Title: Shattered Soul II: Silent Screams (1/1)
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, Dick, Alfred
Continuity: Smallville/Batman Begins
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Slavefic
Warnings: Implied whippings and beatings (Clark’s previous Master)
Summary: Bruce, Dick, and Alfred remember Clark’s first days at the Manor.
Date Of Completion: July 20, 2011
Date Of Posting: July 22, 2011
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC and Warner Brothers do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1599
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for patrese1 for her helpthesouth donation. She requested: Pairing: Master Bruce/Slave Clark. A continuation of Shattered Soul (I). Hope it was worth the wait, hon! :) The entire series can be found here.
As I was writing this, Tom Welling’s Clark and Christian Bale’s Bruce were in my mind’s eye, so I’m labelling this in their continuities.
The magnificent story cover is by the wonderfully-talented ctbn60. Thanks so much, luv! :)
As if you were
Reaching out your hand
To a little bird,
His wings ready
To take flight,
His heart beating
In his chest,
As bright eyes
Bruce lay quietly with Clark in his arms, his slave sleeping peacefully. That in itself was heartening, not to mention Clark coming to him at long last.
He kissed Clark's temple as he cradled his head. He was very pleased that Clark finally trusted him enough to come to his bed.
The lovemaking had been tentative and gentle, but Bruce was all right with that. Considering that he had begun to despair of ever having physical relations with his beautiful slave, he was grateful for this much.
Lord Lionel had damaged Clark very badly, both physically and emotionally. Even now Clark could still not speak.
But he did not want to think of Lionel and the rage that he inspired. Instead, Bruce concentrated on the warm body in his arms, and smiled as he fell asleep.
Bruce awoke, knowing that something was wrong. Clark was sitting upright in bed, a look of utter terror on his beautiful face, his mouth open in a silent scream. Before Bruce could grab him he scrambled off the bed and ran to the corner of the bedroom, covering his head as he rocked back-and-forth, tiny whimpering noises reminding Bruce of a wounded animal.
He carefully got off the bed, wrapping his dressing gown around his body. Clark was naked, his scarred limbs trembling.
Bruce quietly approached the trembling man. "Clark", he said softly. He slowly knelt in front of his slave, Clark trying to curl up tighter. Bruce gently grasped his arm, nearly thrown on his butt as Clark brought his arms up to cover his ears as if to block out mocking laughter and heaven-knew-what-else, Bruce thought. His new slave was extremely strong. Tears streamed down Clark's face, and Bruce was grateful that at least Clark's face was not permanently scarred.
With a heavy heart, he thought back to Clark's first day at the Manor...
"This will be your room," Bruce said. Dick had helped Clark clean the grime of the slave dealer's pens off, and now was dressed in a white tunic, showing impressive muscles.
He wanted to bring Clark to his room, but his instincts were telling him that despite his desire to show Clark that he was safe here, that the slave needed a place of his own, without expecting to service his new Master in bed.
"This is where you can rest for the next few days. Try and get some sleep." Bruce touched the doorknob. "You can lock the door from the inside." He smiled. "Alfred will be up in the morning with breakfast."
Clark's arms were wrapped around himself and his eyes downcast. Bruce decided that he would hold off putting the Wayne collar and manacles on him for now.
He left the room with a heavy heart.
"Clark," Bruce said, his heart breaking.
Clark's eyes focused on him, filled with such desperation and need that Bruce wanted to cry.
"It's all right; it's all right." Bruce stroked Clark's face. "No one is going to hurt you. I promise that."
Bruce's words and intensity must have gotten through to Clark, whose eyes shimmered with tears but he clutched his Master's arms and whimpered as he pushed his face against Bruce's chest. Bruce held on tight as Clark silently sobbed, his body shaking. Bruce rubbed his back, clamping down on the anger he felt at the massive scars.
After Clark had stopped crying, Bruce gently helped him up to the bed. "I'll get Alfred to bring up a tray."
Clark grabbed a fistful of Bruce's dressing gown.
"It's all right, Clark." Clark shook his head. "What is it?" Clark pointed to himself, then at Bruce. Confused, Bruce asked, "What about me? Clark pantomined putting clothes on. "Oh! You want to come down to breakfast?" At Clark's nod, Bruce smiled. "Very good. Get dressed and we will go down together."
Dick was delighted to see Clark come down with Bruce. Ever since his arrival at Wayne Manor, Clark had taken his meals in his room, only venturing down once a day in Bruce's company, though lately he had been making short forays on his own.
Bruce took his seat at the head of the table, Dick to his right. Clark hesitated, then began to drop to his knees at Bruce's feet. Bruce gently grasped his hand and said, "You will sit in the chair."
Clark nodded, taking the chair to his Master's left. Alfred came in, bearing a tray, momentary surprise on his face but covering it quickly.
"I shall bring another plate forthwith, sir."
"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap.
Alfred set plates of eggs and sausages in front of Bruce and Dick, returning to the kitchen. He came out with a new plate and set it in front of Clark.
Dick remembered the first morning that Alfred had brought Clark his breakfast.
The butler had entered the dining room and looked perturbed. "The young man is terrified. He is curled up in a corner, half-expecting blows, I fear."
Bruce looked at Dick. "Go and soothe him."
Dick nodded and quickly went upstairs to the guest room. Alfred had been accurate in his description of Clark's reaction. He was curled up in the corner, flinching as he heard the door open.
"Hey, Clark, it is just me." Clark looked up, the fear in his eyes breaking Dick's heart. "It is all right." Dick held his hand out.
Clark looked at him for a long moment, then took Dick's hand.
Dick was happy to see Clark here at the breakfast table, a long step from that first morning. His fellow slave eagerly dug into his eggs and sausages.
"I think I need to see what's going on in the gardens," Bruce said casually when the meal was finished.
Dick glanced quickly at Clark, who was looking down at his plate. "That's a great idea, Master. Alfred said he had all sorts of ideas."
"Yes, I need to see what he is planning. Alfred!"
The butler came in from the kitchen. "Yes, sir?"
"We need to have a tour of the gardens, and you are just the man to conduct that tour."
"Very good, sir." Alfred's expression was calm, but Dick could see the pride in his eyes.
"Then, let us be off." Bruce stood and Dick followed, eager to be outside. Clark stood uncertainly. "Do you wish to return to your room or accompany us?" Bruce held out his hand.
Clark hesitated, looking at three expectant faces, and took Bruce's hand. Smiling, Bruce led him out to the gardens as Alfred and Dick followed.
Alfred conducted the tour, letting his audience know what his plans were, with Bruce's approval.
While Alfred detailed the layouts of the flowers, he kept his eye on Clark. Bruce did the same as Dick took Clark's hand and pointed out the zinnias and chrysanthemums.
Clark's eyes lit up as he saw the towering sunflowers. Alfred smoothly suggested, "We need some weeding done here. Clark, Dick, would you be so kind?"
Clark immediately dropped to his knees, eagerly pulling out weeds, digging his fingers into the dirt.
Alfred remembered that memorable day after Clark's arrival when he came out of his room for the first time...
Alfred brought tea and cookies to the library, Dick helping Master Bruce with paperwork. He entered the library and nearly dropped the tray in surprise as he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see a highly nervous Clark standing there.
Alfred made sure not to startle the young man, remembering him curled up in a corner on that first morning he had brought him breakfast in his room.
Clark looked ready to bolt, nervously pushing up his tunic over his shoulder, eyes downcast.
"Clark, please come in." Bruce's voice was gentle and welcoming.
Clark walked in timidly, and Bruce beckoned him over. He indicated the couch and Clark took a seat, twisting his fingers in his lap.
Dick was sitting in a chair by Bruce's side and tapped his book, inclining his head toward Clark. Bruce smiled at the boy and asked Clark, "Can you read?" At Clark's nod, he said, "Then choose any book you like."
Shock crossed the beautiful features of this battered slave, and he rose slowly, coming over to Bruce and taking his hand, kissing the palm. Bruce swallowed, caressing Clark's hair.
Clark moved to the bookcases, running his fingers over the spines of the books, finally choosing one and returning to the couch with it.
Alfred set the tray of cookies and pot of tea on the desk, pouring the tea into cups, and left the library returning with a cup and plate for Clark, who was pathetically grateful.
The garden expedition had gone well, Bruce thought with satisfaction as he prepared for bed.
As he put on his nightgown, he hoped that Clark would come to him again tonight but perhaps the day had drained him and he wanted to sleep. Sighing, he blew out the candle and climbed into bed.
Ten minutes later he heard the door creak open and smiled. Clark joined him in bed and curled up against him, Bruce pulling the covers over them both.
If there were more silent screams to come tonight, Bruce would be ready.
He fell asleep to the soft, even breathing of his companion.