More often than not a fanfiction can do a complete 180 and you find yourself struggling to make a chapter work. I usually have to totally start fresh and take the story in a different direction. This is an example of a cut chapter, one that I place into a separate folder, just so I can enjoy reading it when I get writers block or consider other stories to write. I figured, what the hell, why not let you all enjoy the fanfiction-cuts as well. It's sorta' like, uh, deleted scenes, except not at all.

You Do Good, You Find Good

By: The BatThing

Chapter Twenty-Two (Cut):

"I found it in his bathroom." Jason Todd held the orange bottle of pills in his hand, clutching onto it. His face displayed excitement, because he knew what these pills did, what they were worth, and how to use them. "You promised, remember?"

Dick Grayson stood, hardly a foot away, peering at the items displayed. The two were huddled, hidden in Dick's bedroom closet, which sometimes doubled as a 'fort'. Though, this time the fort didn't seem near as much fun as times prior. Biting his lower lip, Dick carefully shook his head, trying to convey his confusion.

"He don't use them. He ain't even gonna' notice that they're gone neither. They were in the way back."

"But we'll get in trouble. Dad told you that smoking is bad, remember?" The reference went out to the pack of cigarettes in Jason's back pocket. He had gotten them the other day at school. All it took was paying some older classmate to swipe them from home.

"Only if you tell."

"I won't tell!"

"'Cause you promised?"

"'Cause I promised."

Jason nodded, happy to hear that the agreement hadn't changed. He put the bottle down and pulled out the pack from his back pocket. "You don't gotta' smoke, Dickie. I just wanted to show ya'."

Interest peaked, Dick watched Jason lit up, curious as to what all the hype was about. He had heard smoking was bad, but if that was true then why did so many people do it? "Miles Combat smokes." The comment was soft, not even meant to be spoken, just a little thought that came to mind.

"Sure he does, 'cause he's a badass." The smell of smoke began, and Jason sat back, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and holding it out towards his older brother. "You can just try once, I won't tell."

Of course Dick knew that Jason wouldn't tattle. That had never honestly been a concern. It was more of the fear that Alfred and Bruce would somehow figure it out. The two men had a strange way of knowing when Dick had done something bad. But … like Jason had said, they won't know unless somebody told on them, and there was nobody present that was going to volunteer that information readily. So, with hardly any confidence and a handful of curiosity, Dick accepted the small object.

At first it was awful, and Jason laughed at him, but a few minutes later Dick was trying again, feeling like Miles Combat, camping out in the jungle, having just defeated a group of terrorists, and readying for another battle.

Jason was shaking the bottle of pills. He kept looking at them, turning the bottle over in his hands, thinking on the matter.

"What are they anyhow?"

"Pain killers." Jason muttered. "My dad use to always sell 'em to people for a ton of money. He hadda' prescription and we gotta' lots of money for 'em."

"Like the stuff Alfred gives us?"

At this Jason made a face, lifting his head to look over at the gypsy before him. "No."

"What will you do with them?"

"I dunno." He unscrewed the lid and poured two into his hand, and then offered them to Dick. "You take these, but don't eat them, ok? They'll make you sick."

"Why should I take them?" He took them anyhow, putting them in his pocket, feeling as cool as could be.

"When you go to bed tonight take one." Jason shrugged. "You'll see. It makes things feel really good."

There was a noise from outside, a car, and Dick shot to his feet, huge smile on his face. "Dad's home!" This was always the best time of day, it meant he got to hang out with Bruce for a few moments, and if he was lucky, the man would even play soccer with him! Nobody was as good at soccer as Bruce was, and Dick liked the practice. He gave Jason back the cigarette and hurried away, running down the stairs as fast as he could, grabbing his soccer ball from the couch, and bolting onward, about running into Alfred on the way. "SORRY ALF!"

Alfred always understood, because, after all, this was the best time of day.

Dick made his way outside and to the car garage. He stood at the entrance, jumping up and down at the sight of his guardian. "Guess what! Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!"

Guess what? Bruce shook his head, clueless. He had just gotten out of the car and was collecting his things. The office had been like a prison today, and it was good to be home. The sky was clear, and the sun was shining, a perfect summer afternoon. He had expected Dick to want to play a round of soccer, and had come prepared, already wearing jeans and tennis shoes, having changed at the office. "What's up, chum?"

"Jays and I played soccer this morning and I taught him how to juggle the ball! He's not as good as it as I am, but he learned ok. I taught him though, just like you taught me. I don't think he learned as fast, but that's just 'cause he's new to it still. Not like us, huh?"

Bruce smiled, approaching the boy. "Tell you what, I'll go upstairs and change, then we'll play a quick game. You should go see if Jays wants to join in this time." That was a slim possibility. The billionaire was still having trouble getting Jason to trust him. It didn't mean he wouldn't try though. "You should tell him that I want to see this juggling trick."

"Ok, but like I said, he's not as good as we are still."

"I think he'll be in time, after all-." Bruce's words ended abruptly, he had smelled a smoky air for the past second or so, and it just dawned on him where the smell was coming from and that it wasn't 'just' smoke. He squatted down in front of the child and looked him in the eyes. "Richard." The tone did all the work.

Dick's eyes got wide, screaming his guilt. "Wh-what?" His hand went to his pocket in an instant, wondering if Bruce had seen the pills somehow. The motion didn't go unnoticed, and the billionaire snatched the boy's wrist.

"What's in your back pocket, Richard?"

"…Nothing. Nothing is there." Dick didn't like lying, he looked away from his guardian, unable to swallow, his throat swelling. "I hafta' go to the bathroom." He stepped away only to find that the grasp on his wrist was secure.

"Please give me what's in your pocket."

"But nothing is in there, Dad." Hardly a whisper, Dick shook his head. His lies were pointless. Bruce turned him sideways, and checked the pocket himself. He had planned to find a cigarette, but to his surprise discovered the two pills.

In an instant he was seeing red. "Where did you get these?" He was not yelling, but it didn't make a difference. The tone he spoke in was horrible to hear, and Dick started to tremble. "You were smoking with Jason, weren't you?"

Silence. Dick wasn't even facing his guardian, having been forced to look at the cars as had been searched. So he remained staring at the vehicles, finding them less daunting. He kept telling himself he wasn't going to cry.

Bruce stood up and grabbed the Romanian boy under his arm, dragging him towards the house. Neither of them said a word, not even when they passed Alfred, or went up the stairs to Jason's room. It was empty. "Where is Jason?"

Here was a situation. Dick had promised silence, how could he turn on that? Jason trusted him more than anyone else. "I don't know."

"You're in a lot of trouble, Richard John Grayson. Lying is only going to make it worse."

"I made a promise."

"I don't care."

"I can't break a promise!"

Bruce dragged the boy further down the hall, to Dick's room, and opened the door. He could smell the smoke. Silent, he went to the closet only to be greeted with Dick struggling, which he found unexpected. This wasn't something he was accustomed to in the least. Dick had never been like this before, not like this. He simply let the child go and continued to the closet, deciding to deal with the bigger problem. Opening it up, he found Jason. It were as if the boy had been waiting for him. He stood, arms crossed, looking up at the billionaire as if he had been wronged.

"So what?" Jason snarled.

That was quite enough. Bruce reached over and dragged the child out, forcing him into the light. "Where did you get those pills?"

"Your bathroom. Where did you get them?"

"You stole."

"No I didn't. I was putting them back. You don't know nothing!"

"Then why did you give some to Richard?"

"…I don't know, we were playing a game! So what?"

Bruce turned to look at Dick, eyes narrowed. "Get over here and tell me what happened, Richard."

Dick didn't budge. He just shook his head, looking at Jason, unable to face his guardian. He had promised. He had made a pact. Jason was counting on him. He was the reason they were in trouble now, and he was going to make sure that he didn't do anything else to ruin it.

"You have three seconds to start talking."

The three seconds passed in silence.

Bruce walked towards the door. "Follow me, Richard. We're going to have a talk. Jason, you stay right there, if you go anywhere you'll be in big trouble."

"Seems like it don't matter." Jason growled.

Dick did as he was told, following Bruce out of his bedroom and down the hall to, oddly enough, Jason's room. They went inside and Bruce slammed the door shut behind them. "Tell me the truth."

Refusal earned Dick tears and a sore backside. His arm hurt as well, from the iron grasp that Bruce had on it. It took a minute and probably fifteen hard swats before Dick was sobbing and blubbering out the truth. "Jay-Jays juh-juh-just wanted to sh-sh-sh-show me!"

"You both smoked."

Furious nodding.

"How did he get the cigarettes."

"I duh-dunno!"

"What was he going to do with the medication. Did either of you take any?"

Dick shook from head to foot, he was utterly panicked. "NO! He just said they were pain killers. I didn't know they were bad!"

"You knew he stole though. You knew smoking was wrong."

Dick just cried.

"What was he going to do with the medication?"

"Muh-money. He said they were worth a lot. Suh-said that, said t-to take 'em before bed tonight."

Bruce shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, considering taking Jason back to where he had gotten him. This was a big deal. Not only had Jason endangered himself, but now Dick as well. It was dangerous, it was illegal, and Jason knew it.

"Richard." The billionaire had found his calm, shutting his eyes. He pictured still dark, where no shadows could move. He was there. Nothing passed. No air, no space, just cool, cloaking dark. Though, as soon as he found that place he forced his eyelids back open and saw the small, trembling figure before him. "I know you love Jason. I realized that you want to protect him. But, if you really want that, want to take care of him, then you have to realize that this sort of thing is not ok. That keeping dangerous secrets is hurtful. Jason could die from these pills, his smoking can give him lung cancer, and if he were to be caught selling this prescription, he could go to jail. Do you want those things to happen?"

A furious shake of the head.

"Then you need to tell us when he does bad things."

"Ok. I will. I promise."

"Good. I'll hold you to that promise. Now, can you make me another promise?"

"Yes. Anything you want. I promise!" It was obvious that the child was still shaken up from the whole ordeal, and his words were rushed, hardly thought through. At this point he just wanted to make things better. To be forgiven. He didn't like it when Bruce lost trust. They were pals, buddies, chums. "I won't break my promises."

"I know you won't. So, promise me that you'll never, ever do something this stupid again. Smoking, drugs, lying – they're all bad."

"I know." The child held his hand forward, offering a pinky. "Pinky promise."

It's funny, the ways things can slowly deteriorate without any warning. Dick found himself in a situation that he couldn't even figure out when and where he took this turn in the wrong direction. After Jason had disappeared, yes, of course things changed. The world had been turned upside down and his family became like strangers in just a matter of hours. Dick had hardly been able to recognize himself at that point, but he had become accustom to the new personalities and differences. It was different then, but they managed to get along. It was harder some days than others, but Dick was so sure that he had psyched himself into making it work. He had vowed to be hopeful, to be lighthearted. He would smile even if Bruce, Tim, and Alfred were all miserable.

But, Dick Grayson was finding it harder and harder to keep his promise. The lack of sleep, he decided, was the reason. All he needed was deep, healing sleep to make this right. There was just the little problem of fearing sleep.

He had awoken, the other night, forearm in his mouth, his own pain the only thing that pulled him out of the nightmare. He didn't know how long he had continued biting down, but by the time he realized, he had dried blood on his shirt, sheets, and even his own face. Thankful nobody had found him. Dick had cleaned up his mess and bandaged his arm, hoping that he wouldn't need stitches. Fortunately, the bleeding stopped, but the teenager found himself dreading the idea of sleeping again. Had this been the first time, it might be 'ok', but the fact of the matter was that this happened at least once or twice a month these days.

There was really no explaining how it happened or why it had even started.

Dick didn't like those dreams, and he didn't like the damage he did to himself because of those dreams. The only solution he had was to stay awake, which naturally affected his school attendance, grades, and social life. Everything had changed, it seemed, and he didn't know what to do about it.

Telling somebody was one thing to do, getting some help. It seemed like a perfectly good idea, but for whatever reason, Dick didn't. He almost had, once, but as soon as he had gotten home he chickened out. It was because of Bruce, because of Alfred, because of Tim – and over all, it was all because of Jason Todd.

Bruce was always busy these days, stressed, quiet, detached most days, and often enough grumpy. His relationship with Dick was one of business, rules, and disappointment. He didn't hide how he felt about the way the teenager was turning out.

"You're going to fail out of school if you keep acting the way you have been." Bruce had said those words months ago, after one particularly long fall break. Dick had come home for the extended weekend only to get yelled at and criticized. Bruce said he was too hyper, that he didn't think things through, that he was immature and irresponsible. "Do you even care about your future?"

The words had stung, naturally. Dick didn't even know why they had been said, they were unfair. So what if he was hyper? He hadn't hurt anyone, or broken anything. Rather than answer the question, he looked away, upset.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. You don't pay attention. You would think, at your age, you would progress rather than regress. Tell Alfred to make a doctor's appointment. I can't deal with this anymore. You're getting some medication to control this nonsense."

It was finally springtime in Gotham City. Morning was arriving with sunshine rather than gray clouds, and the night was not as eager to make an appearance. Thunder and lightning, rain and warm wet winds were all that came with overcast days, and even they were welcome, turning the city greener and brighter. The change had been needed. It made things better, even people. There were cars with windows down, smiles on faces, the smell of the first grills lighting up (maybe a bit too early), and joggers at every turn. Sunlight and warm weather – they had been missed.

Summer would be here soon.

The university was especially affected because the students took the change in weather as they should: the finish line was in sight for the semester. Richard Grayson took this as an unfortunate challenge. The spring semester had been … well, far from easy. Usually an all A student, he found his grades unmotivated. It wasn't because he was in challenging classes either, or because his schedule was full. Rather he faced the problem of earning poor marks due to the lack of trying, something he couldn't understand quite himself.

He was far from lazy, because, after all, he had been brought up a hard worker. Brining these grades home would mean he would face a very dramatic change in lifestyle. His summer would be consumed with classes, tutors, living at home under close watch, no car, no social life, just focusing on making up for this semester. He would be grounded.

"I can't believe you let it get this bad." Barbara Gordon had been summoned for help, because Dick realized he was going to need a lot of it to pass with a C average. She had come over to his apartment and tried to do what she could to undo any of the damage. "I mean, what have you been doing this whole time? Even your backpack is a mess!"

"I didn't ask you to come here to clean my room, Barb!" Dick snatched his book bag out of her clutches and scowled. "I need you to help save my ass, because I'm in deep shit."

"I'll say! You're failing all but two classes."

Even now he turned red at the statement, ashamed at the truth. He hugged his book-bag to his chest, unable to say anything to deny what had been said. He didn't look at her. He didn't really look anywhere, more just stared off into nothing, thinking about what this all meant. How he had come to this point.

"Dick." Her tone was soft. "Listen, we both know you're going to probably fail Music History, I mean, you didn't show for two of the exams. And getting by with a C in the others is the best you can do at this point, and that's if you work your ass off." She paused, thinking about if it would be ok to continue on with this lecture. "I'm your friend, I'm not stupid. I know you're plenty smart, so what happened?"

"I didn't go. I, uh, I stopped going to a lot of my classes."

"Why?"

"Because … because I just did. I don't know. I mean, I went to a few parties, and slept through a few lectures, and some days I just didn't feel like going."

She had been afraid this would be his answer. "Well, sounds like you'll have to make up for this semester, kiddo. If I were you I would tell Alfred, have him keep you accountable. He's nice, he'll understand if you tell him the truth and say you want to make it right."

"Babs, Alf will tell Bruce, and Bruce won't understand. He's already been riding my ass about how he doesn't think I'm mature enough. Once he finds out that I'm failing he'll make me move home, take away my car, I'll have no social life." Dick inwardly shuttered at the thought. There was nothing better than summer, and he had never been the type to be cooped up. "Alfred tells Bruce everything. He has to."

"You act like being grounded is the end of the world. If you ask me, it's just what you need. You messed things up and now it's time to make it right. You didn't call me here to pity you, Richard, you called me here to help you get out of this mess. Seems like maybe moving home is what you need."

"I called you here to help me pass so I can avoid this whole mess."

She shook her red head, hair flipping about in its ponytail. "No can do, we both know that. Tell you what though: I'll go with you when you tell them. How's that? Support!" She gave a kind, pretty smile.

"No thanks, I'm not telling them till I know for sure that I failed. I still have time."

Time, sadly, was in high demand. Dick Grayson only had a few weeks before finals, and despite all his talk, even though he had made the statement that he was going to turn things around and do it right, his lifestyle hardly changed. The realization that there was so much work to be done, with hardly any reward, made him lose his fire. He found himself surrounded by kids just like him, unmotivated. He had always been raised to make good choices, to know right from wrong, good from bad. Bien fatsi, bien gratsi, right? Isn't that what his mother had always said?

The Romanian proverb didn't hold the same grip on him as it had those years ago. He had been good, and still bad things kept happening. Jason wasn't here, was he?

'Stop it!' He would scold himself constantly, refusing to think like that. He would be happy, because there was no proof that Jason wouldn't come back one day. Something deep inside still felt Jason. He refused to let that go. He refused to think like everyone else. He refused to be sad. He wasn't sad.

But still, he wasn't exactly making good choices. Grades were a problem, true, but there were a few other things that he hadn't mentioned to Barbara. There were things like his roommates little hobby of the occasional reefer, and how Dick had spent time and money joining in on the 'fun'. It was mindless, it was easy, and it felt good. Besides, there was talk of legalization, and Dick didn't see how it was any worse than getting drunk. In fact, he thought drinking was much more dangerous than smoking marijuana. It was all about government control, that's all.

So, he'd light up and try to enjoy these last few weeks of freedom. Soon enough he'd be a prisoner, so why not enjoy what little time he had left? He had developed the habit of smoking a bit before bed, a big reason he was missing so much class. Tonight was no different, as soon as he smelled the joint he felt his whole body, and mind, relax. Puff, puff, and nobody to pass to – he didn't mind that.

"Yo, Grayson." Shawn Jacobs pushed his door open, giving his head a short nod. "Some chick is here to see you. The one you got the crush on? Told her to wait downstairs, so you might wanna' put that out, man."

"Barbara?" Dick did as instructed, pushing the joint into a small cedar box and placing it on his bookstand. He got to his feet and followed Shawn downstairs to where Barbara stood, arms crossed, looking annoyed at the young man who was flirting with her. It was one of Shawn's friends, and Dick decided he didn't much like the guy. "Hey Barb, you can come up."

"It was nice to talk, Brett." She politely dismissed herself from her current company and walked up the stairs, smiling at Dick momentarily.

Dick just looked Brett up and down, and then in an act of immaturity and stupid pride, he took Barbara's hand and led her to his room. She allowed it, begrudgingly, until they were out of Brett's sight, and then pulled it away.

"I don't like it when you do that, Richard." She whispered the statement, walking into his room, cradling the hand, as if he had hurt it. She sat on his bed and made a face. "What's that smell? Somebody's smoking marijuana in this house."

He acted like it wasn't important and took a seat beside her, daring to sit a little closer than usual. "Brett and Shawn do sometimes."

"It stinks."

"Yeah, well. So, you missed me and had to come over for a visit?"

"Well, you have been avoiding me, so I guess. What's with you not returning my calls?" Concern was apparent. "I thought you said I was supposed to be keeping you accountable with school. How can I do that if you won't even talk to me? You are going to class, right?"

Dick nodded, obviously lying; it had never been something that had come easily to him.

"You're lying."

"Barb, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You … I mean we've been best friends for a long time. I care about you and you care about me. Right? That's why you worry about me, and that's why I worry about you."

She chose her words like an expert. "Of course, you're like a brother to me." Brother.

"Brother." He repeated, clearly not liking her choice in words.

"Dick, what are you doing?" She stood up, facing him, hands going to her hips. "You know what I'm going to say, so why are you bringing this up? I'm not here to talk about that, I want to know how you're doing. Clearly, not well." She made another face. "Were they smoking in here?"

"I don't know."

Barbara knew. She knew in that instant and simply turned on her heels and left, slamming the door behind her. When Dick followed behind, questioning what she was doing, and where she was going, she simply slapped him. It stung. "YOU ARE AN IDIOT!"

"HEY!"

She kept walking, right past Shawn and Brett downstairs, ignoring Dick's yelling. He ran after her, slamming the door shut behind him and grabbing her wrist, forcing her to stop and look at him. It was a little chilly out, but he didn't care. A party a few houses down was going on, making enough noise to cover up their conversation from the neighborhood. Good, great, whatever.

"Let me go." She demanded, eyes averted, the girl was close to tears and she didn't even know why this was so emotional for her. So Dick smoked, most college kids did. She had even tried it once. This didn't mean he was a horrible person. So why was she so upset? "I just want to go home. You clearly don't want to talk to me in the same way I want to talk to you."

"What's that mean?" He noticed she had left without her jacket, and wondered if she was getting cold. "Listen, I'm sorry. Let's go back inside and talk about this, ok?"

"No thanks. I want to go home."

"Barb, what's the matter?"

Her green eyes always startled him, and now that they were so close to tears, it only made them all the more intense. "You're the matter. You're different, and I don't like it. You're failing classes, ignoring my calls, doing drugs, partying too much, and lying. You're lying to me. What about Tim? What about Bruce and Alfred? Huh? I suppose that they still trust that you're telling them the truth. They'll be in for a nasty surprise this summer."

"…That's not fair."

"Then tell me I'm wrong!"

He couldn't do that. A car pulled up to the front walk and a bunch of Shawn's friends piled out, most of which were girls. Dick wondered why they had to come at this moment. He wondered if he ignored them then they'd just pass without causing anymore drama.

"DICK!" A squeal came from one of the girls. She ran up to him, completely ignoring Barbara for the time being. She and Dick had messed around a little a few weeks ago, something he wasn't too proud of.

"Hey Jenna." He managed, eyes going between Barbara and the blonde girl. "This is Barbara Gordon, Barbara, this is Jenna. She's friends with Shawn."

Jenna's face fell at this statement, and looked at Barbara, sweet enough to manage a polite hello to the other girl. "Hi, I didn't mean to interrupt. Sorry."

The others were going inside, carrying in the alcohol and mixers, and talking about how much fun this was going to be, and why nobody was here yet. Barbara had been watching them, but now looked at Jenna, pushing her hand out. "Hey, it's great to meet you. Dick and I are old friends, like brother and sister, you know?" She wanted that to be clear. "And I was just leaving."

"You don't have to go, Babs. Or, you know what, I could go with you, just let me get my jacket. I don't really feel like hanging out with a bunch of people right now. Maybe we could go talk somewhere for a little while?"

Jenna stepped away, clearly feeling awkward. She glanced towards the house in hopes that one of her friends might call out to her, but there was no such luck.

"The only place I'll go with you to talk will be your parents." Barbara replied curtly. "Which I'd be happy to do, otherwise I don't feel up to hanging out."

"Then I guess I'll just call you later."

"Fine." It wasn't fine, but Barbara wasn't going to say much more in front of Jenna. She gave a forced smile and said goodbye to the pretty blonde girl, telling her to have fun, and then walked to her car with as much confidence as she could manage.

Dick watched her go, wondering and worrying if she was going to call Alfred and tell him what was going on. A small voice took his mind off that and he glanced over to Jenna, offering a smile. "Sorry, that was probably weird for you."

"My fault for interrupting, I was trying to back out, but I guess I wasn't fast enough. Are you going to just let her go?" She hoped the answer was yes. "If you want we can go chasing after her, all romantic like."

"It not like that with us, she's just an old friend."

"So, you coming on inside, or were you serious about trying to escape the social scene in there? Because, if you want, I'll keep you company, not like that, but you know, you seem to have a lot on your mind."Jenna actually meant it 'like that' but was not about ready to admit to that. She had already gotten a hint that Dick wasn't interested in her, she just hoped she could change his mind. "We could talk."

The wind picked up a little, and the teenage boy could smell rotting food from the nearby dumpster across the way. He could hear people shouting a few houses down at the party, a fight starting. A small group of people were walking up the sidewalk, headed for his and Shawn's, coming for the party that Dick had forgotten about. He nodded hello and was surprised when Jenna seemed to know most of them. They asked if the two were coming inside, or if the party was out here.

"Better not be outside, pretty sure most of us are underage." Someone said with a smile on their face that was friendly.

"No, everyone's inside, we were just talking." Jenna instructed, and they headed on in, making enough noise to cause Shawn to open the door, having heard them.

A silence fell between the two teenagers outside, and Dick stared at the spot where Barbara had been, wondering once again if he was going to be getting an angry call from home. "I think I'm going to be in a lot of trouble," he admitted to the girl keeping him company. He was sad, but smiled despite himself. "I'm failing class, and got caught smoking a joint. I think she's planning to tell on me."

"That'd be shitty."

"Yeah, I lied to her though. I guess I'd kind of deserve it."

"I wouldn't tell on you."

The seventeen year old looked over at the blonde girl and realized that was exactly why Barbara meant so much to him. She cared enough to get him in trouble, even though she knew he would be mad, that he might not talk to her. She loved him, maybe not in a romantic way, but in a deeper way, like family.

The night dragged on, Dick having excused himself to his bedroom to try and sleep. He made sure to lock the door so nobody would bother him, and then climbed into bed, not really tired, and too thoughtful to be getting much sleep. He thought of school, of Barbara, he wondered how he was going to explain himself when the time came, what could he say to make this right? There truth certainly didn't sound good, but it wasn't like he could lie very well and get away with it. Bruce had a way of figuring things out. The billionaire would probably call of Richard's professors to hear what they had to say, so there really wasn't any hiding the truth.

Something downstairs crashed, and Dick turned over, burying his face in his pillow and thinking about laundry. Alfred would have told him to wash his sheets, and to change into some pajamas. He would lecture on the mess in the room, and the fact that Dick hadn't showered before going to sleep, all things the teen didn't especially look forward to dealing with this summer. Going home meant giving up freedom. It meant telling somebody when he went out, if he would even be able to go out at all. Knowing Bruce, there wouldn't be a very good chance of that. Not unless Dick was going to the library. Yuck.

'Oh well,' he assured himself, shutting his eyes and taking in a deep breath. 'It could always be worse.' Now it was just a matter of figuring out how to tell Alfred and Bruce the truth.

"Hiya, Alfred!" Dick found the elderly butler in the kitchen, bustling about with some bag of rice. "Bet you're pleasantly surprised to see me! It's not like I visit just anyone!"

This earned a large smile, and Alfred set down the bag, going to the sink and washing his hands. "Master Richard, pleasantly and wonderfully surprised."

That was Alfred alright. The dark haired gypsy walked over to the island in the center of the kitchen and took a seat, oddly silent, hoping that would be enough of a hint. Apparently not, because Alfred went into a speech on how 'Master' Timothy wasn't home yet, and how 'Master' Bruce was far from pleased with this. "I have not an idea what has gotten into his mind, going off without telling a soul his plans. This is the third time this month he has felt the need for secrecy, and I am not sure of his reasons."

"He isn't there when you go to pick him up from school?"

"Master Timothy has been taking the school transportation. He simply gets off at a friend's house rather than coming straight home, then has their parents drive him here, or calls to be picked up."

That was ballsy. If it had happened only once, Dick could understand, but Tim knew better than to do something he had been told not to. "Maybe it's a girl, huh?" A coy smile. "Maybe he's love struck, risking it all on the chance that she'll fall in love with him. We can hardly hold that against him. I'll explain that to Dad, he'll understand. Love blinds."

This earned a raised eyebrow. "That is quite the assumption, Master Richard."

"I believe it's the truth! I just hope we get to meet this young girl. Who would have thought it would have happened so soon?"

"You, young sir, have been missed indeed. You lighten things." Alfred suddenly said, smiling. "You should visit more often. Once school is out for the summer, and your time isn't consumed with constant studying."

"…Yeah."

"I thought I heard another voice, figured Tim had come home."

Both Alfred and Dick turned around to see Bruce standing in the doorway. He looked like he had been asleep, his hair out of place and wearing sweat pants. "Not a word as of yet," said Alfred, returning to making dinner. "Though Master Richard has a rather interesting theory on the matter."

Bruce looked at Dick, noting that the teenager wasn't making eye contact. Uh-oh. Something was up. "Has Tim spoken to you?"

"Huh? Oh! No, I was just joking that, um, that he was in love and, you know, not thinking straight." The response was shaky, and Alfred paused, turning to look at Dick, concern on his face. "You know," Dick tried to sound more confident, forcing a smile, unable to keep eye contact with his guardian. "Love makes us crazy. We're guys."

"Tim knows better either way," was the reply. Bruce folded his arms across his chest, lifting his head, looking carefully down at the seventeen year old across the room. "How are you doing?"

"I'm ok."

"You just get here?"

"Yeah."

"I saw your car outside, looks like you've been taking care of it. That's good."

Dick nodded, shrugging, swallowing. He wished he could act normal. Why wasn't he acting normal? Bruce was clearly already in a poor mood because of Tim, now wasn't exactly the best time to admit to failing this semester. Different things he could say ran through his mind, none of which were any good. "Dinner smells good, Alfred." When in doubt, change the subject. Maybe Bruce would just go away.

Alfred was quiet for a moment, and then politely smiled. He could tell something was going on because he hadn't even started to cook anything. All he had done was thus far was to get out the chicken to thaw, and find some other ingredients. "Thank you, Richard. Will you be joining us, I hope?"

"Oh, I've got a lot of studying I have to do, probably not." Oh shit, don't mention school. "I was just passing by, going to visit Babs, haven't seen her in awhile. She has a bad habit of avoiding me, plays hard to get."

"Are you two going to hang out tonight?" Bruce questioned casually, a smile.

"Yeah, at her dad's place. She wants to get dinner, so, you know, there's another reason."

Alfred suddenly excused himself, looking at Bruce as he left the room. This was strange, and hardy a good sign. Suddenly Dick felt like he was trapped and there wasn't enough air. He needed to make his getaway before too many more questions were asked. Though, before he could say something on the matter, Bruce spoke.

"That's strange, because I ran into Commissioner Gordon just the other day and he told me that Barbara was on a college trip for one of her classes. He was saying how she was gone all week. I had asked because Tim is struggling in his math course this year." A short period of silence between the two, and Bruce leaded back against a wall, arms still crossed, staring at the teenager. "Did she get back early, or are you lying to me?"

Fuck. Dick felt the dread swell up. His cheeks were getting warm. "I, uh, I was – I hadn't really." Oh fuck. He dropped his head, looking at his knees, unable to stand up, just sitting there, helpless. "I hadn't really … made plans, I guess."

"Richard." Bruce made sure his voice sounded stern. He was disappointed to discover Dick was lying to him. Tim was being rebellious, and now Dick was hiding something. It hadn't been a very good day, week, or month. The company had lost a business venture that Bruce had been pushing for over a year just two weeks ago, and he was still dealing with angry clients and cleaning up the mess. Not to mention Tim's poor grade in mathematics, and his inability to do as he was told and come straight home. It was the third time this month. Now this? Dick was a good boy, honest. What was going on? He opened his mouth to ask for the truth, but the door creaking open, cause for a distraction.

Tim stood there, head poking in, looking annoyed. "Alfred said you're mad at me, but I don't know why because I was studying with a friend. I told you I needed help with school, and I found somebody who said they could help me. If you don't believe me, you can call their home and talk to their parents. It's Mitch Hadley's parents."

Dick recognized that name, and knew that Tim had to be telling the truth. The Hadley's were honest people, and Mitch was a child genius.

"That's fine, Timothy, but that's not the issue. The issue is you not telling anyone where you are or what you're doing. This isn't the first time we've talked about it. Just a few weeks ago I told you that."

"I forgot." Tim snapped. "I'm just stressed out about school, ok? I have a test Monday and I have to do well on it to get an A."

Oh good. Dick felt his gut sink.

"You didn't just forget."

"I'm pretty sure I did." Sarcasm was not a smart move for Tim. A silence fell over the room, forcing Tim to speak next. "I'm sorry," he finally admitted, sighing. "I really didn't think. I'll apologize to Alfred, but I really am stressed out is all."

"Thank you."

"So, can I go study?"

Bruce nodded.

Before Tim shut the door he looked over to where Dick sat and nodded, acknowledging his older brother. "Hi'ya Dick."

"Hey Timmy, bet you missed me. Want me to help you study?" It was a chance for him to escape Bruce. Dick just hoped it would work.

"You can help him study after you and I finish our talk. Would you excuse us, Tim?" Bruce returned his icy stare to the boy sitting at the island counter. He waited for the sound of the door closing before continuing on with what he had been saying prior the interruption. "What is going on? I don't like being lied to."

"I'm just - I'm just really, uh, not thinking straight. I, well, I came to see what you all were doing, and I can tell that, you know, that you are sorta' stressed. I just wanted to leave, so I made something up."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, nothing bad, you know?"

"No, I don't know, because you aren't telling me anything."

This was it, Dick was going to have to tell the truth, say he was failing his classes because he had been lazy. That his GPA was going to take a bad hit, and Bruce's money was wasted. The worst part was that Bruce had said it was a bad idea for Dick to live on his own, he had said that Dick wasn't mature enough, and he had been right. "I really don't know how to tell you."

"Just tell me."

"…Ok, well, school wasn't really easy this semester, ok? I don't know how it happened, 'cause I'm really smart and stuff. You know I get good grades. But, uh, um … well, I was looking at my grades and noticed they were, well, noticed that they were bad. Finals are next week, and, um, I've been studying a ton, right? I'm going to try and get A's on the exams, but … it's just, I want you to know."

"So when we talked last month, and you told me your grades were all great – what was that? Were you lying?"

Dick cleared his throat and simply bowed his head, giving up the fight to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal. "I'm sorry." His voice was so soft that he could hardly hear it, so when Bruce told him to say that again he did so, only slightly louder.

"Look at me and talk, Richard. I can't hear you."

"I said sorry." He lifted his head to look over at Bruce, but still avoided the eyes. "I'm really sorry."

"How bad are you doing?'

"…I could not tell you and it would be a surprise?" He tried to smile, but it wasn't going to happen. "I dunno, I might pass."

"Might? You mean you're failing a class? Which one?"

Dick looked down once again and noticed that his hands were starting to shake. This was worse than he had imagined. How was he going to make it out of this alive? "All of them."

An overwhelming silence came after that declaration. Bruce was speechless and Dick was unable to make a sound out of sheer terror. He wondered what would happen if he were to just get up and run. What would happen, would Bruce try and stop him? If he was fast enough he could make it to the car and speed away, drive to the country, start a new life. Fresh. Maybe buy a few goats.

When Bruce finally spoke, his own voice was shaking. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I just, I just stopped making good choices. I was having trouble sleeping, and missed a test or two, and then realized how much that hurt my grade. I got really nervous."

"You're failing all your classes."

"I know. It's like I said, I got nervous. I didn't try as hard as I should have, and I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough."

"I don't know what I can say to make it good enough. None of it is good, and nothing I can say is going to make it sound better. It's all just stupid, I was stupid."

Bruce momentarily shut his eyes and then opened them, staring straight at the teenager. "Drinking? Drugs? I take it that has a little something to do with it?"

"No." His answer wasn't near courageous enough, he lied right through his teeth, and it was obvious. Dick lifted his head and glanced over to find Bruce approaching him. He backed up a little, surprised. "I said no." This time there was some ass behind the statement, but that wasn't enough.

The billionaire still took the boy's upper arm and pulled him to a standing position, which only made matter so much worse. It was nothing new, the difference in height between the Romanian gypsy and the billionaire, but it was always a big deal. It was just more of a confirmation that Dick wasn't related. Tim and Jason always had the height factor. They, like Bruce, had a larger build, and even had a similar skin complexion. So, when it came to Dick, who was shorter, smaller, and darker skinned, he stood out like a sore thumb. He wanted, when he was younger, so bad to be taller than Jason. He'd sometimes find himself jealous when people would comment on it. And now Tim was starting to grow faster, already coming close to the same height as Dick.

It was humiliating.

And now, here he was, forced to stand before his guardian who towered Over half a foot above him. But when Dick tried to look at the floor, he got a strong jerk.

"Look at me."

Dick looked at Bruce, scared.

"You look me in the eyes and you tell me god's honest truth. Have you been drinking?"

"…Everyone does, dad, its college."

"And have you done any drugs?"

Silence was meant with another shake. "I only smoked marijuana! I swear, nothing big, just that!" He grabbed Bruce's wrist, trying to loosen the grip on his arm that was starting to hurt rather badly. The strength was surprising, and slightly unexpected. "I'm sorry. I swear I won't ever again, I-."

"How often did you do this? Did you buy? If I go to your apartment what will I find, Richard?"

"I don't smoke too much, it's not like I can get addicted to it, you know? It's not that bad!" He kept pulling at the hand holding onto him, almost absentmindedly now. There were bigger problems at hand, like the fact that drugs were coming up in conversation. "I said I was sorry, I meant it! You're making this into a bigger deal than you need to. I wish-. He couldn't finish what he was saying his arm was released only so Bruce could grab the teenager's chin, forcing Dick's face to tilt upward.

There, Dick got to see the only real commonality the two shared, but even that was different. Bruce's steel blue eyes were raging.

"You and I are going right now to the doctors. You're getting tested. And then, once I find out the truth, we're going to your apartment and I will search your entire room. You had better pray to God that I don't find anything because if I do then you're whole life is going to change. You are moving back home tonight. You will be studying every waking moment, and to be sure you aren't in any trouble you will be going with me, every day, to the office. Then, to help pay for your classes, I'm selling your car, television, gaming systems, and anything else I decide you don't need. Are we clear? Am I being fair?"

Dick thought of the bag of weed hidden in the small cedar box on his bookstand. He didn't have to debate about whether or not he should say something on that matter. "I have a bag of weed at my place." He admitted. "But that's all."

"We'll see if that's all." Bruce growled. "You don't leave my sight, and don't go to the bathroom till you've been tested."

"Yes sir."

Getting tested was awful, but nothing near as bad as having Bruce walking into Dick's place to find Shawn and a girl making out. They both hurried to Shawn's room and stayed there. The billionaire began to go through everything then, in every room. He found the baggie Dick had mentioned and flushed it. After searching Dick's room he moved to the TV room, and then the kitchen. Dick held his breath, praying that Shawn didn't have anything hidden. All the alcohol was poured down the drain, probably close to a hundred dollars, but Dick knew better than to say a word. Bruce started to rummage through the cabinet and found something Dick honestly hadn't ever known about.

Somebody had hidden a bag of cocaine in a mug towards the back corner of the bread cabinet.

Cocaine. Not marijuana. An electric static seemed to be flickering in the room, causing the teenagers hair to stand up on his arms, and goose bumps to rise. He could see everything Bruce was thinking with just a glance, and that was more than enough to make him panic. There was no way he could get Bruce to believe he was telling the truth at this point, but nevertheless, he tried.

"That's not mine."

Bruce dumped it in the kitchen sink and turned on the water, letting it go down the drain in silence. He finished the rest of his search, finding another bag in another cup, and a bottle of xanies. They both followed the rest of the illegal items in the sink. Bruce was seeing red at this point, unable to believe that Dick was as clueless as he said he was. So, when the teenager tried to argue his innocence further, the billionaire decided he had heard enough. "Stop lying to me." His hands were placed on the counter, as he stood over the sink.

Dick didn't seem able to stop. He continued to swear his innocence.

It seemed like so long that he stood there, his eyes shut, trying to drown out Dick's long string of words. He just was trying to calm down, to take ten seconds to think, to run through a list of options on what to do.

"Not my stuff…"

Why had Dick lied to him? Why was he doing drugs? Cocaine, marijuana, and xanax, who knew what else the teenager had done? How was it that Dick seemed so oblivious? Did he not realize that this sort of thing could ruin his future? That it could kill him? It was hard to stop thinking of the various people who would and could be affected by this stupid lifestyle choice. What if it had come home with Richard in the summer? What if Tim had gotten into it? What if the media got a hold of this information, and took Tim away and locked Dick up? What if Dick was dealing? What if it went beyond just curiosity and was an addiction?

What about Jason?

"You keep acting like this is a huge deal when it's really not."

"I said quiet." Bruce's voice was hardly above a whisper.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing." Dick took a step closer. "It's nothing."

In that moment, Bruce saw Dick sharing the same fate as Jason: Dead because he wouldn't listen to sense. He would die because he was stupid, and because Bruce had been too easy on him. Spoiled by money, sheltered out of love – and dead because of it.

Bruce could feel Dick take a step closer, still arguing his case, and without much of a second thought the billionaire ended whatever was being said. He lifted his hand just below his chin, curling in into a fist, and then with a strong thrust, sent it flying right into the teenager's jaw. The feel of his fist striking Dick was something horrible, but what was worse was watching the young adult being struck.

Dick's jaw popped as he stumbled back into the wall. He made a noise of pain and pushed his hands to his face, but as soon as his fingers brushed his jaw he gasped, feeling the tears from pain start up. He fought them so hard, trying to hold them back, but a few escaped, so he simply shut his eyes and sunk to the floor, refusing to look at anyone, especially Bruce.

"Hi?" Shawn's voice came from the left of the room. He had heard the commotion and decided to intervene. To his surprise, and concern, he saw his roommate on the floor … crying?

"Your parents will be informed of all the drugs I have found, Mr. Jacobs. If I were you I would start thinking of a very good apology." Bruce's threat hit home and sent Shawn back upstairs. Not even Dick's current predicament could hold the college student back from fleeing. "Richard, stand up."

Dick trembled, unwilling to do what he was told. Now he was mad. When he felt Bruce pull him to his feet, he fought back, getting out of the grip and backing away. He couldn't talk, it hurt too much. He just walked out of the house and to the car, getting in the passenger side and slamming the door shut. Bruce followed him, starting up the vehicle and taking them to Leslie's. He told the doctor what happened and she treated Dick, saying the jaw wasn't broken, but it had been badly hurt. She was clearly not happy with Bruce.

On the way home nothing was said. Dick had taken some pills for pain, and he could feel them starting to work. They arrive and both walked on inside, Dick trailing behind.

Tim was there, asking what had happened, only to be told to go to his room and that Bruce would talk with him about it later. Alfred had said nothing, showing no sign that he supported either party. Clearly someone had told him about the situation, probably Leslie. It had to be. Bruce didn't tell the butler to go, he had no leverage there. "Richard." He said, looking at the boy, eyes narrow. "You're grounded. Go to your room. I want you up at five thirty, you'll be accompanying me to work, bring your school books."

He wanted to say something, but there was nothing to be said. He was hurt that Bruce didn't trust him, and embarrassed by the whole event. When he thought about it he saw he deserved most of what he got, but still – why was Bruce so cruel even now? He had hit Dick without even an apology. If there was one thing he wanted, it was to know that this was going to pass, that they'd all be ok in a few weeks or months, that he would be forgiven.

Bruce saw the boy wasn't moving, so he started forward to make him go to his room. Dick backed away, startled, almost tripping as he turned, then hurried up the stairs before anything else was done. He passed Tim's room on his way and saw the thirteen year old peering out at him, confused. "Dick?" He whispered. "You ok?"

Dick just walked on his way, unable to answer, and not wanting to either way. He got to his room and shut the door behind him, looking around, feeling his head pounding from a horrid headache. Everything was just how he had left it when he moved out, not a thing out of place. He heard someone coming down the hall, and the teen hurried to his bathroom, shutting himself in to hide. Relief came when he heard Bruce and Tim talking, and that relief turned to shame.

He sat down on the edge of the bathroom counter and looked into the mirror hanging on the wall. His appearance was pitiful. His face was bruised and swollen.

The time crept by, and he continued to stare at the reflection in a trance. It wasn't till he heard his bedroom door open that he snapped out of it. Frozen, he waited till there was a knock on the bathroom door. At first he was silent, but the knock came again, this time more strong, so Dick walked over and opened the door finding Bruce looking down at him.

"You should be in bed, those pain pills are going to kick in." The billionaire's voice was still gruff, but it was clear he had cooled down a little. "What are you doing in here?"

Dick shook his head.

"Come on, it's been a long day, you need to sleep." Bruce gently put a hand on the boy's shoulder and led him out of the bathroom. He was quiet for a moment, but then cleared his throat. "You know, I've been bragging about you for years. I'm always telling people how smart you are. I tell them how you're a good kid, and that you're always making me proud. Today though, Richard, today I can't say any of that anymore. You made horribly stupid choices, lied, engaged in illegal activities, failed out of school, and who knows what else. … I hope there's nothing else." He sighed, honestly tired. "I'm not proud of what you have done, in fact I'm ashamed and appalled. I had to tell Timothy that you were doing drugs, and that wasn't easy for me. I had to tell him his big brother had failed out of school. He hardly could believe me, probably because he didn't want to."

Dick felt himself tearing up again, this time it wasn't because of the pain. It was probably those stupid pain pills, making him not think right.

"He asked me if I hit you. I told him that I did. I'm not proud of that, I lost my control and let my anger get the best of me. I was wrong, and I apologize. I hope that you'll forgive me."

There was nothing Dick wanted to say to that. That whole ordeal would be better off forgotten. He just kept staring at the carpeted floor.

"Listen, you've messed things up and lost a lot of people's trust, mainly my own. I just hope that these next few months you do everything you can to earn that back. If I ever catch you drinking or doing any drugs in the future, I will send you away to a hospital till you're clean. This is your warning. I won't let that sort of thing in this house, and I won't allow you to have the very lifestyle that killed Jason. This is your only warning. Now, get some sleep." He started for the door.

"'ad." Dick managed weakly. It hurt to talk even now. He watched Bruce turn to look at him, disappointment clear. . "'Ahree."

"I know you're sorry." Bruce said, a bit hesitant. He had come up here to apologize, and had even expected one in return, but now that it was presented, he almost wanted to make Dick feel more guilty. But, that wouldn't be fair to anyone. "I am too."

The gypsy started to nod, shaking a little. He couldn't help it, he walked over to his guardian and wrapped his arms around him in a hug, burying his head in the man's chest, knowing that he was being childish, but he didn't care. He wanted to know that he was still loved. That they weren't going to stop loving him. To his relief the hug was returned. Even if it was awkward, tense, and short lived as the billionaire pushed him away after a second.

"I know you're a good boy, and I know you're capable to making good choices." Bruce murmured softly. "Promise me that you'll make this wrong into a right, no more lies."

Dick nodded.

"Then prove it. I'll see you in the morning, chum."

END