Who: Thomas and Luke What: Asking for help, Thomas style. Where: Aubade. When: Pre-Valentine's Day stuff. Warnings: None.
Despite all his constant protests that he wasn’t tired, all Luke had done since he’d reluctantly left the hospital was sleep. Naps stolen on decidedly uncomfortable chairs simply couldn’t measure up to a proper bed and even he had to admit he’d pushed himself father than usual in the past couple of weeks. He didn’t have the best concept of time and woke up at random intervals completely disoriented, only to give up on attempting to form thoughts and go right back to sleep since it required less effort. There were dreams but they all bled out into each other and he could never remember them in the brief moments when he was awake, which was a small relief amidst everything else.
By the time he managed to roll himself out of bed it felt like he’d been asleep for an eternity, and he checked his cell in a sudden burst of panic in case something had happened to Quinn and he’d missed it. Nothing had. Luke kept his cell in the pocket of the hoodie he’d tugged on just in case, though, and yawned the entire way down the stairs. Coffee. He definitely needed coffee.
Thomas’ schedule was different too. He knew when it was light and when it was dark, but he spent much of the daylight hours doing bizarrely normal things having to do with the office, suits, and taxes. While he was capable of getting to one of his safehouses to train, it was a risky process, and for the most part the very early hours of the morning saw him working to get his strength back up without waking the entire house--simple sets of exercises from varying martial arts, yoga asanas, karate katas, tai chi, wing chun forms, and others. All these required was spare space, concentration, and energy. He didn’t have as much energy as he used to, but the purpose was to build back, and that’s what he was doing.
Luke’s presence in the house brought an odd sense of reassurance to Thomas. Despite his readiness on his feet and his ability to react after he had contact, Luke’s presence meant there was another able-bodied person nearby able to protect Max if something happened. There were also the sounds; with his world now an impressionist’s wash of unidentifiable color, shapes and movement, Thomas relied on sounds for precision, and even when Luke was just up there rolling over in bed or walking sleepily down the hall, it made the apartment feel safe and normal.
An even female voice was reading Thomas’ emails to him from his phone, set on speaker and lying on the counter while he waited for toast to go with the protein smoothie he didn’t need to see to make. He looked up at the sound of Luke’s steps, not alarmed but aware, and nodded in his blur’s direction. “Awake?”
Luke heard the voice first and paused near the bottom of the stairs, but it only took a couple of seconds for him to recognize it for what it was. He knew Thomas’ vision hadn’t returned, since that was definitely something that he or Max would have mentioned, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t at some point. Sometimes doctors were wrong. Still, for now it was reassuring to know that Thomas was still doing Thomas-like things instead of wallowing or something like that. “Mostly.” He stifled another yawn and narrowly managed to avoid spilling coffee everywhere. “I’ll be fully awake in a couple of minutes. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Thomas, now appropriately trained by various women in his life, elaborated, pointing at the blender (or in that general direction, anyway): “Eating.” He reached for the phone, unerring in the direction, and picked it up to interrupt the slightly disjointed voice in mid-sentence. He smiled slightly at the rattle of the coffee pot. “Be careful with that, Mary just finished cleaning.” Thomas now not only knew the housekeeper in abstract, but he also knew what her cleaning habits were and what her opinion was of almost everything, including what he ate and how often Luke stayed out. Very few people were forthright to Thomas about their opinion of him and he appreciated it. She also wore very strong fake strawberry perfume that made her easy to identify in his space. “You did good with Mr. Knight,” he said, referring to the Night Terror by the name on his booking papers and APB.
It was good to see the blender being put to use again, since he rarely had need for it and didn’t think Max did either. He hid a smile, even though it wouldn’t have mattered, and dumped some sugar in his coffee with more care than he’d shown the coffee pot. “Crisis averted, don’t worry. I didn’t spill anything.” Luke didn’t know the housekeeper as well as Thomas apparently did, but he was catching on quickly. He looked up from his mug with a puzzled frown realizing who ‘Mr. Knight’ must have been. “Oh, you mean Night Terror.” He shrugged, doubtful since he hadn’t really done anything in terms of actually catching him. “Corbinian was the one who caught him.” Without killing him, which was both a welcome surprise and a relief. “Hopefully they can do something to keep him from getting into people’s dreams from now on.”
Thomas had some doubts about that, personally, but for once he valued Luke’s peace of mind more than he did his own opinion on the topic. He knew that a steady diet of opiates would work, but would probably kill the man eventually, but there were also advanced sleep studies going on that might provide alternatives. He trusted Oracle to dig deep into that particular problem, as her daughter was involved, and though he had done some preliminary checking for his own peace of mind (And for Max’s sake) he was separate from that investigation, and he knew it. Thomas missed the frown, but he nodded slowly in response, and sat down with his toast and glass. He didn’t have any difficulty navigating around the kitchen island, nor did he do any searching to find the back of the chair.
Luke didn’t ask for specifics, since he wasn’t sure how much Thomas knew about what the police had planned for Night Terror or about the man in general. He’d already given a lot of thought to possible ways they could keep him from dreaming, as well as what might happen if they couldn’t, but there was no point in going around in circles talking about it. So he let the subject drop and carefully brought his coffee to the table, settling down on the edge of the chair and resting his chin in his hands. Vaguely he recalled having told Wren that he’d talk to Thomas about their failed conversation, but he really didn’t want to have that conversation at the moment. Or ever, actually, but definitely not now. “You seem to be getting around okay,” he ventured after a pause. “Considering your... vision.”
Thomas sat forward a little in the chair. His expression was thoughtful but clouded, and he tore a piece from the toast to eat it before replying. “I know where everything here is,” he said, after chewing. “You’re tired, you drag your feet, I can put you in my space--depth and reach. But not height, and if you were to come at me fast and alert, I wouldn’t know where you were until you hit me at least once.” He tore another piece of toast in half.
Luke tilted his head to the side and regarded Thomas with a frown, trying to imagine what it would be like to have his limited vision and deal with people coming at him at the same time. At first he’d assumed that Thomas’ vision would come back fairly quickly and thus wouldn’t be a problem, but now it was taking longer than he’d thought… if it even happened at all. Realistically there was a chance he would be stuck with the little sight he currently had, and Luke knew better than to think that he would just quit being the Bat because of it. “At least once,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Even once is too much.” It would be easy to use his vision problems against him, especially to start off strong and gain the upper hand. “So you’d need to lean how to avoid waiting for that first hit just to be able to retaliate. I mean, you’d always be at a disadvantage, but then again most people rely entirely on their sight and that can be just as much of a disadvantage too.” Luke swallowed another gulp of coffee, not catching on entirely just yet.
“That’s why I fight in the dark,” Thomas said, “Among other reasons. I still relied on my sight to a certain extent, however, and I would be fine in a limited area with unarmed assailants, but there isn’t a way to know whether or not someone is armed until you engage.” Thomas had taught Luke to assume that everyone was armed and act accordingly. “I need to be able to use what I have. Some new training.” He spoke as if thinking out loud, but of course he’d thought of all this a long time ago.
Luke nodded slowly, figuring that sight mattered a little less in the dark even though he knew he’d have a lot of trouble adapting to fighting without it. Then again, he wasn’t half as experienced as Thomas was. “That makes sense.” He glanced up thoughtfully, giving his full attention. There was little doubt in his mind that Thomas wasn’t just realizing all of this now considering all the time he’d already had to think about it. “So you’d probably have to train with someone, right?” The use of the word ‘help’ was intentionally omitted.
Thomas was grateful beyond words that nobody had yet mentioned “assistance,” “aid,” or “help.” He nodded slowly. “Yes, if possible.” He couldn’t look Luke in the eye, so he just sort of tilted his head his way. “I had hoped to recruit Nightwing to the cause, but he’s...” Thomas’ expression got rather bleak. “Busy. I don’t know if you have time.” He prodded at the toast again.
Luke couldn’t help wondering if Nightwing was actually too busy to help or if there was some other reason for his exclusion, and based on what he already knew about the two of them combined with Thomas’ expression he suspected it was the latter. He frowned and considered asking what he meant by ‘busy’, but thought better of it and decided to leave it alone. “Of course I have time,” he said, only slightly surprised. It wasn’t too difficult to realize that Thomas wasn’t used to asking for help, even in indirect ways. “It’ll be kind of like what we were doing before, just… a different kind of training.”
Thomas looked up at him, or rather toward him. "This time it's not you that needs the training." He dropped the vague gaze and pushed the remains of his toast away. It was only discipline that kept him eating regularly. He didn't have an appetite for anything anymore. "I just need to find out how this is going to work. If it will work."
“I know. That’s what I meant.” Luke was trying to avoid any outright mention of their reversed roles since it was clear enough who needed the training and who was providing the help, and he knew it wasn’t easy for Thomas to be in this kind of situation. Not that he would have been in it if he’d just called for help in the first place, but it was too late for any of that now. For now they’d have to make do with what he had. “It’ll work, Thomas. We’ll make it work,” he said firmly. There were a lot of things Luke realized he had no control over, but this wasn’t one of them. Even if he couldn’t do anything about his vision at least he could help keep it from holding Thomas back entirely.
Thomas didn’t have anything to say in reply to this, but all he could do was really agree. He wasn’t the type of man to try and smile, so he just nodded a little and pushed away from the table. “Are you still going to classes? What’s your schedule like?” He assumed that Luke had altered things to visit the hospital, but this might not be the case, and it was a roundabout way of asking. Now at his full height, he looked better, almost like normal, were it not for the lumberjack beard.
For a moment Luke honestly couldn’t remember what his schedule was like. He had tried to make some kind of effort to keep up, but the truth was that he’d missed quite a few classes over the past couple of weeks and if he didn’t start catching up soon he’d be lucky to pass the semester. He didn’t see a need to mention that, though, just like he’d never mentioned lightening his course load after Christmas break. “Yeah, I’m still going to classes. I missed some with everything that was going on, but it’s fine. I took care of it.” That wasn’t entirely true, but he intended on taking care of it and that had to count for something. “My schedule’s not too bad. I don’t have classes on, uh… Wednesdays. Most are during the day so I have a lot of free afternoons and evenings, but Mondays are kind of early.”
Thomas thought maybe something of the like was happening. He did not go so far as to call the school and find out, however, even though whatever funds Luke needed for his education were at his disposal, so technically they came from Thomas. “As long as it’s not too much of a strain. Your school is important.” Thomas still didn’t want Luke to think of vigilante work as his calling, because he himself felt he had no alternative, and he didn’t want Luke to be at all like him. “We’ll try Wednesday. After dark.”
“I know. It’s not too much of a strain, don’t worry.” Luke managed to keep the guilt out of his voice and hoped he sounded convincing instead. The importance of an education was something that had been drilled into his head since he was a kid, but he’d get back on track soon and figure out a way to manage his priorities properly. Dropping out of university wasn’t something he intended on doing. “Okay. Where?”
“The safehouse in the garage.” Where the vault was. Thomas looked faintly uncomfortable thinking about it. “The entry protocol hasn’t been changed.” He cleared his throat. “I can get transportation nearby and walk the rest of the way. I’m capable of getting down the street on my own, I think,” he said, with a hint of a sigh and more than a touch of annoyance at the inconvenience.
Luke noticed the faint discomfort and wondered if it was because Thomas knew they’d gone looking through the vault or some other reason. It didn’t seem right to keep it from him, not something like this, but if Max had already told him about it then there was no need to bring it up again. Luke decided it was safe to assume that Thomas knew and leave it at that. “Right. Okay.” He frowned at the ‘I think’. “Have you tried getting around on your own since you left the hospital? Outside of the apartment, I mean.”
“Yes. I’ve been to that particular location.” After Max had told him they went through it, he wanted to know what had been altered, and he had been able (after some work) to get the security system to read out loud the times of entry. He’d also checked to see what was there; he didn’t need to see to remember what he had put away and where the boxes had been. Everything had been returned, but he hadn’t been able to shake that sense of betrayal that had opened the only material things he held dear to other eyes. Some of that touched his expression, and he dropped his blank gaze to the table.
“Oh.” It wasn’t the fact that Thomas had already been there so much as his expression that confirmed it: he knew. Luke realized they shouldn’t have gone into the vault; they shouldn’t have even gone anywhere near the final plans folder in the first place. It was bad enough that they’d gone through his voice logs but at least that was out of necessity – there were no other leads. Beyond that the rest hadn’t been the least bit vital towards finding Thomas.“Sorry,” he said with more than a hint of guilt, involuntarily letting it slip out before he could give it any thought. There was no taking it back now. “About... you know.” He stared down into his coffee and sighed. Pathetic, that’s what he was.
Like Luke, Thomas knew exactly what they were talking about, and the dead air just grew heavier until finally he said, “Max said I would have done the same. She is probably right.” This was a strong concession on Thomas’ part, especially since there was no ‘probably’ about it. Thomas made it his business to be as informed as possible, and he was only just now understanding that some things he didn’t have any right to know. He shifted awkwardly, because he would have liked to know if Luke had negative feelings about being left such things, but he didn’t know how to say it.
Luke looked up at that, able to study his expression without it being obvious that he was doing so. Admittedly he probably would have been bothered by it too if he’d been in Thomas’ position, but it wasn’t as though they’d gone snooping out of sheer curiosity. Under normal circumstances he never would have thought to even attempt to access his computer. “Maybe you would have,” he said after a pause. “We were trying to find some kind of lead, somewhere to start looking. You’d want to find the same thing. But we still shouldn’t have gone through the boxes.” He shook his head. “It’s just… you weren’t dead, but we didn’t know that then. I put everything back, though,” he added, not that it really changed anything.
Thomas was strange and unfamiliar under the beard. It was impossible to tell if he was especially pale, or if he’d always been that way. He wasn’t eating a great deal, something that frustrated him because he was trying to get muscle back and he knew as well as anyone that required a lot of food. There was still a shadow under each cheekbone the beard didn’t quite hide, and the lack of focus made the gray eyes pale and quieter, and they showed more expression on the lines at the outside of each. The set of his mouth was deeper, and hints of emotion made it through more often. “I know. I looked. Not that... not that it’s not yours...” he trailed off.
Luke hadn’t talked about the contents of his box with anyone. He never once considered telling any of his friends about it, and he hadn’t discussed it with Max either, who was the only other person aside from Thomas who knew about the vault and what was inside. He didn’t know how to even start figuring out what he was supposed to say about it. “I know. I didn’t take anything because… well, I was supposed to have them if you were dead, right? So if I would have kept something…” This time he trailed off before trying again. “But you’re alive, so I don’t need them.”
Thomas nodded slowly, but despite the awkwardness, he felt compelled to say, “I didn’t leave anything for you because I thought you’d need it. That’s not why... that’s not why it’s there.” He rubbed a hand against his chin, and then over his temple in a sudden expression of tension.
Luke realized too late that ‘need’ probably hadn’t been the right word. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He thought he knew why Thomas had left him what he did, but maybe he was wrong. It wasn’t always easy to figure him out and he didn’t feel like guessing right now. “Why’s it there?”
Thomas wished to be elsewhere. He never had to account for his actions to anyone, it was part of why he worked so badly with others and ran into so many problems with Max. When one is used to being--well, one--none of this comes up. “It’s personal. I don’t have anything else personal, but what’s there. I thought it should go somewhere.”
Luke nodded. It was along the lines of what he’d already been thinking and the items definitely had been personal. He hadn’t paid attention to what Max took out but he assumed they were of a similar nature. “I get it. Things like that… they should go somewhere.” He started to wish he wasn’t sitting. It felt like he had to wait for the right moment to stand. “But we weren’t supposed to have any of it yet. That’s what I meant, when I said I didn’t need them.” Luke didn’t know what else to say. There was no way of approaching this kind of topic to make it easier, only harder. “Anyway, it… it won’t happen again.”
A ghost of a smile flickered over Thomas' face. It was unintentional, or surely it would not have lingered so long. "It has to, at least once more, I think. But not soon." He saved Luke the concern by pushing his plate away and his chair back, in unmistakable signs of exit. "I should get to the office soon. I'm glad you're up." And even more glad he'd slept.
“Better not be soon,” he muttered, but most of the tension left his shoulders. At least Thomas wouldn’t be doing anything that could potentially get him killed in the near future. “Yeah, I figured I had to get up sometime.” Luke swallowed another gulp of coffee and realized he was hungry, having relied on hospital food for the past few days. He noticed Thomas’ movements and stood himself, moving around the table and towards the cupboard. “Now you and Max don’t have to worry about bugging me to sleep,” he added, managing a smile for that.
Thomas paused in his orderly retreat, matching the smile he heard. “Max was going to bug you. I was going to find you and stare at you until you gave in and went to sleep just to make it stop.” He gave a little movement of his hand that might have been farewell, and moved back into the apartment.