Birth of Robin

CHAPTER 14

Welcome to Wayne Manor

...

|June 18th

|10:17 am

Dick hadn't said anything for three minutes. To him, it wasn't really that big of a deal. He hadn't found speaking to be very necessary in recent weeks and silence had become his natural state. Mr. Wayne and Pennyworth were obviously expecting some kind of response. Dick just didn't know what to say.

It wasn't for any emotional reason, like he was so overjoyed, or he thought he was dreaming and that if he spoke it would shatter the illusion. Dick didn't know what to say, because he didn't know what Bruce had said. Chase had taught him a fair amount of English, and Rose had worked hard to try and round out his vocabulary some. But the word 'adopting' wasn't one commonly used in casual conversation. Dick knew Bruce was taking him away from the detention centre, he understood that easily. But he couldn't determine if 'adopting' was good or bad.

They were standing away from the front desk, the two grown men giving him worried looks, while the guard had left not two minutes ago, and the receptionist completely ignored them.

Dick recalled, rather belatedly, that it was normally customary for someone to reply right away when they've been spoken to.

"Ce… What is 'adopting'?" [What] Dick asked. He was a little fearful at what the answer would be. 'Adopting' might be even worse than going to cell block A, or solitary confinement. No one had told him anything, so it must not be good.

"I suppose that isn't actually the best word to use," Mr. Wayne said. Dick didn't miss the way Mr. Pennyworth gave the younger man an almost disapproving glare. "As of today, you're my ward. You're coming to live with me, if you want to."

Dick's eyes widened. He would be living with Mr. Wayne? The man hadn't actually answered Dick's question, but the ebony now knew what he meant. It happened at the circus sometimes. Dick used to hear how normal people joked about running away and joining the circus. What they didn't realize is that it actually happens sometimes. A couple of the Performers at Haly's had come from poor living circumstances and joined the troupe when it came through their hometowns. Those born into the circus always joked that they were adopted performers. Dick had never actually heard the phrase spoken in English, but was familiar with it in a variety of other languages. He finally had the English translation.

"It's like foster care," Mr. Wayne elaborated, and with those four words Dick immediately shut down. His eyes narrowed in distrust and he took a step away from the two men. Dean had provided him with a foster home, and Dick doubted he would ever forget what happened there. Foster care was bad and he wanted nothing to do with it. He'd take cell block A over going back to that.

The two men seemed to realize that Mr. Wayne had said something wrong. Wayne himself seemed to stiff, shifting into a stance that Dick recognized as defensive. What Dick himself didn't realize, is that his own expression had melted into one found on criminals torn between fleeing or attacking. Because of Dick's training, he was leaning towards the latter.

It was Pennyworth who stepped forwards to defuse the situation. He crouched in front of Dick, moving in a way that made the little acrobat consider the man frail. He supposed that was an intentional move, but it was still effective. Dick relaxed slightly, telling himself that an old man, no matter what military air he had, would be able to beat a boy that had recently received mercenary style training.

"Master Richard," Pennyworth started, and Dick immediately frowned. Pennyworth was in no way his apprentice, so why did he call Dick that?

"I can assure you that coming to live in the manor is a good thing. We have no ill intentions, and Master Bruce only wishes to provide you with proper home."

Like the one you lost went unsaid, but Dick could practically hear the words echoing through the silence that followed Pennyworth's statement. Pennyworth sounded genuine, but Dick had understandably negative feelings towards foster care.

"I will be fostered?" Dick asked, searching for clarification. He didn't trust them, especially not with how dangerous Wayne looked right now, but they could be his only chance out of the detention centre.

"You will by Master Bruce's ward, and he will be your guardian," Pennyworth explained. "A foster home is normally a temporary situation. This will not be."

Dick cast his gaze down to his feet. Ward and guardian, not fostering, and long term as well. He had his misgivings about Wayne and Pennyworth, and he felt like they must have had some kind of ulterior motive. But Wilson hadn't contacted him again, and Dick wanted to continue his search for Zucco. He looked at Wayne and nodded.

"Okay."

Wayne didn't exactly, but he looked almost pleased. Pennyworth wore a dignified grin as he stood up straight again.

"Let us just get your things, and then we'll head home."

...

|11:03 am

They had reached the Gotham's outer edge and entered an area called the Palisades, if the sign Dick noticed was correct. Wayne and Pennyworth had been surprised to learn that Dick didn't have any belongings to take away from the detention centre, besides the clothes that he was wearing when he arrived, and he didn't bother explaining to them why that was. Wilson had all of his things somewhere.

Dick was dismayed at the fact that he might never see those items again. Zitka, the photos, his father's watch, his mother's necklace, and their wedding rings. He realized that he'd never damaged the personal items. It had been a while since he thought about Romani customs, but wondered if angry spirits had already attached themselves to the items, now that they weren't damaged or properly sold. He remembered his nightmare—one of many—when his family had pushed him off the trapeze platform, and visibly shuddered.

The car ride had been spent in almost complete silence. Wayne had tried to start a conversation, and even Pennyworth contributed the odd word in the hopes of spurring Dick on, but the boy's lips remained shut. He didn't see the point of casual conversation with people he didn't trust. He focused his attention on the houses outside. They were utterly massive, and he couldn't believe that each one belonged to just a single family. They stopped briefly at the end of a gated drive, and while waiting for the gate to open, Dick caught his first glimpse of Wayne Manor.

It was by far the biggest house he had seen so far, and the estate itself was massive. There was a double staircase leading up to the main entrance, and an elaborate fountain sat on the grass between them. At the two front corners, and framing the entrance were what Dick could most easily describe as castle towers. They were square, made of the same grey stone as the rest of the visible exterior, and each one topped with a parapet. Judging by the number of windows, there were three stories, plus attics and upper balconies in the gables.

It was an imposing building, looming before them, and the archway above the door reminded Dick of a gaping may waiting to swallow them whole. The clouded sky did little to lessen the manor's foreboding appearance. Pennyworth pulled the car up below one of the stairways. Dick didn't wait for the elderly man to open his door, and instead clambered out before the vehicle had even stopped.

He stood on the drive, taking in as much of his surroundings as he could, just like Wilson taught him. The manor, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes, the smaller lane off the driveway that appeared to circle around to the back of the house, and the numerous plants on the estate. Dick would have to give the rest of the estate a thorough look over later. He didn't intend to stay with Wayne long. He was still confident that Wilson would attempt to reach out to him again. Even though Grant's betrayal was like a stab to the heart, Dick hadn't lost faith in the older boy's father. Wilson had been his saviour, something not easily forgotten.

"What do you think?"

Dick nearly jumped at the sudden closeness of Wayne's voice. He hadn't even noticed the man moving towards him. Not an easy thing to do on loose gravel. This meant Wayne had either done it intentionally, or it was so habitual he didn't even realize he'd done it. Both answers were troubling to the little acrobat.

"It's big," Dick shrugged. He didn't trust either man enough to tell them how ecstatic he was to be out of juvenile detention and living in a real house, or how impressive he really thought the house was. "You are rich?"

"To put it lightly," Alfred said, smirking from his spot on the stairs. Dick nodded and started inside. He recognized the name Bruce Wayne the second he heard it, but hadn't been able to place the man. If he was rich, he was probably famous. However, while living with the circus, media had never been an influential part of his life.

The inside of the manor was just as grand, and a little less gothic. A single staircase crawled up the right wall of the foyer, and the hallways leading out had arched entrances. The chandelier above Dick's head was massive and he found himself wondering, with a sort of morbid curiosity, what would happen if it fell.

Wayne apparently had to go to work, where he was actually supposed to be at that moment, and returned to the city while Pennyworth gave Dick a tour. He showed him the kitchen, the family and guest dining room, and the living room. Pennyworth gestured down a hallway that led to Wayne's rooms and study, then guided Dick to his own bedroom. It was on the second floor, near the center of the building. The walls were a dark blue, and the bedding was plain and gray. Dick was assured that they would go shopping soon for anything he required, lunch would be at precisely twelve, and he was free to roam the rest of the manor until then.

Once he was alone, Dick sat on his new bed and stared around the room. There was a desk, a wardrobe, and a dresser, along with a nightstand just beside him. He expected the wardrobe and dresser to be empty, and was surprised when he opened both to find clothes already inside. And not just any clothes, but his clothes. Not the items he had taken to Dean's, Wilson was still in possession of those, but everything he had left behind at the circus. Including the uniform his mother had made for their final performance.

Dick didn't know how Wayne had acquired these items, and at the moment he didn't care. He slipped the uniform from its hanger and draped it across the bed. The blood was gone, and it looked brand new. The ebony had been reluctant to wear the uniform at the time, but it was a family tradition. For each Grayson's quadruple flip debut, they were given an outfit that would make them stand out. Dick had been worried that he would stand out too much, and he had never told his mother how much he really like the outfit.

Dick found felt his resolve crumble and he collapsed onto the bed, pressing his face into the red vest and crying himself to exhaustion.

...

|12:32 pm

Dick awoke to a light knock on his door. The red vest was still pressed against his face, and his cheek probably had red creases from the folds in the fabric. He didn't really care. He stumbled to the door and opened it to see Alfred standing just outside.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Master Richard, as when I last checked it looked as if you needed the extra sleep. But your lunch is getting cold, and I wouldn't want you to miss a meal," Alfred said kindly.

Dick just nodded, suddenly very conscious of his red eyes, and rubbed at the tear tracks on his face. Alfred led him back to the family dining room, which had a smaller more intimate table. There were two plates, and Dick realized that Alfred had been waiting for him before he himself ate. Despite his lack of trust, he felt a stab of guilt. Dick wasn't too hungry, but sat down and started picking at the food before him anyways.

"Why do you call me master?" Dick asked as he slid the prongs of his fork into a tender piece of chicken.

Pennyworth almost looked surprised by the question. "Because I am the butler of this household, and it is the respectful term used to refer to those I work for."

"And what… does 'butler' mean?" Dick's questions were hesitant. He didn't want to reveal his lack of English language skills as a weakness, but got the feeling that Pennyworth wouldn't take advantage of that.

"A butler is the main male servant in the home of a normally wealthy family. I have worked with the Wayne family for two generations now and practically raised Bruce myself," Pennyworth explained.

Dick nodded slowly before asking one more question. "Mr. Pennyworth, does that mean you fostered or adopted Mr. Wayne?"

"Please, Master Richard. Alfred and Bruce are just fine, there is no need to be so formal." Dick would have laughed, if he really felt like laughing. That statement was ironic coming from the aged butler. "I became Bruce's legal guardian after his parents passed, and he is very much like a surrogate son to me. As you would be like a grandson."

Dick stiffened, blue eyes locked onto his plate, and feeling rather lost. This man didn't know him, didn't know anything about him. But he was ready to call Dick his grandson. It made the ebony uncomfortable with the situation.

Alfred seemed to sense this, and abruptly changed the topic. "Is the food to your liking?"

Dick's appetite had lessened during his time in solitary, due to the small meal portions, and as a result he hadn't eaten much yet. The few bites Dick had taken were delicious, and he told Alfred as much. He didn't quite trust the gentleman yet, he had only known him for a few hours after all. But there was just something about the balding man that made it hard to distrust him. All that aside, Dick's parents had raised him to be polite.

He didn't miss the way Alfred smiled when Dick habitually moved to clean up the dishes himself.

...

|June 21st

|4:51 pm

Three days at the manor. They had yet to go on the promised trip to buy new things for Dick, but he wasn't worried about that. He was more concerned with what to think of the man that had taken him in. He had seen very little of Wayne. The billionaire would head to work early in the morning, and retreat into his study whenever he arrived home. Which should be right about now.

Dick was crouched at the top of the staircase when the front door opened. Bruce looked to be more in a hurry than usual. Dick had taken to observing and getting to know his surroundings during the past three days. The manor was massive, and he was still unfamiliar with much of it, so memorizing its layout would take some time.

Learning Bruce and Alfred's schedules had been fairly simple. Alfred typically spent the day tidying up around the manor. Dick had witnessed a few other staff members, but they were only present for a very short portion of the day after lunch. Alfred did almost everything himself. He would start making dinner sometime around four thirty, so it would almost be ready by the time Bruce arrived at five. By six the dining room would be set, and dinner would be served. Bruce would customarily lose himself in some form of office work he had brought home. That's at least what it looked like.

After dinner, Bruce would retire to his study. Dick noticed that, around nine o'clock each night, the sounds of shuffling papers and scratching pens normally silenced. He wouldn't see Bruce again until morning, if he woke up early enough.

Dick only had two and a half days' worth of observation, but Bruce seemed like the kind of man who stuck to a schedule. So it was odd to see him in such a rush. The dangerous feeling Dick got from Bruce seemed to have tripled, and he didn't even notice the young boy watching from the top of the stairs.

"Alfred!" Bruce called as he removed his jacket. The butler entered the foyer not a minute later.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'll be eating in the study tonight. There's been a development," Bruce said.

"Of course, sir." Alfred nodded.

Without another word, Bruce towards the stairs. Dick scrambled back and ducked into the closest room as Bruce passed. His eyes followed the man all the way down the hall, until he disappeared from view. The exchange itself wasn't all too strange. Dick now knew that Bruce was the CEO of a billion dollar company that dealt in all sorts of things, including charities, technology development, medical advancement and more. The 'development' Bruce mentioned could have easily been in reference to some kind of business contract.

But Dick had a feeling that wasn't right. It was strange, the way that Bruce emphasized the study. Dick waited a few minutes, devising the perfect excuse for why he might be barging into the study, then knocked on the door.

He received no answer.

Dick frowned and knocked again. When nothing happened, he tested the handle. It was unlocked. He opened the door to find the study empty. Dick could have sworn that he saw Bruce enter this door, but maybe he had been wrong. He looked to the next door over. It was too far down the hall for him to have made a mistake. He checked it anyways, and found an empty bedroom. He stared around the room with a calculating gaze, before his eyes drifted to the wall right next to the door. But that couldn't have been right.

He backed up and returned to the study, standing with one foot in the room, and the other in the hallway. Dick looked from the far wall of the study, to the door down the hall. The depth seemed off. He entered the study and started probing the wall. It was a book shelf, nothing suspicious about that. It was a little ridiculous, but he started to pull the books from the shelves. From what little he knew of cartoons, and that was very little at this point in his life, bookshelves sometimes hid secret passages that could be opened by pulling a certain book. He went for the most obvious ones. Large tomes, or covers that stood out against the rest. But nothing happened.

Dick scowled and stepped back, bumping into a pedestal. He whirled around, slapping his hands on either side of it to keep it steady. Although there hadn't been any danger in the first place. The pedestal stood firm, and the bust on top of it hadn't moved and inch. Dick stared at the marble face, and read the plaque on its base.

Alan Wayne

One of Bruce's ancestors then. He prodded the bust, never actually having seen one before in person. The marble was cold and smooth, and the carving itself was very detailed. There were kind wrinkles around the man's eyes, and it even almost looked like there was seem where the neck met the collar of the carved shirt.

Very detailed.

A loud noise by the window drew Dick's attention away from the ghostly face. It had been a dull thud, almost like the sound of someone being punched. He shook his head and focused on Bruce's desk. It was expensive by the looks of it, and there were several files sitting on top, along with a laptop. A smile stretched its way across Dick's face and he pulled his hands away from the bust, moving instead to sit in the leather chair.

He had been worried about how he would resume his research on Zucco, but he'd just found his answer.

...

'See' you next time!