Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Shucks.

NOTE: Some of my reviewers notified me, and informed me that my note on my previous story in this series was overdoing it. I'm sorry if that got annoying, but everyone I read this to expressed doubts about where the story was going, and if it was going in that direction. I am a big fan of Lord of the Ring fanfic, where that sort of stuff happens often. I guess I've just gotten to the point where I feel I need to express that fact very strongly, so everyone knows for sure that's not where I'm heading. I apologize for that over-ambitious warning! And with that, I give you my second story in what I've named the 'Young Bat' series:

To Skin a Bat

By RRP

"And this is my ward, Richard Greyson." Bruce smiled, introducing Dick to what seemed to be the hundredth person that night. The lady, some senator's wife or something, said hello with polite kindness. Bruce glared after her as she commented to her husband, just loud enough for them to hear,

"Imagine! A child living in a place like this. What a bother! I'd send him off to boarding school." At that comment, Dick lowered his eyes and frowned at the floor. Bruce caught his chin with two long, able fingers.

"Hey, Dick. She was just being rude. I don't think like that, right?" Dick brightened almost instantly, and nodded at Bruce with a wide grin.

"Dear me! Don't tell me Bruce Wayne has hired a child as a butler?" A female voice asked jestingly, the owner of the voice coming into view. Bruce looked up quickly to see Selina Kyle walking towards them, with a cat-like smile. She bent down next to Dick, and looked at him eye-level. "Goodness, Alfred! What did he do to you?" Dick's hand flew up to his mouth to keep from giggling out loud.

"Ahem." The refined, English voice broke in from behind them. Selina rose, and turned around with a gracious nod of her head.

"Alfred." She acknowledged politely. A grin threatened to consume the butler's face.

"Miss Kyle. How nice of you to come. Can I get you anything?"

"Oh, not now, Alfred. I was going to talk to Bruce for a minute before lingering amongst the people. It's not often one gets to make fools of the high and mighty. I take every chance I get." Selina gave another one of her cat-smiles, and turned back to face Bruce. "So, really, who is this little warrior you've acquired?"

"My ward, Richard Greyson." Bruce replied, ruffling Dick's hair fondly. "More commonly known as Dick."

"Nice to meet you, Dick. It hardly seems proper for me not to have a gift. Maybe, a certain person wouldn't mind if I sent a small kitten over?" Selena offered, shaking his hand seriously. Dick looked up at Bruce hopefully. Bruce sighed, and nodded compliance.

"Alright. But if Alfred skins me alive, I blame both of you."

"Skin you? Why not skin the cat?" Selena joked, showing a rare willingness to joke about killing cats.

"Or skin the bat." Dick muttered under his breath. Bruce looked at him sharply, and Selena laughed.

"What was that?" Dick looked panicked, and quickly covered.

"I..I said poor skinned cat." He stammered. Selena laughed again, and Bruce sighed again, this time in relief.

"Well, Bruce, I simply must go and tease someone. If I'm kicked out before midnight, I'm going to have to accuse you of serving bad wine." Bruce smiled after her, and Dick pulled on his tie uncomfortably.

"I hate suits." He whispered to Bruce, trailing after him as Bruce started walking towards a familiar figure.

"So do I." He whispered back. "Commissioner Gordon!" He greeted the man cheerfully, shaking the older man's hand.

"Bruce! Good to see you. Is this Dick? My, he's getting big." Gordon returned the handshake heartily. "Barbara told me to say hello to you two for her."

"She was welcome to come." Bruce replied, raising an eyebrow.

"She would have, but she went on a trip to Mexico with Montoya's family." Gordon explained, smiling with his eyes, through his thick glasses.

"In that case, tell her I return the hello." Bruce motioned to Alfred while talking, and the man started making his way through the crowd.

"Me too!" Dick piped up. Alfred reached his Master's side, and gave a slight bow to Bruce and Gordon.

"Sir?"

"Alfred, take Dick to bed. It's getting rather late." Bruce gave the boy a gentle push, and winked at Alfred. Alfred smiled gently, and ushered the boy out of the ball room amidst moans and protests.

"But, Alfred! I'm not tired! Tell Bruce to let me stay! Please?" Dick gave up with a reluctant sigh as they exited the room.

"He seems to be adjusting well." Gordon commented, sipping a glass of white wine.

"He is." Bruce agreed, picking up a wine of his own from a nearby table.

Hours past before Bruce looked at a clock, and when he did, he noted the time and quietly excused himself from the group he had been talking with, much to the astonishment of the guests. He made his way out of the room, and after exiting in a calm and gentlemanly fashion, quickened his pace as he hurried to his room.

Once inside, he threw the expensive Armani suit on the bed haphazardly, and exchanged it for loose jeans and a rugby striped polo shirt. He hastened towards Dick's room in complete silence, not turning on a single light to guide him through the dark halls. He entered the boy's room, and tiptoed stealthily across the threshold.

"Dick. Dick, come on. Wake up." Bruce shook his young ward into wakefulness.

"Wha? Bruce?" Dick slurred, rubbing his eyes.

"Did you forget our game? I promised I'd play first full moon." Bruce replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "That's why I sent you to bed early."

"Oh. Yeah, I remembered. I just didn't think you had with the party and everything." Dick answered bashfully, dodging Bruce's eyes.

"You thought I'd forget?" Bruce questioned gently. Dick nodded. "I didn't, did I?" Dick shook his head.

"You're...You're not mad at me for not believing you?" He asked fearfully.

"No. Not this time. We're still learning to trust each other. It takes a while, Dick. I can't promise it'll be easy, but I can promise that we will make it. Meanwhile, the moon and field and ball await." Bruce stood up and rummaged through Dick's dresser. He tossed an older shirt, and a faded pair of jeans onto the bed. "Come on, before Alfred guesses where I am."

"Alright!" Dick bounced out of bed with a gleeful laugh, clamping his hand over his mouth only seconds later. "Sorry." He mumbled, still grinning, as he pulled the clothes on. Within seconds, the duo was creeping down the hall, and out the back door onto the wide acreage of landscape. The dimly lit balcony above the field carried muted sounds of the party out to their ears, and Bruce led Dick several yards from the balcony railing.

Once he decided they were far enough away not to be heard, he stopped, and turned to Dick.

"Okay, past those two trees is a touchdown for you, past those rocks is a touchdown for me. Tag football, two hands. No other rules." Bruce whispered, pointing as he spoke. Dick nodded, barely suppressing a squeal of nine-year-old joy. How many other kids got to play football in the moonlight, with an adult, no less? He held up the football he had snagged on their way out, and offered it to Bruce.

"You wanna start?"

"No, you can." Bruce smiled at him, squatting down at an imaginary fifty-yard line, as Dick prepared to start the game by tossing the ball in the air, and catching it as if it had been thrown in to him.

Minutes passed, and their yells grew louder and louder, as the game picked up pace. Slipping and sliding over dewy grass made it even harder than usual to stay afoot. Thuds and moans followed shouts, and shouts and cheers followed moans and thuds. Dick's high laughter rang clear above the other sounds, as he scored touchdown after touchdown. Bruce had a hard time catching the slippery little fellow, well trained in acrobatics, and fast as lightening. Every time he thought he had him, Dick would pull a flip or a roll, only to slide off-balance on the grass as soon as he landed, and vice-versa.

Meanwhile, back inside, Alfred scanned the crowd with a growing sense of...something. He couldn't quite place it. It wasn't fear, yet it wasn't anger. Perhaps anxiety. Either way, he couldn't find Bruce, and no one seemed to know what had happened to him.

"Please, if I may have your attention?" A tall man with young features tapped against the side of a champagne glass. Heads turned, and the man nodded, satisfied with the full attention of the room. "As all of you here should know, Bruce Wayne has given this ball to raise money for the Gotham Displaced Children's Association, commonly known as the GDCA. We at GDCA are very proud to have Mr. Wayne as our biggest sponsor! Donations can be made out simply to GDCA, and dropped through the hole in the rainbow sculpture next to the wine table. And now, a word from Mr. Wayne himself!"

Alfred froze, and people leaned forward expectantly. The man looked around nervously, and repeated the words.

"And now, a word from Mr. Wayne himself..." Heads began to turn, and a murmur of confusion filled the room.

"Shh...What's that?" Someone called out loudly, causing everyone to freeze and stay silent once again. Ears strained forward, and within a few short seconds, it was confirmed. Shouts were coming from outside the Manor, right below the balcony.

The man strode forward, pushing his way through the crowd, and flung open the balcony doors. He hastened to the railing, and stopped. The crowd moved silently forward, encased in a veil of anxiety. The balcony railing was soon blanketed in a line of people, leaning forward to watch the two silhouetted figures with curiosity.

The shouts continued, the figures not noticing anything amiss, and Alfred's jaw was clenched shut in a firm line. He had tolerated enough. It was time to kill.

"Master Bruce, if you please!" He shouted from a prominent spot on the balcony. Bruce's head snapped up, and Dick froze. Bruce eyed the people on the balcony, and decided there was only one thing to do- play innocent.

"Good evening, Alfred! Care to join us in our late-night game of football?"

"No, sir." Alfred replied with a firm shake of his head. "Please, come, clean yourself up. And Master Richard! I believe I put you to bed hours ago!" Bruce ignored him, and waved to the gathering crowd.

"It's all my fault. I promised Dick I'd play a midnight game, next full moon, about two weeks ago. I couldn't very well break my promise, especially on a night honoring children, could I?"

While some heads nodded eagerly, some were slightly reluctant. Three voices broke the silence- Selena began laughing, the man who had given the speech only moments before began cheering, and Gordon shouted enthusiastically.

"Can I join you?" Bruce looked to Dick.

"Do you mind?" Dick looked from the ball, to Gordon, and back.

"Nah."

"Come on, Commissioner! Alfred, please, show him to the back door."

"I'm coming, Bruce!" Selena chimed in. Several male voices added the affirmative.

"It's been a while since I've played."

"This should be fun."

"I can't wait to see tomorrow's papers."

"Oh, curse this suit! I've never liked it anyway."

"It is a children's fund, darling. I promise I'll try not to get too dirty."

"Why not?"

"Let's pick teams, and bet on sides! All money goes to the GDCA!"

"I second that!"

Shuffling, scuffling, and a lot of noise took place while sides were chosen, the men completing forgetting the expensive suits and fancy attire. Alfred was sent out to reluctantly retrieve strips of cloth, in two colors, to tie around the arms of the team members. Even the ladies still atop the balcony were beginning to enjoy themselves, watching the men scramble around beneath their feet. Selena had insisted she be allowed to play, and Bruce had finally obliged.

"Okay, Blue is ready!"

"Red, too!"

Dick squeezed onto the front line next to a stranger, and grinned wickedly at Bruce. He was determined to play against his mentor, and he was determined to win.

"Hey, kid. It's time to get off the field now. You don't want to get hurt." A man said, pushing Dick, not too-gently, towards the 'sidelines'. Dick's face fell, and he dared not look at Bruce, for fear that he would be hurt. Why would Bruce call him back, when he now had people his own size to play with?

He trudged off the field, not turning around. Silence was behind him, and ahead of him. Then, the snap of a bone, and a scream, cracked the silence. Dick whirled around to see the man who had pushed him off the field on the ground, clutching his nose, and Bruce standing over him, fists shaking with barely contained rage.

"Don't ever talk to my boy that way again." Bruce turned, strode over to Dick, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Without even turning, he ground out,

"The game is off."

Bruce left Alfred to handle the astounded guests and the angry yet humble man, as he led Dick back inside and down one of the halls not used for entertaining. Nothing was said for several minutes, before Dick was brave enough to break the silence.

"You didn't have to hit him, you know. I would have been okay." Bruce stopped, and knelt down next to the boy, so he was eye-level with him.

"You're right. I didn't have to hit him. But you wouldn't have been okay, you would have been hurt. And I don't want that to happen to you, Dick. You've already been hurt enough." Bruce said firmly. Dick's eyes filled with tears, and he through his arms around Bruce's neck. Bruce blinked in surprise, and awkwardly leaned out of the hug. It wasn't more than a few seconds before he was fiercely returning it.

"I love you, Bruce." Dick whispered, the words muffled in Bruce's polo.

"I love you too, Dick." Bruce replied, his voice raspy, unaccustomed to the emotion and the words.

"Bruce, one thing."

"What kiddo?"

"Can you let me go now? I need to breathe." Bruce released him immediately, and Dick stood, taking big gulps of air with a wide grin.

"You hug good."

"That's 'hug well', Young Master Richard. Now, please, both of you go change into clean clothes, pajamas on your part Master Richard." Alfred stood at the end of the hall, fighting back a smile.

"Yes, Alfred." Dick's face dropped, and he trudged off towards his bedroom. Bruce stood, and began to follow him, when Alfred called out.

"Before you go, Master Bruce, someone wants to speak with you." Bruce turned with a frown of confusion. Selena stepped out from behind Alfred.

"Hey, Bruce."

"I'll leave you alone to converse. I trust you can find your way back to the ball room, Miss Kyle?" Alfred asked with a polite bow of his head.

"Of course, Alfred." Selina nodded.

"Very well." Alfred retraced his steps back to the party room, and Selena walked towards Bruce. He shifted uncomfortably on one foot.

"You know Alfred's going to chew me out for that stunt back there. So if that's what this is about, I'm already beyond dead." Bruce commented, as she neared him.

"Actually, I thought that was rather admirable." Selina said with a grin. "He looks up to you, you know. And I don't think I've ever seen you as happy as you were then, playing with just him out below the balcony."

"He lights up my life." Bruce admitted, nodding solemnly. "He's like a son."

"Like a son?" Selena laughed. "Brucie, honey. Drop the formalities. He is a son, and you both know it." She turned and walked back the way she and Alfred had come. "Call me, sometime." She yelled back over her shoulder. Bruce waved absentmindedly, and began walking back to his room to change.

"He is a son." He repeated confusedly, a grin forming on his face. He repeated it with more enthusiasm. "He is a son."

Dick flew around the corner, and leapt into Bruce's arms.

"You stayed to listen? You little sneak!" Bruce exclaimed, laughing despite himself. Dick's next statement caught him off-guard.

"And you're a great Dad." He almost dropped the boy, and his mouth hung open in a little 'o'. Dick sighed, as he realized he would have to carry on the conversation. He leaned close, and whispered. "You're supposed to say thank you."

"Thank...thank you." Bruce finally said, recovering his ability to speak. He ruffled the boy's hair. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I know. That's why I said it." Dick replied mischievously.

"Oh, really? What about the football game? Doesn't that count for something?" Bruce added, laughing again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. It felt good. Very good.

"Well, yeah."

"Speaking of football, don't you think we should go change, before Alfred skins us alive?" Bruce suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. Skins us like a couple of bats."