Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Dick, Alfred
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. As Bruce and Clark try and adjust to being lovers as well as Master and slave, on a warm spring night a new member of the Wayne Household is added: a little boy whom Bruce sadly identifies with. Dick Grayson further pushes Bruce along the path of Abolitionism as the child brings further Light into the Manor. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): R
Date Of Completion (First Draft): August 21, 2007
Date Of Posting: April 13, 2008
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 587
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Will there be someone
To right the wrongs?
“The Poetry Of Grief”
The shot should have sounded like a cannon, but instead it was soft, almost whispery, and he saw the red bloom blossom in his father’s chest, then his mother’s, her pearls scattering on the pavement as they fell…
& & & & & &
Bruce jolted awake, certain that his scream was dying when he realized that the scream was not his. Clark was awake now and Bruce bolted out of bed, throwing on a robe as he ran to his old room.
& & & & & &
Clark was out of bed seconds after Bruce, pulling on his robe, and he found Bruce already rocking a sobbing Dick, his hand smoothing the boy’s hair as he said softly, “I know, it hurts, I know…”
Clark hesitantly approached and Bruce nodded. Clark sat on the other side of the bed and rested his hand on a shaking shoulder.
Bruce let the boy sob, then gently pulled back and wiped his eyes with a tissue.
“Don’t be.” Clark’s voice was soft. “Our Master doesn’t ridicule us for showing emotion.” A small smile quirked Clark’s mouth and Bruce answered it over the top of Dick’s head.
Dick hiccupped, wiping his eyes, when Alfred spoke from the doorway. “Are you hungry, child?”
Dick looked at the butler. “Yes, sir.”
Alfred held out his hand. “To the kitchen, then.”
Dick got out of bed, putting a robe on over his pajamas, and took Alfred’s hand as they went downstairs.
“Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies cures all,” Bruce murmured. He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should speak with a child psychologist.”
“It’s his first night, Bruce.”
“True.” Bruce sighed, looking down at the blanket. “Clark, what if I can’t help this boy? Lord knows I’m not the most well-adjusted when it comes to my…my parents.”
Clark took his hand and squeezed it. “You understand his pain, Bruce. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Bruce looked at Clark, gratitude and love in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.
& & & & & &
Clark and Bruce entered the kitchen, Dick much calmer as he ate warm chocolate chip cookies and drank cold buttermilk. Alfred was doing the same, talking about the pheasant he had seen yesterday in the garden.
“Cookies, Master Bruce?”
Bruce held up a hand. “Don’t get up, Alfred. I’ll take care of Clark and me.”
Clark sat next to Dick, smiling at the boy, who gave him a small smile back. Clark already loved this boy, heartbroken over what he had endured, and he wanted to reassure Dick that he was safe here.
Security to a slave was like gold to a freeman: precious and of great value.
The warm, comfortable kitchen with delicious cookies and people who cared for him would make Dick feel secure.
Bruce handed Clark a plate, napkin, and glass of buttermilk, then sat down next to Alfred. He and Clark took cookies from the plate in the middle of the table.
Clark observed that Dick seemed to notice everything. His eyes had grown big as Bruce had served Clark. It was good that their Master showed he wasn’t rigid with roles in such an informal setting, but if Dick got the wrong idea, he and Alfred could set him straight.
But for now, it was enough to envelop Dick in love and caring.