.

After all, it wasn’t exactly normal for someone to be confronted with their dark self. It wasn’t normal to hear that dark self claim it was going to destroy everything that Dick had ever known. It wasn’t normal to hear that same dark self claim that it would kill its opposite – meaning Dick.

It was certainly not normal to interact with that dark self so much. It felt so real. It was more than just a nightmare. Dick truly felt as if he were there, living every single horrible moment. And when that doppelganger showed up every time at the end, taunting him, mocking him, threatening him, Dick couldn’t help be thoroughly frightened for his sanity.

Would Slade be worried for his sanity, too, if Dick told him this part of the nightmare?

“Are you sure? Don’t leave anything out. You’re sure you’ve remembered everything?” asked Slade with a gentle pat on the back. Dick’s breath caught in his throat; completely frozen in the moment.

Fate had given him a second chance.

What would happen if he chose to listen to it? If he revealed what he was holding back, what would that do for the future? Would it alter the course of events? Could a simple choice of choosing between telling the truth and telling a lie really be the separation of paths, a fork in the road? Could such a choice really transcend higher than just the outcome of whether or not he would be punished for a poor mistake?

Dick wouldn’t know it at that moment, but his simple choice would have that much power. Sometimes in life, a single choice truly did have that much supremacy – whether for good or for ill. Most of the time, however, such makers of these choices will never know until it’s too late to alter the course of the path they have chosen to step forward upon.

However, even when such a choice seems irreparable and the path discouraging, there’s always a chance to fix things.

“Yes, sir, I’m sure I’ve remembered everything,” whispered Dick, closing his eyes as he submitted to the lie he had just spoken. It was just one lie. His father wouldn’t find out. He didn’t need to find out. No one needed to know about him. No one needed to know what truly lurked inside Dick’s mind.

I’m sorry…

But no one must know.

Not even you, Dad.

Of course, that was what Dick thought. He thought that nothing would come from a single decision. Unfortunately, one lie generally leads to another. Thus, his sole choice would bring about great consequences; a solitary choice that would shake the very foundations of his heart. If he had chosen the other path, certain events would not play out and perhaps a life could have been spared a deep amount of emotional pain – a life he could’ve rescued from the heartache. But this was not to be, due to his single choice. However, despite the poor choice he had just chosen, not all would be lost.

There was always hope for change, for a second chance, for eventual renewal – even when part of the journey was a terrible one.

There was a tired sigh.

“Well, this nightmare certainly is disturbing,” said Slade. “I don’t understand why you would be having such a nightmare and a recurring one at that. Perhaps your mind is worried about something? Mmm… You aren’t playing any violent video games or watching any movies of that sort, are you?”

“No, sir,” said Dick, shaking his head and beginning to feel sleepy again. “Beast Boy likes to get those old horror movies, but they’re not this scary. Gotham feels like a happy unicorn fairy tale compared to this nightmare.”

Slade snorted.

“That is far more disturbing than I can begin to state.” There was another exhale of breath and a pat on the back. “All right, imp, time for bed.”

“Mmm…” murmured Dick, tightening his hold around Slade’s neck. He was too comfortable to be moved at that moment. He wanted to stay in these warm, protecting arms all night long. He felt the gentle tremors of chuckling melding into his body. The man that he refused to let go slowly stood, hefting him up into the air. Dick’s legs automatically curled upward, just as arms move to support his weight; a gentle hand patting his seat.

In his sleep muddled mind, Dick had to admit, he rather liked being carried like this. There were times when he hated being treated like a child. But this side of being a child he could get used to all too well. When he was younger, after the deaths of his parents, he hadn’t known such things. Bruce never carried him like this, nor did he offer any physical affection. Dick had been starved for it, but had buried that need deep within his heart.

But now, there was no need to bury it. He could have as much as he wanted whenever he wanted. And at that very moment, he was exhausted. What better time for his father to carry him to bed and tuck him in – all to chase away the nightmares? And with that thought in his mind, Dick began to slip in and out of sleep, basking in the warmth and protection that he felt.

All because of those strong arms.

Slade stepped down the hallway and to the boy’s bedroom; holding the extremely tired boy in his arms. He found that he wasn’t at all bothered by the task. Once he entered the bedroom, he lowered the boy to sit onto the bed. Dick’s shirt was dirty from the strenuous day of training and in no condition to be slept in – neither were his pants. With a sigh, He pulled Dick to his feet – although, the child wavered precariously, his eyes blinking drowsily – and he patted the sleepy boy on the cheek, trying to rouse him.

“Dick, you need to change. Your clothes are filthy.”

The boy mumbled something underneath his breath. Slade tried to coax him out of sleep, but it just wasn’t working. The boy was shot finally – exhaustion complete. Then, the boy lifted his arms and a content, almost childlike expression filled his young features. Slade raised an eyebrow, letting out a snort once he realized what was going on.

“I am not going to dress you, you silly boy.”

Slade was met with that pleasant, contented expression; those arms never moving down. Even in his sleep, the adorable brat was stubborn. Slade bit back a sigh and grabbed the bottom of the boy’s shirt, effectively lifting it away from his body. Arms collapsed at his sides, the boy slightly wavering and blinking sleepily once more. Just as Slade was going to toss the shirt aside, he stopped suddenly, seeing the marred scars that decorated the bare skin. He could readily see the three bullet wounds that had been left by the Joker.

One resided on his arm, another on his shoulder, and the final visible one marked a section in his chest – one that was dangerously close to his heart. Slade found himself lifting a hand to lightly touch that scar. His throat contracted as he swallowed, pain clenching his heart as his finger glanced against the scar.

Slade had to consider the boy lucky. Bullet wounds didn’t always heal nicely, especially when shot at such a close distance. The scar tissue was more than apparent on the boy’s skin, but it wasn’t horrible as some of the healed wounds Slade had seen in Vietnam.

The bullet wounds had sunken into Dick’s skin, however. It was obvious he’d been shot – a small, gaunt section of skin which attested to a hole once being there. How awful that such a mark had its place on this child’s body. And what was worse? There was more than one. The boy had been shot four times, the other unseen one on his calf. He’d been an even younger child than he was now when it had occurred. He’d been through so much at such a tender age.

And even before that…

Slade had seen it once before. It had been about six months ago, two months into the time Slade had taken the boy away from the Tower. Dick had burned himself somehow while cooking and had shed his shirt in the process. When Slade had seen the bullet wounds for the first time, after only hearing about them, the sight of them had turned his stomach with nausea.

But then, he had forced the boy around to show him further scars that he’d been trying to hide from Slade.

What Slade had been expecting, he still wasn’t sure. The boy had acted embarrassed about showing his scars. Slade had figured some adolescent reason for the shy, yet nervous way Dick had backed away from him. He had also figured it couldn’t have been a big deal – and his ‘apprentice’ should have no secrets from him.

Well, that was what he had thought at the time.

But one thing Slade was sure of, he hadn’t been expecting to see the ridged, striped skin of lash marks on the boy’s back. They crisscrossed the majority of his lower torso with a few stray stripes on his upper torso. The skin had healed, the color unchanged much, but the lash was a horrible creature; creating risen flesh to forever scar the young boy’s skin. For the amount of scars that resided on Dick’s back, Slade estimated that he had to have received around twenty lashes.

All twenty of them had been lashed with unforgiving evil across an eleven year old’s back.

Slade blinked, his mood awakening from his deep thinking as Dick suddenly plopped onto the bed, still half asleep. He lifted his legs slightly, wiggling them once. A soft chuckle escaped Slade’s lips, the dark mood lifting slightly. Even with the horrific past, the boy was still that: a boy. The last time he had dressed a child for bed had been many years ago. He never imagined he would find himself in this situation again. He briefly wondered if Dick were taking full advantage of having a parent again in his life.

Probably was.

Well, there was no real harm in indulging the child.

Although, Slade had an inkling that if the boy had been awake and possessed his full senses, he would’ve been undeniably embarrassed about standing in the same room with his father, wearing only a pair of boxers – of which design and color would remain unknown for the poor boy’s sake.

Needless to say, Slade didn’t allow the half awake, pleasantly contented, and thoroughly oblivious child to remain so for long. He quickly retrieved a long shirt from one of the drawers. When Slade had turned back to slip it over the boy’s head, he stopped short, sharply inhaling and feeling the air nearly strangle him.

Dick had turned around and was fiddling with the blankets in his tiredness, trying to find something beneath them; all the while giving Slade a full view of those old scars.

Slade’s breath was caught in his throat, nearly suffocating him.

He never wanted to see them again.

But they were burning inside his eye once more. Slade swallowed, closing his eye briefly and wishing he could block out the image. No child should’ve gone through something like that – especially when that child was Dick. He was such a special boy. His heart was unlike anything Slade had ever had the privilege of knowing. Despite the silly mistakes that Dick sometimes made, there was just something so good about him.

In a swift moment, Slade had opened his eye again and was at Dick’s side; quickly turning him around, lifting his arms up, and slipping the nightshirt over his thin body – effectively blocking out all old scars. Dick’s hair became ruffled like a bird’s nest, but he still had that sappy, pleasant look on his face. Slade helped the exhausted boy into bed, easily tucking him in underneath the warm comforter.

A contented sigh passed from Dick’s lips as he settled softly. Slade carded a hand through the boy’s hair; lacing his fingers through those black strands.

“Why does everything bad happened to you?” murmured Slade in question. It had been a quiet question, one spoken to the universe and not to an actual person. Thus, Slade was a little startled to hear a reply from the half asleep child.

“Not everything… bad,” whispered Dick, his voice mumbled with his tiredness.

“Oh?” responded Slade, matching the boy’s whisper; not really believing his answer. How could he? The child had been through so much terror in his young age. “Name one good thing that’s happened to you, hm?”

“You.”

Slade inhaled sharply. The boy had spoken almost instantly, without delay nor long thought – as if the very term had been ingrained inside his heart. Such an answer came when the child wasn’t fully aware of himself; therefore, it could’ve only come from the heart. Dick meant that single word with his very soul. Already, the boy was breathing deeply, unaware of just how much he had touched his father’s heart, mind, and soul.

Slade swallowed once, his throat contracting somewhat as it pushed the lump down that had built inside.

He leaned down, gently brushing black bangs from the boy’s forehead with a thumb; his fingers sliding into the hair near the temple. For a moment, he hesitated. It was very brief, however, and he gave into his fatherly instincts ever so effortlessly. Slade pressed his lips against the child’s brow and kissed him softly.

“Good night, son,” whispered Slade. “Sweet dreams.”

ooOOOOOoo

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