Authors Note: Oops, Jason's dad's name is Willis – not Stephen! I don't know where I got Stephen from. Hmm. My Batman knowledge is faltering!

"I close my eyes when it gets to sad, I think thoughts that I know that are bad. Close my eyes and I count to ten, hope it's over when I open them. I want the things that I had before, like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door. I wish I could count to ten – make everything be wonderful again. I close my eyes when I go to bed at night, dream of adventures that can make me smile. I feel better when I hear you say that everything is wonderful now. I go to school and run and play. I tell the kids that it's all ok. I have to laugh so my friends won't know that when the bell rings that I don't wanna go. Home to my room, where I close my eyes. I make believe that I have a new life. I do believe you when you say that everything'll be wonderful some day."

Wonderful Everclear

You Do Good, You Find Good

By: The BatThing

Chapter Four:

The constant and drilling buzzing seemed to echo inside Dick's head as he drifted out of sleep. Reality sunk in, and the teenage boy gave a hefty groan for what it was worth. Morning wasn't his thing.

Rolling out of bed, Dick hit the alarm, more than thankful to hear its siren stop. And then, without any more time to waste, he made his way into the bathroom – ready to fall into his usual morning routine. Shower, breakfast, teeth, and then school – it was a pattern he was growing tired of, school sucked.

The shower woke him up, got him thinking and going, and a in a bit more pleasant of mood. He made his way back into his room and was a bit surprised to find Jason sprawled across his bed, half in the covers, and half out of them. "Did you sleep in here?"

Jason slowly stirred, turning a bit at the sound of his older brother's voice. "Mmm."

"What the hell?" Dick started to get into his school clothes, all the while, glaring a bit at Jason. He wasn't so much mad as confused. It was more than a little random that Jason spent the night in his room. This was Jason, the big bad Jason. The last time the two of them had slept together was when Dick had heard a scary story from Lee Gilliom at school. He told it to Jason, and the two could barely sleep that night. That was about five years ago now. "W-what are you doing in, in here?"

Jason ignored the question, unwilling to move from his comfortable position on the bed.

Dick stumbled a bit as he pulled his shirt over his head. "What's wrong? Bad dream? Nightmare?"

"No, you asked me to sleep in here." Jason muttered into the pillows. "You came in tears."

There was a moment of silence, and then Dick scoffed. "Yeah right, you came in my room last night and started talking to me."

"That's 'cause you fell out of the bed and woke me up."

"I didn't fall out of the bed."

"Yeah you did."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah you did."

"Go to your own room, smart-ass." Dick growled as he collected his books and shoved them into his backpack. "You're gonna' be late for school if you don't get up soon anyhow. It's almost seven twenty, you do realize?"

Jason didn't make any movement to get out of bed. Rather he laid perfectly still, more then willing to fall back asleep. Seeing this, Dick smirked and moved towards his computer. He silently scrolled through his music, figuring that if Jason didn't want to get up – fine. So long as Dick could play his music.

"Wicki-wild-wild, wicki-wicki-wild, wicki-wild."

Jason sat up with a start at the sound of the music coming in through the speakers. He took in a deep breath of surprise, recognizing the tune with great ease. He knew that song.

"Wicki-wicki-wild-wild-west. Jim West, desperado, rough rider, no you don't want nada, none of this, six-gunnin' this, brother runnin' this buffalo soldier, look it's like I told ya."

Dick nodded as Jason glared at him, but rather than bow to his younger brother's wishes, he only furthered the annoyance by singing along with the music. "Any damsel that's in distress be outta' that dress when she meet Jim West. Rough neck, so go check the law and abide, watch your step or flex and get a hole in your side. Swallow your pride. Don't let your lip react. You don't wanna' see my hand where my hip be at. With Artemis, from the start of this, runnin the game. James West, tamin' the West, so remember the name!"

Jason threw a pillow in his older brother's direction. "STOP IT!"

"Now who you gonna' call? Not the G.B's. Now who you gonna' call? J Dub and A.G."

"You realize that if your 'friends' at school knew about your bad habit of memorizing all of the old Will Smith songs, that you'd have no friends. They'd laugh at you." Jason pushed away the covers, putting his hands to his ears as he moved for the door.

"Now, now, now, now once upon a time in the west, mad man lost his damn mind in the West. Loveless, kidnap a dime, nuttin' less. Now I must, put his behind to the test." Dick laughed as he watched the door slam, smiling more to himself then anything. He lifted his hand, forming his fingers into the shape of a gun, and blew the imaginary smoke away, not feeling the least bit dumb. "Then through the shadows, in the saddle, ready for battle. Bring all your boys in, here come the poison. Behind my back, all that riffin' ya' did - front and center, NOW WHERE YOUR LIP AT KID?"

"SHUT UP!" Jason yelled from his own room.

Dick just laughed as he continued to prepare for school.

It was impossible not to space out at a time like this. After all, it was the last class of the day, so who could really hold it against him? In all fairness, it was perfectly understandable … well, at least to him it was. Jason Todd faded in and out of listening to what his teacher was saying, giving the occasional nod of agreement, or smile to show he was – in fact – still paying perfectly good attention.

Haha. Suckers.

Who cared about the imperfect Spanish endings? Aba, Abas, Abunchofshit. Jason glanced over to see if he was the only one finding this completely irrelevant, and completely a waste of time.

Ok, so maybe he was.

But, in all fairness, this was the class of the smart kids. It was like, the kids that almost made it into Advanced Placement.

"Troubles paying attention, Mr. Todd?"

Jason froze as all the kids he had been staring at turned to look at him curiously. Oh great, the one moment he looked away 'Senor' Ortega caught him. The teenager slowly turned, smiling at his teacher. "Just a little."

"Then you might discover you'll have troubles completing the test next week." Mr. Ortega responded. He didn't like the smart-ass teenager. Even if he was Dick Grayson's brother, even it he was Bruce Wayne's kid – it was long past mattering. Jason was, in short - a prick. "Is there something we can do to get and keep your attention, Mr. Todd?"

"Yeah – if you let class out early, Senor Ortega."

A few kids chuckled, but the others gave looks of worry. They were use to this sort of behavior from Jason, and knew perfectly well that his stupidity would put their teacher in a foul mood for the rest of the class. Sure, Jason was humorous, but there were lines, and Jason crossed them without a care.

"You know what, I'm feeling generous, Mr. Todd." The man answered.

Jason sat up a bit more, surprised to hear this. His eyes got a bit wider at the words, unable to believe what he was hearing! "You are?"

"I am. I am. I'm feeling so generous that I'm going to write you a pass out of class. Don't you think I'm generous?" The man started to write something down on a sheet of paper, smiling as he did so. "Hmm? Mr. Todd?"

"That depends. Does this pass, by chance, send me to the office?" Jason put his chin in his hands, smirking up at the teacher. He felt a bit foolish to have thought that he was going to get out of class that easily. "'Cause if it does, then I'm going to have to go with 'not so much', concerning your generosity today -- Sir."

The teacher handed the boy the pass with a glare. "Maybe another day then, hmm? I'm sure I'll see you next week, Mr. Todd. Have a good weekend."

Jason drew up his backpack and took the pass. "Doubt it."

Tim pulled away from Shane Kent, glaring as his classmate patronized him as usual. If he could get up the courage to tell the bully off, he would. But Tim didn't have the guts to say anything. The thought of talking seemed impossible at the moment. It seemed far, far away. All the eight-year-old could do was make sure to keep his distance from the group of boys that were laughing at him.

"Come on, Tim, I'll give you my Snake Guts playing cards if you let us write it on your arm, please!" Devin held the sharpie. "It'll be funny, everyone will laugh. You'll see."

Tim shook his head, holding his arms close to his body. He looked around the playground and wished like anything that recess were over so he could go back in the classroom. At least there the teacher would be there to protect him, seeing as he couldn't do it himself.

If only he could be home.

"You're eight, right?" Shane questioned as he bounced up and down in a rhythmic manner. "So, why can't you read? My sister's eight, and she can read. I'm six, and I know how to spell a bunch of words. What can you spell? … Hey, do you still wet the bed?"

The group of boys snickered at the question.

Tim simply shook his head, blushing at the suggestion. He felt his insides shrink at the thought. In all truth, he hadn't wet the bed in over a month. So that was good enough – right? Well, it didn't matter – just so long as Shane and Devin didn't think he still wet the bed, he was good.

"If you let us write on your arm, then we'll give you some cookies or something, ok? Come on Tim, it'll be funny! I bet Anna-Marie would think it's cool." Shane pointed to a piggy-tailed brunette swinging. "I bet she might talk to you."

"Y-you write d-d-dumb things." Tim managed, clutching his arm close.

"No we don't – we write funny things." Devin defended.

Tim felt something in him soar. He could prove that he could read by showing that he knew what they wrote on him the last time. That would show them! Maybe they'd leave him alone? "Then why'd you write Christmas last time?!"

There was a collective pause, and then the boys started to laugh.

"Christmas? We didn't write Christmas!"

"Y-yes you did. On my tummy." Tim felt himself turning red. "I read it, even though it was upside down, I read it."

"He doesn't know what we wrote." Shane said loudly to his friends, smiling. "He's a dummy."

Tim went a bit redder at these words.

"We wrote retard on your tummy. R-E-T-A-R-D. Do you know what a retard is?" Devin asked. "It's someone who is eight and can't pass the first grade! I heard you took kindergarten twice too."

Tim balled up his fist, deciding that he'd had enough. More and more people were watching now. Jason had taught him how to punch, so why shouldn't he defend himself? Stupid Shane, stupid Devin. The boy drew back his arm and then hit Devin right in the face. Perhaps it wasn't exactly how Jason had shown him how to do it, but it worked.

Devin fell to the ground, landing on his butt, looking about ready to cry.

And he did cry.

Shane watched in silence, confused at what to do now. He stared at his friend on the ground, and then slowly at Tim. "You're gonna' get in trouble with the teacher."

"TIMOTHY!" Mrs. Barnes was running towards the three boys, pushing past the children who stood watching. "What happened? Did you hit Devin?"

"He huh-h-hit me!" Devin sobbed, holding a hand over his cheek where his skin was red and splotchy. "He hit me!"

The teacher helped the six-year to his feet with a look of confusion in Tim's direction. The boy never did much of anything besides look lost, and this sort of behavior was out of the blue. "Why did you hit Devin, Timmy?"

Tim said nothing, his head bowed as he stared at his feet.

"Well, let's get you to the nurse's, come on. Timmy, you come too, dear." Mrs. Barnes escorted a limping Devin back towards the school building, and Tim trailed behind, bright red from everyone watching him.

Dick Grayson was more than happy to flop down on the overstuffed that afternoon. School had been nothing special, another day – replica to all the others. Nothing interesting happened, nothing awesome. So when Alfred asked, he told him. "Nothing."

"Not a thing?" Alfred questioned, with a doubtful tone in his voice. He didn't smile, but there was something about the way he spoke that made it obvious he found the response amusing. The butler had driven the three home from school, and like usual, he didn't get much information from them. Though, today there was a good reason for silence. Jason had gotten in trouble at school, and Tim had thrown a punch and blamed Jason for showing him how. "How very depressing a life you live."

The teenager just sighed, dropping his head a bit and looking at the elder gentleman. He gave a small smile and nodded in agreement. "How 'bout you?"

Jason fell gracefully onto the couch with a groan, placing hand to his head. "My day sucked."

"I meant Alfred, not you."

"It was fine, Master Richard, I got all the work done I wanted to, a good day." The butler started for the kitchen, considering telling Jason he should probably start his homework, but refrained from doing so. After all, the teenager had truly had his fill of stress that day. Alfred could understand that, so he cut some slack.

Tim didn't bother to take a seat. He watched as Alfred walked out of the room and held his breath. It was only a matter of time till Jason let him have it. After all, Tim had blamed him. He knew his older brother well enough to know he should tread lightly for a few hours till it was forgotten enough. He lingered for a few moments, then gave a little hop and dashed for the stairs, deciding to go change clothes and just go outside.

It was more fun outside.

Dick and Jason didn't bother to lift their heads at the sudden movement Tim made. They remained slouched in an unattractive manner and didn't think anything of it. For a few moments there was only silence as they faded out of their school mode.

"So what'dya do to the teacher?" Dick finally questioned, turning his head just barely to look at Jason. "You told Alfred you just talked back, but figures that's not all you did."

"It is all I did."

Dick just stared.

Jason stared right back.

"Well, I'm sure I'll hear the whole story in a few days."

"I don't care." Jason gave a lazy yawn and rolled over, showing Dick his back. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Why? You wanna' hang out? Is that it?" Dick gave a small laugh, finding himself funny. He was quick to fall silent though. "Chances are you'll be at home doing nothing, am I right?"

Jason grunted, trying to shrug his shoulders but didn't manage. He rolled right back to his original position so he could better look at Dick. With a shake of his head he made a face. "I need someone to take me to Crime Alley – figured I'd catch up with some ol'friends or something."

"Or something." Dick said. "Dad doesn't like you going there as is, and you already went just a few weeks ago. Who you meeting this time?"

It was hard not to get upset at what Dick was saying. There was some truth to it, but it wasn't like Bruce had said no already. Why get mad when he didn't know the answer. … Because he was Jason, that's why. True, he wasn't going to visit any 'old friends', but he had made a deal with Eric Williams that'd he'd get him some stuff before next weekend, and if he did it meant more money. Not that Jason was poor, but hey – it was more money! The teenager knew just how important that was. "Bruce can't stop me from going to visit my old home."

"I think 'Bruce' can." Dick mocked. "What do you care anyhow? I thought you said you didn't like to visit? You said you only went because you felt obligated. Just tell them that you can't go, they can't get mad at you for that. It's not like you won't go, you can't!"

Jason thought about it for a little while as Dick flipped on the television. He clicked his fingers together and gave a little grin at his brother. "How much you want?"

"What?"

"Come on, Dick, just consider it! Let's say you go hang out with your friends this weekend, ok? Say you take me along with you, like a nice brother would, ok? And, well, we can tell Dad that it's just us two hanging out. You can drop me off at the Alley and then go hang with your friends. I don't care how long I have to wait, I won't complain." Jason leaned forward on the edge of his chair with a smile. "Come on, please."

"Hm-um." Dick refused.

"Twenty dollars, Dick!"

The teenager glanced away from the television, slightly interested in the offer now. "Why would you pay to go to the Alley? And why would you pay that much to go? What's happening this weekend down there? An old girlfriend call you?"

Jason glared at the comment. "No."

"Then what?"

"None of your business is what." Jason sighed, sitting up and facing Dick. "Come on, Dick – I don't bother you when you hang out with your friends. I don't ask questions. Dad can be … really weird … about me hanging out with my old friends. I don't blame him or anything, but they're still my friends."

It took a lot for Dick not to roll his eyes. "I don't buy that. You said you don't like going to Crime Alley, so what's so important now?"

Giving it a moment to think on, Jason slowly shook his head. "It's like this. Dad can be really … well, peculiar about it, right? So when I tell him that I don't like to go then he doesn't mind me going as much. You know how it is, he thinks I'm doing it out of the goodness of my heart."

"And you don't have a heart."

Jason glared.

Dick gave a smile. "Fine, even if I don't believe you, I'll take your twenty. You get to tell Dad though."

"BUT!" Jason lowered his voice instantly, glancing around. "But he likes you better. If you ask he'll be twice as likely to say its ok, and you know it."

"He doesn't like me better."

"He thinks your more responsible, and you know it. 'Sides, I'm going to be in trouble as it is with Tim ratting me out and shit." Jason hated to beg. "Dick, please!"

"Well…"

"Please!"

Dick made a face. "Fine, fine – but you owe me."

It was four thirty when Tim walked into Dick's room without knocking. The teenager studying on his bed looked up and sighed in annoyance at the sight of his younger brother. "Try again, Tim."

"Huh? Oh." Tim stepped back, smiling a little, closed the door, and knocked.

"Come in." Dick said in a bored tone. He watched as the door burst open and Tim entered once more, looking excited. "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm done with my homework and stuff, and my school called. Alfred said that I don't have to go to school tomorrow! He said that I'm … suspended."

Dick dropped his pencil, looking at Tim with a bit of surprise. "Tim, you do know that's not a good thing. Dad's going to kick your butt when he finds out about that. You know what happens when Jason gets suspended, Dad gets real mad. If I were you, I'd start to worry."

Tim's smile faded. "You mean that I'm in trouble?"

"Well, yeah."

"But Jason taught me how to throw the punch!" Tim exclaimed, hurrying to where Dick was sprawled out on the bed. He began to tap his older brother's arm in a repetitive motion as he spoke. "It's not my fault anyhow! I didn't do anything wrong!"

Dick pulled away, not enjoying being abused like he was. He gave Tim a careful look and then shook his head. "Dad'll probably chew Jays out, but you're the one who threw the punch. You shouldn't blame Jason so much. It was you."

The boy began to whimper, tears starting to form in his eyes at the realization that he might not have a very happy night now. "Buh-but Devin and Shane deserved it!"

Oh good, he was crying. Dick sat up and gave a small groan, closing his eyes as Tim began to cry over the matter. "Well, maybe if you tell Dad that they were making fun of you and stuff, maybe he won't be so mad. Ok? So stop crying."

Tim didn't stop crying. He didn't sob, thank goodness, but he was crying.

"If you want to make things better for yourself, then you gotta listen, Tim, ok? I'll tell you some advice." Dick was pleased to see Tim's tears slow down a bit at the chance to get out of trouble. "First off, wait in your room, act like you're really sorry and really sad about the whole thing. I'm sure you'll be able to work up a few tears, knowing you. Then, tell your story, and explain how Shane and Devin are mean to you all the time and that you couldn't help but hit Devin. Then say you're sorry for doing it, and want to apologize."

"But I don't want to apologize to Devin and Shane." Tim whimpered, rubbing a fist at his eye.

"Well, Dad'll make you either way. So if you offer, it'll just make him go easier on you, ok?" Dick gave a smile at this little brother. "You should go to your room. Dad'll be home soon anyhow."

"You don't know that."

"Well, Alfred got mad at him for being late last night, so he'll probably come home on time tonight." Dick checked his clock. "Yeah, I'd wait in your room."

"Dickie?"

"What?"

"Will you talk to him before he yells at me? You're good at talking to dad … please?"

What was it with Jason and Tim? Favors, favors! Dick gave a small nod though, unable to say no. Tim didn't usually get in trouble, and besides – he did feel a bit bad for his brother. "I'll try."

Bruce did get home shortly after Tim went into his room. He was greeted at the door by Alfred who wasn't quick to explain all the events that had taken place that day. Rather, he used as much tact as he could.

"How was work?"

"The same as it always is, meetings and more meetings." Bruce answered, as he allowed Alfred to take his jacket. He never liked that the butler insisted to hang up his own jacket, but oh well – so be it. "How was yours?"

"…Good. A Miss. Patricia called for you, the number is on your desk in your study."

"Oh, thanks." Bruce could tell there was more Alfred was going to say, seeing as the butler was staring right at him and not moving. "And?"

Alfred gave a polite smile in response. "Master Timothy had some … troubles at his school today." And the story was let out, Alfred explained the whole ordeal, and then explained that Jason's school called also. In the end he could see that Bruce wasn't taking the news well.

"Jason taught Tim how to throw a punch?"

"I believe if you ask Master Jason and Master Timothy, you might find a reason."

"When Jason punches kids at his school he rarely has a good reason for it." Bruce growled, wishing that he could somehow force Jason to act reasonable. It was so hard to remember that Jason couldn't always help what he did, especially considering that the teenager had been at the Manor for so many years now. "Thank you Alfred, I'll talk to them."

"Hi Bruce." Dick was coming down the stairs, looking rather innocent. "How was work."

"…Fine."

A nod and a smile. "That's good. I guess you heard about Tim, right? Well, I just thought you should know that it really isn't his fault. I mean, it is, but he's been having a lot of trouble at school. The kids are mean to him and well … you can't blame him for trying to put a stop to it, can you?"

Bruce quirked an eyebrow at the boy's sudden explanation. "I suppose Tim talked you into this?"

"Not really."

"Well, I appreciate what you're trying to do for Timothy, Dick. It's … very noble." Bruce wasn't sure what else to say. He moved past Dick and headed up the stairs. "But Tim needs to learn to talk for himself."

"…sure."

To be continued …