Friday, August 13, 2004

59. Dick

Several more long nights of training since I last wrote here. The general pattern is this: we spend a couple of hours warming up and going through various exercises together, then Batman heads out to work on the Riddler case while I stay in the Cave and follow leads on the Tempest. In the comics, the good guys usually just take on one bad guy at a time, but here in Gotham things don't seem to be that linear.

Wednesday afternoon I had my weekly appointment with Tanhoger. I didn't have to deal with the issue of why I missed last week (ie, I was tied up and about to be killed by a masked madman) because when I walked in, I told him I was doing much better, didn't think I needed the drug he'd prescribed anymore, and was ready to terminate therapy. We spent the whole hour talking about that... and as the session went on, I felt this really weird sense of helplessness--like I still needed him more than I thought I did. He didn't say much at all, but looking into his eyes, I felt something akin to the way I did when Batman returned into my life earlier this week. I guess I just have this thing for self-assured older men. Anyway, I know it's just transference, but it was still pretty powerful all the same. So, against my better judgment, I changed my mind and said I'd see him again next week--and he says it's too dangerous to quit the meds cold turkey, so I'm staying on them, too.

On a related note, I have no idea how I'm going to handle things with Peter now. I'm supposed to get a night off from the Cave at some point in the next few days, but now that I'm officially an employee and not a volunteer, things seem a lot more formal. Plus, as Batman has pointed out, "crime doesn't take a break; neither do we." But I think he's willing to cut me some slack every now and then. We'll see.

Nothing overtly sexual between me and Bruce yet. I can't help thinking he's using my obvious attraction to him to keep me hooked--but then again it just seems so painfully obvious that he's a big old closet case, and the way he held me the other night couldn't have simply been a ploy.

Shit, my life is a soap opera in tights and masks. (Speaking of masks, I really have to talk to Alfred about mine--all it does is cover my eyes! Batman's cowl truly does disguise three quarters of his face, but anybody who knew me could take one look at "Robin" and recognize Dick Grayson underneath that slender strip of blackness. On the other hand, Bruce has made it very clear that I'm NOT going out in uniform again for a very long time.... so maybe we can clear that up in the meantime.)

Not even noon yet, but I'm heading back to sleep. Only got a couple of hours in before the phone rang and woke me up. My "hours" at the Cave are getting longer and longer, and I'm starting to get homework assignments--additional exercise regimen, reading, etc.

I can already feel my old life as Dick Grayson, Party Animal, slipping away. To be replaced by ... what, exactly? Beats me.