Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (13/17)
Title: Rainbow's Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (13/17)
Author: BradyGirl
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Bruce, Alfred
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized bedslave whom he learns to cherish...but can he every truly love a slave? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: While Clark recovers, Bruce never leaves his side.
Date Of Completion: March 5, 2007
Date Of Posting: April 16, 2007
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, DC does, more's the pity.
Word Count: 741
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Paradise,
Once lost,
Is found,
With the joy
Of his smile.
Wallace Whitman
“Apples ‘N’ Cinnamon:
The Poetry Romantic”
1906 C.E.
XIII
PARADISE
Bruce was right. It did take Clark a few days to recover even with the benefit of the amazing healing cream. Bruce stayed at the Manor, using his computer and cellphone to stay in touch with Lucius Fox. He brought Clark all his meals in bed, insisting his slave lay on the couch in his study while he worked.
Clark was surprised. He had thought it would have been Alfred bringing him the tray with the sumptuous breakfasts, but it was Bruce who did so, fussing and making sure Clark was comfortable with plenty of pillows.
What surprised Clark even more was Bruce taking his breakfast with him, setting up the plate, cup and utensils on a collapsible tray while he sat in a chair and they talked of small things as the sun streamed in through the windows, highlighting Bruce’s hair and winking off the silverware as he gestured to make a point.
On the third day Clark was permitted to soak up the sun in the garden on a chaise lounge. As always, the sun agreed with him, his health improving every hour that he enjoyed the warmth.
By the sixth day, Alfred brought a mid-morning snack out to the table where Clark and Bruce were enjoying the sun.
“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said.
The kitchen radio was on and a snatch of news drifted out to their ears as the door slowly shut.
“Majors Hal Jordan and Steve Trevor successfully tested the X-16 numerous times in the past several days, the U.S. Air Force announced.
“In other news, our own local vigilante, the Batman, has been on a rampage the past week. Witnesses have reported a dark rage even deeper than usual…”
“You’re welcome, sir. Clark, when you finish the chocolate chip cookies, will you please pick me a basket of apples?”
“Ah, I smell a pie in my future!”
“Quite so.”
“Be happy to.”
Bruce frowned. “Should you…?”
“I’m fine, Master. In fact, I’d like to resume our work-outs tomorrow if I could.”
Bruce reluctantly said, “All right.”
After the snack was finished, Clark rose from his chair. “I’ll get the ladder out.”
“I’ll do it.”
Clark watched in amusement as Bruce went to the garden shed and came out with the ladder. If an observer had not noticed Clark’s manacles he would have been hard-pressed to discern who was the Master and who was the slave. He took the basket that Alfred handed him.
It was a five-minute walk to the orchard, Clark enjoying the golden day. Leaves blew around in the wind, creating showers of color.
“It’s so beautiful,” Clark said, still awed every day by Nature’s beauty.
“We’re right at the peak of foliage time,” Bruce said.
Happiness flowed through Clark. He had been lucky to wind up here on this estate with Alfred and this Master.
Bruce propped the ladder up against a gnarled but fruitful tree. “Hold it steady.” Clark obeyed, Bruce climbing up the ladder with the basket, efficiently picking apples.
Clark smiled. He was getting a wonderful view of Bruce’s luscious ass! Blushing, he allowed himself the indulgence of ogling. Surely a bedslave could do his duty better if he appreciated the Masterful goods.
Bruce leaned over, trying to grasp an apple just out of reach.
Alarmed, Clark called, “Careful, Master!”
Bruce steadied himself and touched the fruit with his fingertips. Concentrating hard, he strained his muscles, then grabbed the apple and plucked it off the branch with a cry of triumph. He clambered down the ladder, his face flushed with success.
Clark laughed. Such a simple thing could make his serious Master happy!
Bruce was a good Master. He kept him safe, cared for him, and did all the little things that showed his considerate nature. His guilt over the whipping touched Clark, because he knew that Bruce had had very little choice in that matter.
He broke his Code for me!
As Bruce stood there offering him the apple with a joyous smile on his face, the wind ruffling his dark hair while golden leaves whirled around them in little wild arcs, it hit Clark.
Revelation.
He took the proffered fruit.
Joy.
He bit into the apple.
He didn’t just feel affection for his Master.
Sweet, delicious. juice.
He was in love with him!