Forgotten Bonds

Thirty-One - Tender Promptings

February 20th, 2009. Friday, 7:21 am. 

Slade was still alive. 

It was still taking Dick time to wrap his brain around it. He would always double check to see if it was true; always checking that chest to see if it lifted in the man's continual breathing; always checking to see if the man's skin was alive with his flesh colors – always double checking; always. 

And Dick was always gifted with relief inside his heart. 

The full implications of his feelings were a bit too much for Dick to completely process at that time. They were too farfetched, too frightening, too everything to acknowledge at that moment. Such feelings changed everything he ever knew about himself. All he allowed himself to think about, to feel, was the overpowering relief that always flowed through him at the single all too beautiful thought. 

Slade would never die on him. 

The fact that he was relieved by that was also crazy, but Dick allowed it. He needed that relief – needed it with his entire soul. He needed Slade to be alive. He... needed the man. How, why, when didn't matter anymore; he just knew that he needed Slade and he needed him alive. 

Anything more and Dick pushed such thoughts down, still too frightened by them and what they fully meant – no matter how many times they lilted, trilled, or fluttered at him. 

It was early morning a few days later and Dick was currently at the table eating his breakfast with Wintergreen. Slade hadn't surfaced that morning yet. But then, at that moment, Dick looked up from his orange juice to see Slade walking into the kitchen completely suited up – except for the mask, which he was carrying in his hand. 

Dick automatically watched the familiar rising of the man's chest for a moment – just out of habit; recharging his relief. 

"No breakfast for me, Will. Just some coffee," said Slade, sitting down at the table. Wintergreen hurried to stand up and began to prepare Slade a cup. 

"Where are you going?" asked Dick, setting his glass down onto the table. 

"Mission," said Slade flatly. 

Dick blinked and couldn't hold back the excitement that began to rise inside his chest. Another mission? He'd be able to get out again. The excitement of being able to leave the haunt yet again was too much. But at the same time, his fears rose. He honestly didn't want to experience a mission like he had just witnessed. If all of Slade's missions were going to be like that, Dick knew that his heart would begin to fail him – and no doubt Dick would be sporting a full head of white hair of his own by the time he turned sixteen if he had to watch the man die over and over again. 

But he couldn't understand why Slade hadn't told him earlier or he would've been ready by now. 

"Cool! When do we leave?" 

"We do not leave. I leave," said Slade as he adjusted the strap around his shoulder and chest that held the holster to his gun and the sheath to his broadsword. 

What...? 

Dick's heart fell inside his chest. Why was only Slade going? Why couldn't he come? Slade needed him at his side, after all, right? He hadn't gotten in the man's way during the last mission, right? Dick was still needed, right? 

Right? 

"Wait, what? Why can't I come?" asked Dick, his chest beginning to rise higher in his breathing.