Forgotten Bonds

Nine - Meridian

October 11th, 2008. Saturday, 7:32 pm. 

That single act of kindness from Slade lasted Dick for about two weeks. During those two weeks, he did pretty good. He held his tongue more and found that Slade was pleased with that. But there were times that Slade seemed displeased with his progress and during those times Dick was on the receiving end of the man's temper. Dick tried to be calm through it all, but he was quickly getting fed up. Getting used to the situation was terribly hard. There were days that seemed just that – a day. While other times, Dick felt he was internally going insane from being a prisoner of Slade. 

He missed going outside – the sunshine, the fresh air, or just a simple breeze to flutter through his hair. He missed his friends. Some days he felt acceptance over his situation, but other days his brain protested viciously at its lot in life. He was terribly homesick, not to mention lonely. Wintergreen was warm at times, but after that 'senior moment' event, Dick was extremely wary of provoking the old man. The stress was beginning to build up inside Dick, threatening to burst at any moment and he was sure he'd probably unload it all onto the old man – just for the mere fact that he was the only possible candidate. No way he was going to bare his soul to Slade. 

What a laugh that was. 

Dick was already tired. The schedule that Slade held him to daily was very wearing on him. The physical part of it was getting better since he was getting stronger, but the studying was making him go crazy. Not that he couldn't understand it all or anything – not at all. He was highly intelligent and had already graduated high school exceptionally early just a few months ago. While he was thankful for the consistency at times, he was also irritated by it. He didn't want to learn certain things – like hacking into a computer or like learning how to shut down security systems without being detected. 

He just didn't want to learn those kinds of things because he knew full well that Slade would one day make him do what he had learned. He was absolutely terrified by that possibility. He didn't want to be a criminal – at all. He didn't want to fight on the opposite side of his friends. The mere thought of having to fight the Teen Titans in a clash like that made him sick to his stomach. 

He was miserable, completely miserable. But he wanted to be happy, or in the very least be content with his lot in life. A part of his soul accepted that he was stuck and that he should make the best of it. He shouldn't always be unhappy. But, except from the tiny glimpses of softness from Slade, there just wasn't anything that could make Dick content with his situation. 

There were times that he found himself wanting to please Slade. Being one of the only two people he interacted with daily, Dick couldn't help but want—need to please the man. After all, if the man was happy with him, Dick was in less danger of finding himself nursing another bruise. It felt extremely strange wanting things from Slade. 

But... There were times Dick felt guilty – guilty that he wanted to be happy here; guilty that he wanted Slade's approval. He was living with a criminal, a mercenary, an assassin that made his income contracting under other criminals to do things that Dick didn't even want to think about. But being unhappy and miserable was not pleasant or fun. Dick was tired of being sad about things in life. He just wanted to be normal and happy – just a normal teenager. 

But as he was studying how to make an explosive right at that moment, it just wasn't quite possible. 

"Stop," said Slade, putting a hand up irritably. "You do that and you'll be peeling yourself from off the walls when you try to set it off." 

Dick growled and shoved the equipment forward, folding his arms tightly. He obstinately turned his head away. The large gears constantly clinked loudly overhead; only to serve as an aggravator to his annoyance. He was sick of this. He didn't want to learn how to make this junk. He could just afford to keep plenty of these things in his utility belt. There was no need to learn how to create makeshift explosives. It wasn't like he was MacGyver!