Author's Note; Hello, lovely readers! As promised, here is the start of the sequel to 'The Princely Pardon.' This is a Christmas fic, so my goal is to have it all up on or before the 25th. I'm bringing in a wider cast this time around, including Flash, KF, and maybe a little Superman. Happy reading!

Bruce came into the foyer, shaking snow off of his head and cursing under his breath. Alfred entered from the kitchen a moment later and raised an eyebrow as a particularly coarse word left his elder charge's mouth. "Sir, I don't think that sort of language is advisable when there could be little ears nearby," he chastised, reaching for his coat.

"Sorry," the billionaire said distractedly. "The roads are awful again, and that damned European acquisition…" he trailed off, trying to let it go now that he was home.

"Have you still been unable to reach an agreement, then?"

"Yes, and it's driving me up the wall. Their company is failing, but they keep insisting on these ridiculous concessions…I'm about ready to just call it all off and let them collapse. The problem is, Lucius is convinced that we can get them at a good price if we just hold out a little longer." Stepping out of his soaked shoes, he caught the butler's pinched expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing that you could have helped, sir," he answered as he regarded the dripping suede. "I should have read the weather report more closely before I laid your garments out this morning, is all."

"I tried to stay out of the snow, but…" he shrugged. "It's everywhere."

"So I've heard. They shut the schools down midday." He paused. "I need to speak with you regarding the school, in fact. There was an incident today involving Master Dick."

"Is he all right?" Bruce asked immediately, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, he's fine physically. Otherwise…well, I fear that the conversation you and I had a fortnight ago may have been more timely than we anticipated."

"Where is he?" I wondered why he didn't come flying in here to say hello. Most of the time I can barely get the door closed before he's on me.

"In the living room. I believe we should adjourn to the kitchen for this discussion, Master Wayne," he said seriously.

"Sure." He wanted nothing more than to rush in and comfort the boy, regardless of what had happened, but it seemed prudent to know the story before he did so. "Let's make it quick, though."

"Certainly." Once they were in the next room, Alfred took the unusual step of closing the doors.

"…That bad?" Bruce queried, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

"He was very upset when I picked him up. I don't particularly want to see him in that state again." He took a deep breath. "According to the headmaster, he instigated a fight in the schoolyard during the lunch recess."

"I don't believe that," the billionaire said immediately.

"Nor did I, sir, I assure you. After speaking with the counselor and the matron, however, I'm afraid I have to agree with them that all of the evidence points to his having thrown the first punch. The fact that he refuses to speak to anyone about it certainly hasn't helped shed any light on the situation, especially since the other child was very vocal and has an absolute harridan for a mother."

"…Alfred, this makes no sense. It's not like him at all. He had to have been provoked somehow."

"I know. That's why I haven't done or said anything in the way of punishment, and would advise that we hold off on it until we can get him to tell us his side of the story. He refused to talk to me, even," he said, looking a little hurt. "He merely stared out the window the entire way home, and then went directly into the living room when we arrived."

"…This is the last thing I wanted to come home to," Bruce groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't better able to handle the situation, sir, but as I said he's completely closed himself off. I honestly think the only person he may be willing to speak to about it is you."

"I'll give it a try," he sighed, getting up.

"If you would, Master Wayne, take a glance at the snack I took in to him a while ago. I have a suspicion that he hasn't touched it." He sent him a meaningful glance.

Ooh, that's a bad sign, Bruce thought as he travelled the short distance across the hall to the living room. The room was dominated by a huge, sparkling tree that brushed the ceiling fifteen feet above. Looking at it, he thought back to some ten days before, when the three of them had driven far out of the city to a sprawling country farm. They had tromped around for hours in the woods, stopping to watch deer when they encountered them, as Dick rejected specimen after specimen. Finally, just as the enjoyment was starting to wear thin for both adults, the boy had squealed and raced to a stately Balsam Fir, declaring it to be 'perfect.' Relieved and relatively certain that the tree would fit into the house, they'd agreed immediately.

It had taken Alfred several hours to move all of the decorations down from the attic, and the sheer size of the thing had necessitated that it be decked over the course of two evenings. Dick had begged to be the one to put the star on top, and finally Bruce had relented, carrying him up the ladder and keeping his hands firmly around his narrow waist as he placed it carefully. Finished, they had all three stepped back to admire the flashing lights glinting off of hundreds of glass baubles. In the dark it made the room feel like a disco, but the boy thought it was gorgeous, and that was what mattered.

Tearing his eyes away, Bruce found that he wasn't the only one staring at the conifer. "Hey, kiddo," he said quietly, sitting on the couch close beside him. He's not bouncing, he observed sadly. Normally he's moving something, jiggling a foot, at least. But he looks like he's been sitting this way since he got home.

"…Hi," he whispered back without looking at him, seemingly entranced.

"How was school?" The only response he received was a nearly invisible shrug, more of a twitch that anything. His eyes slid to the plate on the end table, widening when they found three utterly untouched chocolate chip cookies. Okay, now I know something's wrong. "I want you to know that I'm not mad at you, whatever happened today."

"Okay," he said hoarsely, not really believing it. You told me not to fight, and I hit him first. I mean, he deserved it, but…I still started it. Even if you're not mad, you'll be disappointed, and that's worse.

"…You want to tell me about it?"

"…No."

"I need to know what happened, chum. I can't make it better if I don't know what happened."

"I know Alfred already told you," he murmured miserably. "I started a fight. Just like the principal said." He sniffed, fighting back tears.

"Okay," Bruce breathed, a little shocked. "That's not like you. You must have had a reason."

"I was mad."

"Oh, yeah? What made you mad?"

"…He's a really mean person, Bruce. He's mean to me all the time, even though I never did anything to him." He was losing control now, wet trails starting down his cheeks as he bent his face against his pulled-up knees. "Everyone is mean to me, and I don't know why!" Sobs overtook him, and he felt himself being pulled into his guardian's arms.

"Hush, Dicky, it's okay," he soothed, on the verge of tears himself at the raw loneliness he heard in his child's cries. "Hush, now," he rocked him, knowing the motion had a tendency to work wonders on the boy. He wondered vaguely if his parents had taken him up onto the trapeze to rock him when he'd been sick or upset as a baby, and was just deciding that they probably had when the child pressed against him began to quiet. "Okay now?" he asked, looking down to find anguish-darkened eyes and trembling lips. Oh, little bird, I hate how depressed you look right now.

"…Not really," he heard in reply.

"Let's talk a little about what happened, all right?"

"I don't want to, Bruce," he turned his face away. "I just…I just don't want to go back there anymore. Please?"

He sighed, remembering the content of his conversation with Alfred two weeks before. His classes bore him, and he has no friends. The first part doesn't surprise me in the least, but the other…how could anyone in their right mind not immediately adore him? "Dick, I won't lie to you," he said after a pause. "Alfred and I have talked recently about switching your school, or pulling you out entirely and teaching you at home."

"Oh, Bruce, yes, please, please don't make me go back there," he begged. "Let Alfred teach me, and you too, please!"

"Hold on," he halted him. "There are a couple of things that make me hesitate to do that, and I want you to understand what they are. First, you need to be able to interact with people your own age. It's not healthy for you to only ever be around adults, and if we pull you out of school that's going to become very difficult. Second, I don't want to give you the impression that you can just run away from your problems."

"I know that. I don't run away unless you tell me to," he defended himself, looking a little hurt at the suggestion.

"I know you don't. You're very brave," he said quietly, wiping one of the boy's tears away with his thumb. Too brave, sometimes. "I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was that it's best to try and resolve whatever problems you're having with the kids in your class rather than just walking away from them."

"I don't have problems with them. They seem to have a problem with me."

"And what is that problem?"

"They don't like me," he slumped. "I don't know why. They haven't liked me since the first day. It wasn't so bad at first, but ever since the end of last quarter they all seem to just hate me."

"…You told me a couple weeks ago that you thought they just didn't understand you," Bruce reminded him. "Remember, the night we went sledding under the full moon? What happened to that?"

"They don't want to understand. They just want to make fun of me. I thought…I thought they were asking questions because they were trying to get to know me, but…they were just looking for better ammunition."

"It sounds like it's been going on for a while, huh?"

"Yeah. Like I said, since the end of last quarter."

Over a month, Bruce thought. They've been being awful to him for over a month, and he didn't say anything. No one said anything, not even his teachers. No wonder he was so excited to have as many snow days as there have been these past few weeks. How did no one notice this? "Why didn't you tell me, or Alfred? Or your teacher?"

"My teachers are always really busy," he shrugged. "They never really have time to talk. I got permission to go to the counselor once, but then the teacher let it slip where I was and everyone just made more fun of me. The counselor wasn't even in, so it didn't do any good."

"Why didn't you come to us? You know we would have listened, don't you?"

"Yes," he whispered, leaning against him. "But you're both super busy, too, and I didn't want to cause problems…and I was trying to do what you said. Resolve it." He shook his head. "But it's not working, and now I'm in trouble and I know it doesn't reflect good on you…" He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and screwed up his face. Don't cry any more, don't cry…

"I don't care about that, Dicky," the billionaire hugged him. "I just want to make sure you're okay. People will say things about me regardless of what you do."

"I know," he moaned. That's the problem.

"So what did this other boy say to you that set you off?"

"He says a lot of things, all the time. He used to just call me names; Gypsy scum, gutter trash, stuff like that. Since report cards came out he says I'm a suck up because I get good grades. He…implies things about me and some of the adults. Things I don't really understand, Bruce, but they sound nasty, and like things you definitely shouldn't be doing with teachers. He says that's why I don't fail on tests and stuff, is because I do those…things." He paused. "Sometimes he says stuff about my parents, too. He said once that they probably deserved to…to die," his breath hitched. "I almost hit him when he said that. I almost did, but I stopped myself."

"Are those the kinds of things he was saying today?" He was raging inside, his stomach tying itself in knots as he reflected on the fact that his boy had been putting up with this kind of constant torment for weeks and had never said a word in complaint. It must have been just eating him up this whole time, he bemoaned. But he was so happy at home that I never thought to really question him about whether he was happy at school…

"No. Besides, lots of people say those kinds of things to me, not just him. They bother me, but…I wouldn't fight them over it. There'd probably be too many of them for me to win, anyway."

"…Then what did he say?"

His voice dropped into something barely audible. "He was saying things about you."

"About me?"

"Yeah. He said you…you didn't really love me. That you just wanted me as a…a plaything. That it was unnatural, and that I was…" He clammed up suddenly.

"That you were what, chum?"

"I can't say it, it's got bad words in it."

"You have my permission to repeat what he called you, one time only."

"Okay," he let out a long breath. "He called me 'Bruce Wayne's little bitch fuckboy.'"

The man's nostrils flared as he hissed angrily. It was, he would decide later, a very, very good thing that he heard that phrase in the manor and not at the school, or he might have done something he would have regretted very much. "What?!"

"I'm sorry, I told you it had bad words in it!" Dick recoiled, thinking the rage on his guardian's face was directed at him.

"No," Bruce calmed quickly, tucking his ire back as he saw the confusion on his son's features. "No, Dicky, I'm not mad at you. Never at you." He cupped his cheek as they both relaxed somewhat. "You know that what he said isn't true, right? You're not…" he closed his eyes. "You're not what he called you. That is so far from the truth."

"I know," he nodded, giving him a tiny smile. "And I know you love me, even if you can't say it."

Oh, kiddo…you have no idea, he thought, biting his lip slightly.

"But it still made me want to hit him. So…I did." He looked away. "And then once I started I…I didn't want to stop. I just kept thinking about all those things he'd said, about me, and you, and my parents, and I…I didn't want to stop. I know I hurt him, the nurse said he might have a broken nose, but…he hurt me first, Bruce. Over and over again," he disclosed, wrapping his arms around his stomach as if each word over the months had been a blow to his gut.

"Dick, look at me," Bruce ordered gently. When their eyes met, he spoke seriously. "You didn't do anything wrong. Usually I would say that words should just be shrugged off, but what he was putting you through was unacceptable. You were defending yourself. If someone ever treats you like that again, though, I want you to come to me or Alfred before it devolves into a fight. Okay?"

"…Okay," he nodded. "…Does this mean I have to go back to school, Bruce? Because I still don't want to. Everyone else is just going to keep being mean to me, I know it. They…they practically cheered when the playground monitor who broke us up said I was probably going to be suspended."

"I don't know yet," he said frankly. "We're going to go to the school tomorrow and have a long discussion with the principal, and then we'll see. I'm sorry I can't give you a definite answer right now, but we're going to get this taken care of. I promise." Thin arms wrapped around his neck, drawing a smile. "So you kicked his butt?"

"Totally. He only hit me once."

"…You didn't give too much away did you? No fancy moves?"

"Nope. I just punched him a lot and stepped out of the way when he came at me. He fights like a rhino; he runs at you, but he can't stop or turn in time to follow you if you just sidestep. I barely had to do anything to avoid him, except that I didn't move fast enough one time."

"Did the nurse look at where he hit you?"

"No. I didn't tell her about it."

"Let me see." Dick shoved the collar of his shirt over to reveal a raised purple welt running two inches along the ridge of his collarbone. "Ouch," Bruce commiserated, fingering it lightly. Well, at least it's not broken, he considered. "Does it hurt?"

"Kind of. It's okay. It hurt a lot more when he first hit me. He almost knocked me over." A tiny grin. "I recovered, though."

"Was he bigger than you?"

"He's thirteen. I heard someone say he's been held back twice. So, yeah, he's pretty big."

"He's a coward," Bruce opined. "…Here," he reached over and snatched up the plate Alfred had left some time earlier. "You earned these."

"…Will you have one with me?" he asked hopefully.

He couldn't help but grin. "You bet I will, chum."