Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Ollie Queen, Hal/Steve, Lex Luthor
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): NC-17
Summary: Bruce discovers an ally.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): May 10, 2007
Date Of Posting: September 27, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own 'em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1272 + 1719 (Total: 2991)
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The Bat’s wings
Slipped like silk,
The Freedom Chronicles
Ollie worked steadily on the treadmill while Steve and Hal worked out on the mats. Lex was doing sit-ups, and Clark was using the rowing machine. Bruce was out for a morning run and breakfast would be served after he came back.
Ollie got off the treadmill and walked over to a bench laden with towels, passing Clark on the way.
Shyly, Clark said, “Thank you for your help with Melody.”
“You’re welcome.” Ollie picked up a towel. “Melody is an absolute doll.”
“I’m glad she’s with you now.” His expression clouded. “I wish all the slaves on that estate could have a better life.”
Ollie crouched down beside Clark. “I know,” he said sympathetically.
“She’s your Squire now?”
“Yes.” Ollie brightened. “She’s a bright little thing. Picks up things quickly. I have a tutor for her to learn to read and write.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“You don’t require one.”
“No.” Clark smiled. “I love to read, and Master Bruce says my writing is exceptional.”
“It is.” Ollie wished he could see Clark’s eyes, but little wonder that Bruce kept him Veiled. “I’ve read your meeting reports. You seem to have a reporter’s skill.”
“You mean I could write for The Gotham Gazette?” Clark said with a laugh.
“Oh, definitely.” Ollie wiped his face. “Are you coming to the meeting today?”
“Yes, my Master has requested it.”
Ollie knew that Bruce had formed it in the manner of a question as a small courtesy to Clark, because unless he asked him directly to make a choice, any ‘request’ was of course an order. Ollie felt a rush of affection for his friend. Bruce’s kindness made him exemplary.
Clark watched the wrestling match. His lips curved into an amused smile.
Clark leaned over and whispered, “They’re sleeping together.”
Sharing Clark’s amusement, Ollie asked, “Oh?”
Clark nodded. “I don’t know if it’s love, but their bodies know each other.”
Hmm, seems a pleasure slave has good bedroom instincts outside of the bedroom.
He winked at Clark, who grinned.
Ollie watched Hal and Steve move, and he concluded that Clark could be right. He stood up and Clark finished his set. Bruce would be back soon and they needed to shower.
Clark stood up, suddenly staggering. Ollie shot out an arm and steadied him.
“I…sorry. Just a little…dizzy.”
Ollie studied his face, again wishing he could see Clark’s eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I…it’s my illness.”
“Ah.” Ollie remembered the slave broker, Silas Bracken, letting Clark’s prospective buyers know about his disease. “Can you still come into town?”
“I should.” Clark took a deep breath. “I don’t have a headache. I’m just a little woozy.” He grabbed Ollie’s arm as he tilted again. “I had my shot this morning and sometimes I have a reaction.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Clark’s smile was wan. “Thank you, Mr. Queen.”
“Do you need help to get upstairs?”
“Would you mind terribly?”
Ollie helped Clark out of the gym and up the stairs, their pace slow and careful. When they reached the bedroom, Ollie asked, “Are you sure you can come with us?”
“Yes.” Clark smiled in thanks. “My Master expects me to accompany him.”
“Not if you’re sick.”
“If I can’t make it, I’ll tell him.”
Ollie nodded. “Very well.” He smiled. “Bruce is a very lucky man.” He laughed at Clark’s blush. Oh, Bruce, you do have a Prize. “I trust your judgment.”
Ollie watched as Clark moved under his own power, then went to his own room. His private bathroom gave him an edge over the others, who had to share a bathroom down the hall.
As he stood in the shower, he thought of last night. Meeting Batman for the first time had been a thrill.
Grumpy old Bat.
Ollie was amused by the Bat’s territorialism. So be it. That wouldn’t stop him from showing up again.
After his shower he combed his wet hair, pleased at his reflection. His hair was short now, his face clean-shaven. As the Green Arrow he wore a wig of thick, longer hair and a false beard. Still blond, but hopefully different enough to throw people off.
His Pretty Bird wore a blond wig over her brunette hair and had suggested the idea. He always listened to his Pretty Bird.
Smiling, he selected his clothing for the day and his thoughts turned back to Clark. He hoped that the slave was all right. Wertham’s Disease was not an easy illness to live with, but at least Clark seemed healthy most of the time.
He finished dressing and went down for breakfast.
& & & & & &
Clark showered, relieved that his dizziness seemed to have passed. He didn’t have a blinding headache or nausea, so he should be able to go into the city with his Master.
He was looking forward to it. He liked the four men who were Wayne Manor’s houseguests, and they were all courteous to him.
He had done a little research on the astronauts, learning about their heroism during the Verillion War. They were decorated heroes, leading their men into battle and essentially creating a turning point for the Empire and eventual victory.
Clark stepped out of the shower, thinking about the general lack of arrogance on the part of the two men when he heard, “Now that’s a way to start the day.”
Bruce was smiling and Clark blushed but smiled, too. He preened a little and Bruce laughed.
Clark left the bathroom to Bruce, dressing in the bedroom and heading downstairs, a little smile on his face.
& & & & & &
Clark enjoyed the day, meticulously taking notes. The meeting itself stuck to the nuts-and-bolts of armament production, Clark glad for the sheets of information Bruce would give him. That way he did not have to frantically scribble down numbers, simply concentrating on the comments made about those numbers.
Clark was grateful that his body seemed to be cooperating today. He had no headache, only a touch of nausea, and the dizziness seemed to have left him.
He was happy to be part of the group, grateful for their kindness to him. He had seen slaves in the street treated shabbily and was relieved to be part of a group that seemed to frown upon such behavior.
The meeting was long, Elias Stark insistent upon detailed reports. He claimed there were no more attacks on the Outer Rim, but Clark wondered if that should be believed. Despite the high security clearances of everyone in the room, the military did not always trust civilians.
His own clearance was guaranteed because if he talked, his tongue would be cut out and he would be executed in a most painful manner. Therefore, he thought wryly, his silence was pretty much assured.
When the meeting was over, Bruce beckoned him over. Plans were being discussed for the evening.
“Please feel free to remain in town. I’m afraid I can’t stay, but I promise that tomorrow night I will give you a proper tour of the street theater that is Gotham.”
“That’s a promise?” asked Hal.
“It is,” Bruce said with a grin.
“Deal. Steve and I have to work on our report tonight, anyway.”
“And I have a conference call,” Lex said.
“Me, too,” added Ollie.
“Then it’s agreed.” Bruce’s hand brushed Clark’s. “And there is the Harvest Ball on All Hallow’s Eve.”
“Looking forward to it.”
& & & & & &