starsandsea (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starsandsea) wrote2008-04-27 08:04 pm
starsandsea) wrote2008-04-27 08:04 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Master and Slave (10/13)
Title: Master and Slave (10/13)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Bruce/Kal
Word Count: 554
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Author's Note: Previous parts can be found here. Lots of thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bradygirl_12 and arch_schatten for the hand holding and beta! :D
Bruce opened his eyes. There was light. He blinked. The air around him smelt different. Fresh. Clean. He blinked again. The air smelt of oranges. He was still lying on his side, but there was something soft underneath him and covering him. He frowned. He knew this place. The memories came back slowly. His master's room. His master's bed.
He looked around. His master was sleeping in a chair next to the bed; the book Bruce had been reading open on his lap. Bruce blinked. This was a new dream. He moved slightly, gingerly, waiting for the pain to assault him. It did, but it seemed to be at a distance. Almost... numb. It didn't wake him up.
His movements did wake his master, though. Bruce looked at him in confusion.
"Bruce! Bruce..." His master was suddenly kneeling by his bedside. The Prince clasped his hands, then kissed them softly. Bruce stared at the bandage adorning his left lower arm.
"My Bruce..."
He wasn't wearing any slave manacles. Not even his master's. Bruce frowned again. "Master?" His voice came out cracked and barely audible.
He was so tired. He heard his master's voice, but it slipped away. Bruce fell asleep.
*****
Bruce was dreaming again. He was dreaming of his first memory and the events that surely lead to it. He had woken up on a road, surrounded by dead bodies. All of them had been killed by a sword, stabbed mercilessly and repeatedly.
He had been holding a blood coated sword in his hand.
He was the only one alive, but he didn't know who he was, where he was, only that... he must have killed the people lying around him. He must have.
There was no one else alive.
He wept for them, and his lost memories. Then, the slavers had found him. And he had gained a whole new lot of memories, memories of pain and self-hatred mingling with shame and guilt. He couldn't let himself fight back when the slavers beat him, raped him. He couldn't. He might wake up again and find that he'd murdered them all. He couldn't live with anymore guilt upon him.
So, he let them do what they wanted with him, use him whenever they wanted. He couldn't fight back, he couldn't, he would kill them all...
The dream abruptly shifted. He was back in the cell, chained the wall, Lex Luthor looming over him, smirking. He shouldn't have fought back against him, even if only verbally, he shouldn't, bad things always happened when he did...
He heard his master's voice, whispering to him softly, telling him that everything was all right. His master, the first person to show him kindness, him, kindness, after all he had done, who seemed to impossibly care for him...
"Shh... it's all right, my Bruce, everything's all right now..."
Bruce shook his head in denial. "I killed them. I killed them!" His master's arms about him, restraining but gentle at the same time. "I killed them," he repeated. "I didn't mean... I'm so sorry, so sorry..."
Darkness loomed before him. He fell into its welcoming embrace.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Bruce/Kal
Word Count: 554
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Author's Note: Previous parts can be found here. Lots of thanks to
bradygirl_12 and arch_schatten for the hand holding and beta! :DBruce opened his eyes. There was light. He blinked. The air around him smelt different. Fresh. Clean. He blinked again. The air smelt of oranges. He was still lying on his side, but there was something soft underneath him and covering him. He frowned. He knew this place. The memories came back slowly. His master's room. His master's bed.
He looked around. His master was sleeping in a chair next to the bed; the book Bruce had been reading open on his lap. Bruce blinked. This was a new dream. He moved slightly, gingerly, waiting for the pain to assault him. It did, but it seemed to be at a distance. Almost... numb. It didn't wake him up.
His movements did wake his master, though. Bruce looked at him in confusion.
"Bruce! Bruce..." His master was suddenly kneeling by his bedside. The Prince clasped his hands, then kissed them softly. Bruce stared at the bandage adorning his left lower arm.
"My Bruce..."
He wasn't wearing any slave manacles. Not even his master's. Bruce frowned again. "Master?" His voice came out cracked and barely audible.
He was so tired. He heard his master's voice, but it slipped away. Bruce fell asleep.
*****
Bruce was dreaming again. He was dreaming of his first memory and the events that surely lead to it. He had woken up on a road, surrounded by dead bodies. All of them had been killed by a sword, stabbed mercilessly and repeatedly.
He had been holding a blood coated sword in his hand.
He was the only one alive, but he didn't know who he was, where he was, only that... he must have killed the people lying around him. He must have.
There was no one else alive.
He wept for them, and his lost memories. Then, the slavers had found him. And he had gained a whole new lot of memories, memories of pain and self-hatred mingling with shame and guilt. He couldn't let himself fight back when the slavers beat him, raped him. He couldn't. He might wake up again and find that he'd murdered them all. He couldn't live with anymore guilt upon him.
So, he let them do what they wanted with him, use him whenever they wanted. He couldn't fight back, he couldn't, he would kill them all...
The dream abruptly shifted. He was back in the cell, chained the wall, Lex Luthor looming over him, smirking. He shouldn't have fought back against him, even if only verbally, he shouldn't, bad things always happened when he did...
He heard his master's voice, whispering to him softly, telling him that everything was all right. His master, the first person to show him kindness, him, kindness, after all he had done, who seemed to impossibly care for him...
"Shh... it's all right, my Bruce, everything's all right now..."
Bruce shook his head in denial. "I killed them. I killed them!" His master's arms about him, restraining but gentle at the same time. "I killed them," he repeated. "I didn't mean... I'm so sorry, so sorry..."
Darkness loomed before him. He fell into its welcoming embrace.