This is set in ancient times, just so you know. They exact time period probably become obvious soon enough.
Disclaimer: I own what rocks dream about. This goes for all chapters.
"We can't hide him anymore."
Dick looked up at Bruce, his foster father, eyes wide with surprise. "Whadda mean?"
"Look at him. He's too old. 2 months already... we can't keep him quiet forever, Dick."
Dick looked down at the baby in his arms, and scrunched up his face. "Huh? Not hide him? But Bruce! He's... he's my brother... he's your son! And we don't have anyone to give him to; that wouldn't make the problem go away! What should we do, kill him?"
"Dick, we're slaves of the Al ghuls, and they're scared of us. There are too many Gothamites now. You know the order that's gone out."
"Yeah, yeah 'kill all the baby boys, leave none alive', that's why we're hiding Thomas!"
"We can't hide him forever. He'll be too loud soon. And what happens when he gets older? We can't bring him out from nowhere: the Al ghuls aren't stupid; they'll know where he came from. Then we'll all die. Thomas included."
"Well what should we do, if you're so smart? How do we save him?"
Bruce sat down beside his sons, serious blue eyes firm and anguished. "This is why we faked your injury; to get you out of work today."
Dick had been wondering about that. It wasn't time to leave for work yet, so Bruce was still here, but if Dick wasn't leaving he did need an excuse. As an 11 year old boy, he was expected to work in the slave yards with everyone else. Faking an injury was a risky move. You could get in a lot of trouble for something like that. There had to be some good reason to fake an injury today, and Dick was more than worried about what it was.
But he hadn't thought it would include Thomas, Bruce's only son by blood.
"There's no way to make sure that we can save him, Dick. But... maybe we can hope."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You know I tinker around... make things. Well, I've come up with something small... a basket. It isn't airtight, but it is waterproof." Bruce lowered his head as if steeling himself, saying something that wrenched his heart from his body. In a way, it did.
"It's for your brother."