A/N Woohooo! Christmas vacation! You gotta love it.

Disclaimer Christmas is a time for sharing. Unfortunately, DC Comics didn't get the memo.

Acknowledgement Thank you, Law and Order, for expanding my notions of police procedures. (The old ones that still have Fontana are the best.)

Chapter 10

The problem is not that it's too difficult for children, but that it's too difficult for grown ups.

- Madeleine L'Engle

Name: Grayson, Richard Charles

Age: 8

Birthday: February 19

Height: 3'9

Weight: 65 lb.

Eye color: Blue

Those were the statistics in the file from social services. The brief biography said that Richard had lived with both of his parents until the age of two, when his father had died in an unspecified accident. He then returned to Gotham with his mother, where they lived on a pension from Wayne Enterprises.

Must not have been much of a pension if they had to live in the Narrows. Her computer issued a series of triumphant clicks, and Cecilia's attention returned to the screen. Pimpernel? As in...The Scarlet? Interesting choice... A click of the mouse and the names of Bruce Wayne's private files were scrolling before her. ...Finances, house and staff...Finances, personal...Finances, Wayne Enterprises...Grayson, Richard. "And Bingo was his name-o," she sang softly as she copied the file to her own hard drive. On a whim, she also copied the three finance folders, then carefully erased all traces of her presence on Wayne's hard drive and settled down for some serious reading.

- - - - - -

Dick sat at the kitchen counter, seriously separating the stars from the marshmallows in his Lucky Charms. Cecilia sat at the table, closely observing him over the rim of her coffee cup. The events of the day before appeared to have left no visible damage on the boy, who looked about as contented as a child could be. Dick was slurping the last of the pots of gold when Alfred reentered the kitchen.

"If you are finished with your breakfast, Master Dick, Miss Tracy is waiting for you upstairs."

Dick looked outraged. "I have to have school today?"

"It's Thursday. You always have school on Thursdays."

"Yeah, but…"

"Are you ill?"

"No."

"Then hop to it. And don't forget to clean your teeth."

"But it's so boring."

Alfred looked stern, and Dick shuffled his way out of the kitchen. Alfred placed Dick's bowl in the sink. "May I offer you some breakfast, Miss Somerville?"

"No thank you, Mr. Pennyworth, I don't need anything other than coffee."

Alfred's mouth tightened every so slightly, but he nodded courteously and turned to the sink. Cecilia's own mouth twitched. She could practically feel the disapproval radiating toward her from that ramrod of a back, not over her refusal of breakfast but because she insisted on addressing him by his surname. On her first night in the manor, he had politely requested that she call him Alfred, and she had just as politely refused. Calling him by his first name while he continued to address her by her last would, Cecilia felt, put her at a decided psychological disadvantage. Once you started thinking of someone as a servant, you began, in certain ways, to take them for granted. Alfred Pennyworth would be a very dangerous man to forget.

Setting her cup on the counter with a quiet clink, Cecilia followed Richard out of the kitchen. The boy was nowhere to be seen, but she made her way confidently up a flight of stairs and down a corridor to an open door.

The room was an education major's dream. Large windows flooded the room with light while presenting a beautiful view of the snow covered grounds. From the ceiling dangled models of the solar system and various constellations, while the floor was covered in a thick carpet woven in a pattern of jungle vegetation with animals peering out between the broad leaves. Brightly colored charts with diagrams of the various systems of the human body hung along one wall, and a table holding a microscope rested beneath them. At the front of the room, a slender woman stood shuffling through a thick file folder, her blond hair tumbling carelessly over one shoulder. At Cecilia's entrance, she looked up, and an expression of displeasure crossed her porcelain features.

"Miss Somerville. Will you be joining us again, today?"

"If it is quite convenient to you, Miss Tracy. I promise not be a distraction."

The teacher scowled, but had no choice but to nod in agreement. Cecilia pulled a straight backed chair into a corner of the room and seated herself complacently.

- - - - - -

What's the point of getting kidnapped if I can't even miss one stupid day of school? Dick leaned over the sink and took a deep breath through his nose. A explosion of toothpaste emerged from his mouth, spattering evenly around the sides of the bowl. Surveying his work with satisfaction, Dick wiped his mouth on the towel and made his reluctant way to the schoolroom.

"Dick!" cried Miss Tracy the moment he stuck his foot through the doorway. The next moment he was scooped up in a perfumed and suffocating hug. "Oh Dicky, I'm so glad you're safe."

She released him at last and Dick backed away in relief before it occurred to him that here was a possible chink in the chain of command. He assumed a pitiful expression, allowing the corners of his mouth to droop. "It was really scary."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sure it was." Miss Tracy reached out and brushed the fine blond hair away from his forehead. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," Dick responded uncertainly, wondering what sort of injury he might be able to create. "But…I can't think very well."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. Mr. Wayne thinks it would be good for you to have school today, but we won't do anything too hard, ok?"

Dick sighed heavily. "Ok."

Dick slowly took his place at a low table, and Miss Tracy stood in the front of the room, tapping a polished wooden pointer on a small white board. "Today we will learn about the silent 'gh' sound."

Miss Tracy's soft voice droned on, and Richard transferred his focus to a picture of a rocket blasting off. "Data control, this is Captain Grayson. All systems are go."

"Excellent, Grayson. You know that the fate of the whole world depends on this mission…"

"Dick?"

Dick scowled in annoyance as his attention was forced back to the present. He discovered that Miss Tracy had set an open book in front of him. "Dick, why don't you try reading this paragraph for me?"

Dick looked down at the word groupings and felt overwhelmingly bored. It was probably something about ponies or playing baseball. It usually was. He turned soulful blue eyes on Miss Tracy. "Couldn't you read it to me?"

"Well…Just once so that you can get the feel of it."

A movement in the corner caught Dick's eye, and he turned his head to see Alfred saying something in a soft voice to Miss Somerville. Dick hadn't even realized she was in the room. Miss Somerville nodded and stood, and she and Alfred left. Dick turned back and resigned himself to hearing about the pony Delight, who took fright and had to sleep with a night light.

- - - - - -

Gordon shifted nervously on the rich brocade cover of the sofa. He had felt a lot more comfortable last night in the casual setting of the kitchen than he did in this delicately decorated room. What kind of people actually install white carpet?

He rose to his feet as a woman entered the room. "Miss Somerville?" She nodded. "I'm Lieutenant Gordon."

She regarded him unsmilingly. "How do you do?"

"I hope you're feeling alright after yesterday?"

"Yes, thank you." She sat down on a chair and waited expectantly.

Gordon resumed his seat and noted that Somerville, in her baggy sweater and severe bun, appeared as out of place as he felt. "Can you tell me what happened yesterday? Please be as thorough as possible."

"I was escorting Richard to the dentist…"

Gordon allowed her to talk without interruption until she reached the explosion. "Miss Somerville, how did you know the car was rigged to blow?"

"I didn't. Actually, I felt rather silly lying out there in the snow, pushing the button."

"Then why did you do it?"

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. "They let us see their faces. I couldn't believe they would just let us drive away. And there was a remark the, ah, Joker made. Something that made me think starting the car would trigger a trap."

Although Gordon studied her carefully, he could detect nothing besides a calm confidence. "An awfully slender lead. What would you have done without the remote start button?"

"I don't know."

"Have you ever had any other run-ins with the Joker?"

"Certainly not. In fact, yesterday, I had no idea who he was."

"Really?" Gordon allowed a faint note of disbelief to enter his tone. "He made national headlines a few months ago with a crime spree here in Gotham."

"I was out of the country."

"Oh?" he gently prompted.

"Columbia. I worked with an internationally sponsored orphanage."

That sounded legitimate. It would be easy enough to check. "And what brought you to Gotham?"

"Work. Surely, Lieutenant, you don't suspect that the attack was aimed at me personally?"

"Frankly, no. The indications are that you and boy were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but we have to cover the angles."

"Including the convenient presence of this bat person?"

This time Gordon was genuinely surprised. "Didn't anyone explain to you?"

"I really haven't had time to talk to anyone." She lifted a hand and touched the base of her neck gingerly. "So no, I haven't received an explanation about why it was necessary for the creature to knock me over the head."

"An unfortunate mistake. The Joker put a video on the networks asking Batman to pick up the hostages. Of course, had things gone according to plan, you would have been dead by the time he got there."

Somerville adjusted her glasses and gave Gordon a severe look that made him feel he was back in the third grade. "So Batman is a part of the police force."

"Not exactly. He's more of an…independent consultant."

"A vigilante?"

"No…" Gordon just stopped himself from sticking the corner of his mustache in his mouth and wondered how his interrogation had gotten so far off course. "If you really want to know about him, back issues of the Gotham Globe will tell you as much as anyone else knows. All I can say is, our job's sure gotten a whole lot easier since he showed up."

"Yes," she agreed unexpectedly, "I heard about the wonderful job the police did in helping out with the Hearts and Homes fundraiser last month. Mr. Judas was very grateful."

Gordon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We were happy to do it. It was good publicity for the department and besides, Judas helps a lot of kids."

"Yes," she agreed quietly, and Gordon thought he detected a strange flash of regret.

After a moment, he encouraged, "And after the car exploded, what happened?" He listened to rest of her story in silence, then stood. "Thank you very much, Miss Somerville. Those are all my questions for now. However, the department artist is set up next door, and I was hoping you might be able to describe one or more of your kidnapers."

"Certainly," she agreed, and rose to follow him from the room.

- - - - - -

Bruce sat at his desk, staring absently at the swirling colors of his screensaver. Dick has a clown phobia? It would fit with what the boy had said of his mother's connections with the circus. Back in August, Bruce had hired a detective to try and trace Robyn Grayson through that slender clue, but the man had poked around nearly three dozen different circuses and carnivals with no results. Bruce had dutifully filed every one of the useless reports in Richard's file until, too frustrated to remain inactive, he had tried to see whether Batman could do a better job.

Someone cleared their throat, and Bruce looked up to see Somerville standing in the doorway. "Miss Somerville, what can I do for you?"

"I understand you have a meeting with Miss Tracy to talk about Richard's progress."

"Yes, she should be here in," Bruce glanced at his watch, "two minutes. Would you like to be present?"

"You must be psychic," she answered, with only the faintest hint of sarcasm, and seated herself on a chair near the door. Bruce went back to staring at his screensaver.

Two minutes to the second later, Miss Tracy walked into the office. "Mr. Wayne, I hope I'm not late." If her voice had been sweet when talking to Richard, it now held enough honey to drown a hive of bees.

"Of course not, Miss Tracy, punctuality is one of your many gifts."

She giggled and sat down across from him, not seeming to notice Somerville's presence. "I know you're a very busy man. I wouldn't presume to waste your time."

Bruce waited patiently. He personally had never quite understood the woman, but then, he didn't know anything about educating a second grader either.

Miss Tracy flipped open her file folder. "Dick's math scores are, of course, way above his grade level. We've moved on to long division and some simple algebra. In science we've continued to study different sorts of engines."

Bruce frowned, struggling to remember. "Haven't you been studying engines since the beginning of fall?"

"But there's such a lot to learn, and Dicky does enjoy them. In social studies we've studied the pilgrims and the Native Americans. And we're still working on the second grade reader. Dick seems to be about on grade level there."

There was a very soft snort from the door. Miss Tracy started and turned to see Somerville regarding her with a faint smile. "Miss Somerville, I didn't see you."

"Apparently not. But don't let me interrupt you."

"I…er…" Miss Tracy fluttered the pages of her folder. "I think that's all."

Bruce looked surprised. Typically, these monthly meetings lasted for at least an hour. An hour which, he had to admit, he mostly spent floating in a confused haze as Miss Tracy rambled on about state standards and personalized curriculum.

"Unless you have any questions," the tutor added hastily.

"Ah, none that I can think of."

Smiling nervously, she gathered up her folder and left, casting a sideways glance at Somerville.

Bruce stared after her in bemusement. "That was odd. You seem to have frightened her, Miss Somerville."

Somerville moved up to occupy the chair the tutor had just vacated. "Tell me, Mr. Wayne, have you ever sat in on one of Miss Tracy's sessions with Richard?"

"Once. But Miss Tracy had warned me that I would be a distraction, and after the experience I had to agree with her. All Dick wanted to do was talk."

"Did you wonder why such an obviously bright child had so much trouble focusing?"

Bruce shrugged. "Kids and school. I was usually bored, too."

"Mmm." Somerville looked thoughtful. "Fortunately, Richard had no desire to talk to me, so I was able to observe a good deal on Tuesday, and then again today. I'm not a licensed educator, but I think I can safely say he is not reading on grade level."

"You mean he's above it?"

"No."

"He has problems reading?" Bruce asked in disbelief.

"I don't know," she responded dryly. "I haven't been able to observe him. Every time a reading assignment has come up in the classroom, he's been able to talk his way out of it with the charm of a practiced charlatan."

"What?"

"Richard Grayson is a very strong willed boy. From the little I observed, Miss Tracy is incapable of making him do anything he doesn't want to. Furthermore, she has no interest in doing so."

"She's a licensed teacher," Bruce protested, "and she came with high recommendations. Why wouldn't she be doing her job?"

Somerville's mouth drew itself into a prim little line. "Come, Mr. Wayne, surely you've noticed."

"Miss Somerville, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"In theory, a happy ward makes a happy, grateful guardian. Shall we say that the core of Miss Tracy's interest does not lie with the boy?"

He'd certainly had much worse accusations hurled at him, so why did he feel like he'd been caught kissing the maid in the broom closet? Despite himself, Bruce could feel a flush heating his cheeks. "That's ridiculous," he muttered.

Somerville looked positively maternal, as if it took all her self-control not to pat his hand and say, "There, there, silly boy." What she did say was, "But quite apart from that matter, the woman's methods are preposterous. She stands at the front of the room and lectures as if she had a whole class full. And her textbook selections! She's absolutely incapable of holding Dick's attention." Somerville shook her head disapprovingly and stood. "If you want my advice, Mr. Wayne, you'll find a new tutor immediately, preferably a male one. Or at least, one married and over sixty-five."

She left Bruce staring after her in humiliation. A minute later, he could have sworn he heard the faint sound of laughter echoing down the corridor.

To Be Continued…

A/N Huge thanks to those who left notes of encouragement and understanding about the school-induced delay!

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