Dick gritted his teeth, taking a shaky step toward the door.

So close.

He had already made it halfway from the bed. All it would take was two more steps.

Just two more.

Taking another step forward, Dick did his best to steady his breathing.

In...

Out.

In...

Out.

On his next step, Dick's legs gave out from under him and he hit the ground with a thump, pain radiating up from his knees.

"So not asterous." Dick grumbled under his breath, letting out an irritated sigh as the door to his room swung open and Alfred stepped into the room.

The butler looked around the room before his eyes focused on Dick's sprawled out form. "Master Dick, you are aware of the fact that we have furniture you could be sitting on, correct?" He asked, amusement all too evident.

This was the second time this week that Alfred had come to his rescue and it was only Monday afternoon.

With a long groan, Dick shook his head, spreading out on the floor in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"I dunno, Alfred. The floor is kind of comfortable. You sure you don't want to join me?"

At least humor was better than becoming frustrated.

Alfred simply shook his head, reaching down to help Dick up. "You know, if you just wait a bit longer and do your arm exercises like the doctor told you then you'll be able to go on crutches. Trying to walk like this will only cause more injuries."

"I know, I know... you told me that last time. But it's frustrating."

"It'll be more frustrating if you reinjure yourself."

Dick stood with Alfred's help and the butler guided him back to his waiting wheelchair, brow furrowing in concern. "At the very least use your chair to get to the living room where there are more things to lean on."

"Admit it, Alfie... you just don't want to keep coming in here to save me." Dick forced a tired smile, patting the side of the wheelchair. "But I guess you have a point. I can practice walking where you can supervise."

~•~

Dick sat curled up on the couch, hand clenching and unclenching around a stress ball while he read. He had given up on trying to walk after collapsing for what felt like the hundredth time and Alfred had grown tired of helping him up, promising chocolate cake after dinner if Dick gave it a rest.

While he was not one to normally fall for bribes, Dick had agreed readily enough. Chocolate cake was worth giving his already shaking legs a rest.

It was strange – the domestic setting of the Wayne Manor. Alfred acted as more of a father than a butler to Bruce, and Bruce himself was hardly home at all.

During the first few days of his recovery, his new 'father' had hung around, making sure that he was doing alright. However, that did not last long and when Dick had asked where he went Alfred had simply informed him that Bruce Wayne was the owner and CEO of a very large corporation and thus had a lot of work to do.

Dick did not know enough of the man to form a clear judgment on him, aside from the fact that he clearly was not good with kids. Maybe Dick was scaring him away? He did not know for sure.

But he had discovered that he quite liked Alfred, the older man helping him with his physical therapy as well as making him delicious snacks when he felt down about his progress.

Slade never made him chocolate cake.

However, as much as Alfred was around, Dick could not help but feel lonely. At least with Slade he had someone to pass banter back and forth with. Alfred was not the kind of man to accept Dick's generally playful manner, no matter how nice he had been.

He sighed, setting the book and stress ball down and maneuvering himself into his wheelchair.

"I'm going to my room, Alfred."

The butler simply hummed in acknowledgement, focused on his task of preparing dinner.

Sighing again, Dick wheeled himself down the hallway and into the room that had been designated as his. It was huge. Far too massive for a single child, much less one who was currently wheelchair bound and unable to move about freely.

Odd.

The window was open.

Dick definitely had not opened the window, and he knew for a fact that Alfred had not been in his room since the butler had brought him out into the living room earlier that day.

He doubled checked that his door was closed before wheeling himself forward a bit faster.

Approaching the window, Dick looked out over the massive lawn behind the manor.

Nothing seemed out of place.

He reached up, pulling the window closed before turning back around, eyes scanning the room, searching for anything that seemed even remotely out of place.

There.

The closet door was cracked open, mere centimeters different from what it had been, but Dick knew better than to ignore the difference.

Slade had taught him better.

Approaching as cautiously as was possible in a wheelchair, Dick pulled the door open, bracing himself for an attack.

When no attack came, he began looking over the items in the closet carefully. It was well stocked with clothes, far too many for Dick to ever really use, especially since he really wore athletic clothing.

There were suits. Why on earth would a fourteen-year-old need a suit?

Pushing the suits aside, Dick moved toward the back of the closet, his chair fitting easily in the massive open space. Seriously, this closet was almost as big as his family's circus trailer had been.

So unnecessary.

It only took a few more minutes of searching before Dick spotted something else out of place.

A shoe was ever so slightly crooked, not noticeable to most, but to Dick it stood out like a sore thumb amongst the rows of perfectly straight pairs.

He slipped out of his chair, carefully situating himself against the wall before reaching for the shoe and picking it up.

A careful examination revealed that the sole was loose. Dick removed it and set it aside, a grin slipping over his lips as he pulled out a bottle of pills and a rolled-up note.

Setting the pills aside, Dick focused in on the note, holding it close to his eyes to better read the tiny writing.

The infiltration is going smoothly. Good job. The pills are to increase your anxiety levels and induce nightmares. Take one before bed at random intervals. This will further the traumatized act and make serious questioning less of a possibility. Remember your training to block mind readers. Once you have further recovered, wait for my signal to begin stage three.

-Slade

Dick laughed softly to himself, tearing the note up into small pieces and quickly swallowing them, thus destroying any evidence of his master's communication.

Slade really had thought of everything.

It would be easy to hide the pills among the various others that the doctors had prescribed. They looked exactly like his painkillers, something that Slade had probably also planned.

Not like Dick was actually taking those anyway.

Replacing the sole to the shoe, Dick carefully straightened the pair to match the others before climbing back into his chair and wheeling himself out of the closet.

He had barely enough time to dispose of the painkillers and swap in Slade's pills before Alfred called him for dinner.

Bruce was not there for the meal.

Busy with work.

Dick went to bed early.

Late that night screams echoed through the vast expanse of the manor.