PART 3

Flight.

He loved to fly.

He had been *born* to fly.

There was nothing like the sensation of soaring through the air, the wind on his face and in his hair, so high in the air that nothing and no one could touch him. The sense of freedom was euphoric. Absolute pure bliss and he was one of very few who could do it. He was special. As a small child, he had dazzled audiences with his ability to fly through the air, to perform twists and turns and somersaults, in defiance of gravity. Those people down below, staring up at him in pure awe and delight were slaves to gravity, but not him. Never him. *He* was an acrobat. Powerful and above the common people…above the simple gymnast. *He* was a Lord of flight.

But even an all powerful lord can fall sometimes.

It's rare, but it happens. But not to him. *Never* to him.

Oh, really?

He soared through the air effortlessly, a being of pure beauty, the people below gasping and cheering, crying for more, demanding that he go higher, that he do more dangerous stunts. Grinning, he obliged them, going higher than he ever had before, barely able to see them now. With a thrilling yell, he dived back down towards Earth, preparing for his most spectacular move ever… But, something was wrong. His grin faded as his speed increased beyond his control. He was no longer flying now, but falling. Down, down, down faster and faster until…

He came, not to the sudden and horrific stop he had thought was coming, but to a bouncing one. Up and down, up and down, until, finally, he came to a halt, slightly disoriented. Looking around, he found himself in the net and was flabbergasted by it. He *never* landed in the net. He had never needed one before. He had never missed before. *Never*. He tried to get up so he could investigate what had gone wrong, but found himself unable to. The net clung to him like a web, keeping him trapped like the prey he was. He struggled fiercely, crying out for help from the people below, but they had all vanished, unimpressed by his performance. He had *fallen*. What good was he if he couldn't defy gravity? He wasn't special, not anymore. He was just another slave to gravity. Like them.

Like a 'nobody'.

His searching gaze suddenly landed on something that filled him with fear. A pair of red glowing eyes watched him from the darkness. Slowly, as if stalking him, they drew nearer, and a soft, predatory growl reached his ears, increasing the fear that had latched onto him like a leach. The eyes…that *thing* was now on top of him, it's breath hot and rank on his face. He cried out and struggled against it, managing to throw it off him once, but he was still unable to escape while tangled up in the net. With a whimper of fear, he turned on his side and curled up as best he could, seeing, even with his eyes closed, the shadow fall over him. He felt something rough and somehow sticky at the same time grip him painfully tight, immobilizing him. He let out another cry, his whole body stiffening, waiting for the end…

Movement…someone holding him…holding him so *close*. Oh God! What….Master?! His eyes flew open, instantly alert. All his senses had jumped from resting to full-on-red-alert so suddenly that it had actually added to his disorientation. His heart pounded so hard, he was sure it was going to rip itself right out of his chest, like in that movie Alien. For a quick second, he remembered thinking how horribly cool that scene had been before realizing that his pulse was pounding so hard, he could barely hear anything. It was like a hurricane wind was blowing right through his head, which added more to his confused state. His eyes darted around his surroundings and, not immediately recognizing anything, his disorientation graduated to deep, mind-numbing panic.

His breathing grew faster and harder as all of his instincts kicked into survival mode, especially when his mind remembered that he was trapped in the arms of the psycho who had so skillfully and masterfully entrapped him. "No!" he shouted and started to struggle against the hold on him. Against the newest threat to his body and mind. NO! "Get off! Let me *go*!" His mind flashed quickly to the dream-turned-horrible nightmare he'd just had, to the monster that had tried to devour him. He could still smell its stench, still feel its rough, sticky grip. But he wasn't free, was he? He'd simply left the company of one monster and fallen into the hands of another. It seemed that both the dream world and reality had conspired against him. He was no longer safe in either place. He would never be safe again. Not until death finally claimed him.

When the arms---he wasn't sure who had him right now---only tightened their grip on him, he struggled harder, the panic and terror at the thought of what was happening drove his strength up to almost inhuman levels, his panic pushing any bit of reason that might have remained right out the door. "Please, master, *no*!" he cried out, tears beginning to stream down his sickly, pure-white cheeks. He would *not* allow this to happen! That bastard could do anything else, but not this! He would *not* submit, he didn't care *what* kind of punishment Slade dished out! He lashed out any way he could considering the confining space he was in. He kicked, scratched, even bit when he found the opportunity. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, mixing with his own blood from where he'd bitten something during his struggles in the grip of blind panic. But still, his attacker would not release him.

His struggles and fear soared to new heights when he was forced onto his back, weight placed on his legs to keep them immobilized and his arms pinned across his chest in straight-jacket style. Oh God no! *Please* no! his mind screamed as he realized that, despite his struggles, he could not stop what was about to happen. Slade was just too strong for him. It was something the despicable, evil man had enjoyed driving home to him every chance he got. And now…now he was going to teach him that lesson in the most ultimate and final way possible. He stopped struggling for a just a moment as he considered that thought, his body trembling so violently that it must have looked like he was having a small seizure.

He couldn't win. He had to submit. Slade would never stop until he fully possessed Robin, heart, mind, body and spirit… He looked up with terrified eyes into the malicious eye of Slade and a choking sob escaped him, hurting his chest. It was that pain, mixed with seeing that terrible, *evil* eye, that snapped something inside of him. Something primitive that had always refused to give in had broken free and snarled in defiance of that eye that wanted to do such evil to him. It possessed him…filled him with new strength and determination and, with a fierce primal snarl, he renewed his efforts to free himself with an even greater strength than before.

*SLAP*!

"*DICK*!"

He froze at the use of his name… *His* name.

The pain of the strike to his cheek was rapidly fading into the background. He'd heard something in that shout… Something he shouldn't have… Fear and concern, among other things. Had he been hearing things in his desperation to free himself from what Slade had intended to do? He was so certain he'd heard fear and desperation mixed with worry in that one shout of his name, that it brought back some of his sanity in an effort to solve the developing mystery. He was pretty sure Slade was incapable of the emotion he'd heard in the voice. All that monster had ever shown Dick was anger and seduction. He'd never shown true concern or compassion for Dick, only seeing him as a hunk of meat meant to be molded into some kind of sick carbon copy of the man himself-if he could be called a man.

But that wasn't the only thing that had given Dick pause. Slade's voice had sounded different, aside from the unusual emotions. He'd sounded like... Bruce?

"Dick, it's okay! It's just me, you're safe!"

Dick's eyes, which had closed at some point, now leapt open to track and focus on the source of the voice that had once again sounded like Bruce. His chest heaved as his thoughts tried to drag him down into a deep, dark void of never-ending fear while his reason tried to ground him and make him see what was really going on. He blinked rapidly and, ever so slowly, Slade's glowering face melted away to be replaced by a haggard Bruce leaning over him. A quick glance down showed it was his mentor…his father holding him down, and another frantic look around revealed that Slade was nowhere to be found. At least, not in his current line of vision…

"B…Bruce?" The question slipped out past his lips as a whimper. At the same time as his body relaxed in the sheer relief of finding himself with Bruce and not…*him*, shame rushed through, mixing with the relief and replacing the fear and horror of just a moment ago.

Again.

*Again* he'd failed and showed his fear…had given into blind panic and had made a fool of himself in front of the one man he respected above all else. He closed his eyes and turned his head away, swallowing hard, unable to look at his guardian, unable to face the disappointment and disgust he knew the other man had to be feeling toward him.

Bruce released him almost immediately upon hearing his name and the stricken, shaky teen instantly scrambled up to the headboard where he hugged his knees to his chest, instinctively curling into himself in an effort to protect his body even as his eyes darted around the room in one last attempt to ensure that Slade was not there.

I'm in Bruce's room, Dick thought, finally recognizing where he was and remembering how he came to be there, his body relaxing just a little bit more at the realization only to then grow tense once more with the awareness that Bruce was yet very close by. Still on the bed with him in fact… His eyes flew back to Bruce, who was sitting back and watching him quietly, a strange intensity in his gaze normally reserved for the Bat.

Dick's gaze jerked away from that, unable to cope with and comprehend what that intensity was telling him. Instead, his eyes widened a little when he saw blood trickling down from one corner of his mentor's mouth and a dark mark forming under his left eye. Ice gripped Dick's heart as he realized *he* had caused that damage. 'Oh no! Oh noonononono…' his mind ranted as the fear shot up again and he somehow managed to curl up tighter, certain he would be punished for this latest transgression. Maybe… maybe he would understand…maybe Dick would be let off just this once…

"Oh, God…Bruce! I…I…"

Bruce, suddenly aware of the blood trickling down his cheek, slowly and gently wiped it away and gave Dick a calm, reassuring look as his hands moved down to the bedcovers in as much an effort to keep himself (and perhaps even the Bat) under control, as it was to keep them where his wide-eyed ward could see them. "It's all right, Dick," he said softly, soothingly, as if trying to tame a wild animal. Because he was beginning to understand that maybe he was. "You know looks can be deceiving. You didn't hurt me." Seeing the boy was still deeply rattled, still only half-listening, Bruce continued consolingly, "Take a deep breath, Dick. Calm down…breathe… Remember who I am, that I'm here for you, that I'm not going to hurt you. You're home and you're safe."

Dick hesitated for a few seconds, and then did as instructed, keeping his eyes glued to Bruce and breathing deeply, struggling to bring himself under control even as his senses remained on alert for any hidden danger that may have been lurking, unseen in the room. A rather difficult task considering the intense fright he'd just had, not to mention the adrenalin still racing through his body and clouding his thinking.

As he relaxed, his mind slowly cleared and he soon found himself combing his memory, desperately needing to confirm his reassurance to Batman that Slade had never done…*that* to him. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it if he stumbled upon some repressed memory that contradicted what he *did* remember. With what had just happened, he was unable to shake off the lingering fear that he just *might* be repressing something. That maybe…just maybe, Slade *had* crossed that terrible, hideous line and had really and truly made Robin *his*…

Movement from Bruce startled him and his gaze, which had dropped ever so slightly as he thought, immediately snapped back to the older man as an almost threatening little growl escaped his lips. The sound made Bruce, who had patiently been shifting positions on the bed, freeze in surprise, his earlier thoughts of taming a wild animal coming back in force. Keeping perfectly still and calm, he kept eye contact and murmured softly, reassuringly, "It's okay, Dick. You're still safe. Remember what I said about breathing. Calm your mind, son…"

Dick swallowed hard and resumed his deep breathing, eyes still locked on Bruce, tracking any bit of movement he made. His mind and body were just barely starting to calm when there was a knock on a door he couldn't see that caused him to jump in fright, a harsh gasp escaping his lips. His eyes darted back to Bruce as the man moved again, giving him a view of the dreaded door and he instinctively pressed himself back into the headboard as if trying to dig into it and disappear. With his line of vision now clear, he stared at said door, certain that one monster or another was going to walk through it and drag him back into its terrible embrace.

'Oh God!' his mind screamed as the door slowly started to open. 'What if this is a dream and I'm not really here? What if I'm still there with him and he's coming back for another round? Oh God please! *Please* help me!' He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them and watched intently and fearfully as the door opened completely and a concerned looking Alfred appeared, poking his head and half his upper body into the room.

"Master Bruce?" the elder man inquired softly, wise eyes taking in the scene before him, not missing the desperate way Dick was trying to disappear into the headboard and tracking the butler's movements with eyes the elderly man didn't recognize. Nor did he miss how carefully Bruce had his hands in open view. Whatever he thought of the situation he'd walked in on, not a hint of it appeared in his voice as he continued mildly, "Is everything all right? I heard shouting."

Bruce nodded, face turned away from Alfred, his reassuring gaze never leaving Dick. "Everything's fine, Alfred," he said, his voice carefully modulated to match the sereneness of his eyes, for Dick's sake if not his own. "Just a little panic attack, that's all. We'll be down to breakfast shortly."

Alfred wordlessly looked from Bruce to Dick, perhaps determining everything was under control in his own way, or as much as it could be at that moment, and quietly left the room.

Bruce gave Dick another moment of tranquil silence before asking softly, "Are you all right?"

No, Dick thought despairingly even as he nodded a small 'yes.' I'll never be okay again. Not now, anymore…

Concern flashed through Bruce's eyes, although he was careful not to make a comment about it. He could quite easily see that Dick *wasn't* all right, but decided not to push just yet. There would be time to talk about this incident later, *after* they discussed the events of last night. He really didn't want to risk setting the boy off again. Not after the progress he had made the previous night and this morning. "All right," he murmured finally. "Did you want to shower before breakfast?"

Dick nodded quickly, feeling horribly unclean right then as he thought of Slade's hands on his body and what they had done to him. His breath hitched as he thought, '*Might* have done. *Might*. I can't…he couldn't have… Oh God, I'm going to be sick!' Without waiting for Bruce to say anything more, he jumped out of the bed and hurried from the room. Once back in his own bedroom, he immediately raced into his bathroom, where he emptied what little was in his stomach. Resting his forehead against he bowl, he closed his eyes and struggled to erase the images still rushing through his head. He shuddered, feeling the ghostly caress of Slade's hands on his body, his hot breath in his ear and on his neck… He curled his hands into tight fists, trying to chase the images and feelings away with the pain of his nails digging into his skin.

His mind abruptly jumped to his dresser where it knew relief lay and, forcing himself to get up, he stumbled out of the bathroom and to his dresser where he retrieved a whole pill instead of half of one, nearly dropping it as he was shaking so badly. He swallowed it down quickly and closed his eyes, feeling the little pill work its magic. Within moments, he felt wonderfully detached from the chaos raging in his heart. With calmness now dominating his body and mind, Dick disappeared into the bathroom for a nice, hot shower.

******

Alfred looked up as Bruce made his appearance in the kitchen, and raised an elegant brow at the darkening bruise under the younger man's left eye. Turning his attention back to what he was doing, he asked, "I assume, Master Bruce, that the young master is now attempting to make himself presentable. Care to tell me what really happened?"

Bruce shrugged, already having mastered his emotions, and replied, "Panic attack. Like I said upstairs."

Alfred nodded and turned, holding up a pot so that Bruce could see his own reflection. "Indeed, Master Bruce. And I suppose you expect me to believe that *that* came from a little walk into a door?" He paused, then added, "Really now, I simply *must* have those doors replaced with ones that don't possess fists."

Bruce sighed in defeat and nodded, running a hand through his freshly washed hair. "That kid's head is a lot worse off than I anticipated," he murmured, then proceeded to tell his oldest and most trusted friend about the events of the previous night and what had happened earlier. "I'm not afraid to admit it, Alfred. I'm terrified for him. His mental state is just so…fragile." He ran his hand through his hair again in a nervous gesture. "There's so much trauma hidden inside him..."

He looked up and focused piercing eyes on his own guide and confidant, and found himself thinking once again of this morning's events. The kid's panicked reactions to such an innocent touch hadn't been far from his mind since it had happened. He couldn't help but start to mentally list all the reasons that could cause it, for all that he was trying not to. It was a long, sickening list. "How can I help Dick when I can't predict how he'll react to the littlest thing, when there's so much he's not telling us?"

"These things take time, master Bruce," Alfred replied, his voice filled with the wisdom gained through long years of experience in caring for this particular family. "He hasn't been home long, after all, and last night was a good step forward. Perhaps you might make even more progress today during your outing."

Bruce titled his head a little, looking at Alfred in confusion. "Outing?"

"Yes sir," Alfred replied, setting a glass of orange juice down in front of Bruce. "I've taken the liberty of canceling all your appointments for today and requested that the horses be brought up from the stables."

Bruce blinked as the conversation took an unexpected turn, even though a part of him knew that he shouldn't have been so surprised. Alfred was always springing things on him. The man had a way of springing things on him that even his most dangerous foes couldn't manage. Alfred could give them lessons. "Why? What will I be doing instead?" he asked, doing his best to keep his resignation out of his voice for all that he was sure Alfred had heard it anyway. He'd long since learnt not to resist Alfred when the older man got devious like this.

"Because, young sir," Alfred answered patiently, "there is no better way for reaching the heart and soul than being in the arms of nature." He set a plate of bacon and eggs down before Bruce with his usual flourish. "Now, I do suggest you eat up, Master Bruce. The horses will be here within the hour."

"What horses?" Dick asked, entering the room before Bruce could even think to say anything. The youngest of the trio moved with an almost fluid grace as he headed for the table, completely composed and with no trace of his earlier panic anywhere. Though there was something in his eyes…a watchfulness that held an eerie quality in it. Like he was expecting the king of all terrors to leap out at any second, and was more than ready to meet it head on.

"Ah, good morning, Master Dick," Alfred answered cheerfully. "Would you fancy orange or apple juice with your breakfast this morning?"

"Orange, please," Dick replied, sitting down at the table and watching the elderly man bustle around the kitchen.

Bruce cautiously studied Dick carefully as he sipped at his own orange juice, careful to hide his regard by lowering his head over his breakfast plate. While the teen looked *very* collected and at ease, he was also *too* composed after what had just happened. Every bone, every muscle, every instinct that Bruce had ever possessed was telling him that something was off. There was something in Dick's calmness that simply wasn't natural and shouldn't have been there. He had picked up that unnatural feeling many times in the last week, but it had never been as strong as it was now. And that gave him a very bad feeling, which, of course, caught the Bat's attention, who was watching now too, riveted by the boy's behavior.

Dick, sensing he was being watched despite Bruce's attempts to hide it, turned his gaze to Bruce. The wonderful, euphoric calmness rushing through his system would remain with him for a good long while thanks to having taken a whole pill instead of half of one. The voices were silent, but his instincts were strongly advising caution. There was a funny look in Bruce's eyes that he didn't quite like. Memories flashed through Dick's mind of all the looks Bruce had ever given him, followed by the looks of his *other* persona. Ah…it's *him*. The Bat was there, he could see it now, which definitely added to his need for caution. After staring at each other for a long moment, Dick repeated his earlier question in an attempt to draw Bruce back to the forefront and escape from the scrutiny of the damn Bat. "So…what horses?"

Alfred set Dick's own plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him and slipped Bruce a meaningful look before returning to his tasks. Bruce read the look loud and clear. As he dug into his breakfast, he said, "The horses we keep down at Jack's Stable, remember? I thought it would be fun to take them out on a little ride. Been a while since we've done that."

Dick raised an eyebrow as he scrambled his eggs around on his plate, mixing the bacon in with them and creating a baconized goo that Alfred glanced at with distaste. "Don't you have to work?" he questioned. "You know, meeting, meeting, scare the crap out of some low-level employees, meeting…"

Bruce raised his own eyebrow, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm the big boss, remember? I can play hooky if I wish. Especially if it's to spend time with my one and only son." He paused, then added with a mischievous look in his blue eyes, "Why? Do you have a hot date or something? Because if you do, we could certainly put it off for another time…"

Dick blushed and looked down at the goo on his plate, wondering how Bruce always managed to turn the tables on him like this. "Riding *does* sound like fun," he murmured as he stirred the stuff around. "Can't remember the last time I was on a horse."

"Good," Bruce said, suppressing a laugh at the reaction. "We'll leave after breakfast."

"Oh, honestly, Master Dick!" Alfred finally chided with another look at Dick's plate. "If you wanted oatmeal you only had to ask."

Dick looked up at Alfred, a sudden troubled look on his face. "Hey, Alfred? Could you do me a favor? Don't call me 'Master,' all right? I'm not your master. I'm not *anyone's* master."

"But, young sir," Alfred protested, exchanging surprised looks with Bruce. "That's hardly proper…"

"I don't care if it's proper or not," Dick interrupted. "Just…please, don't call me that, all right?"

Alfred was silent for a moment, both men studying Dick, who had all his attention back on his plate. Exchanging another look with Bruce, who nodded slightly, Alfred said, "Very well, Richard. If that is your wish, then I shall respect it."

Dick nodded, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you," before digging in to the mush that had once been bacon and eggs. Bruce and Alfred exchanged looks again, but neither said anything. Alfred turned back to his duties, struggling to ignore the mess that Dick was eating, and Bruce continued with his own breakfast, eying Dick as he did. He understood the boy's aversion to being called 'master,' considering what he'd been through. But surely he knew the difference between the way Alfred used the word and the way Slade did? 'Best not to push it,' he decided. 'At least for now. We've got other issues to deal with first. One thing at a time.' Starting with whether or not that bastard had ever touched Dick sexually. Despite his denial when Bruce had first asked him, the earlier scene upstairs had seriously contradicted the claim that nothing like that had ever happened. If, in fact, it had…

A shiver made its way up and down Bruce's spine, not only at the implications, but at the low snarl from the Bat. Both he and the Bat knew, that if it was true and Dick *had* been through that experience, then neither of them would rest until they had hunted Slade down like the animal he was, and killed him, personal morals be damned.

The son of the Bat would get justice.

One way or another.

tbc