Sorry this chapter is so short, but the next chapter will be coming up this weekend.

CHAPTER 25

I telephoned Rae Green, who had already read the report.

"I can't say that I'm surprised, Bruce," she said. "You knew from the outset what the outcome was likely to be."

"I'm not backing down," I said, through clenched teeth. "I won't see Dick put in a group home or an orphanage. He deserves better than that! We're going to fight this! You know what's going to happen next, Rae..."

"Yeah, I do. I'll take care of it."

That evening, they came.

Dick and I were having dinner when Alfred appeared in the dining room. His face was impassive, but I know his tells. Alfred was upset.

"There are visitors for you, Master Bruce," my butler said.

Laying down my napkin, I rose from the table. "I'll see them in my study." I turned to Dick, giving him a smile of reassurance. "Go ahead and finish your dinner, Dick. I'll be right back."

After Alfred closed the door, he pulled me to one side. "Our visitors are from the Social Services agency. Miss Simms and Mr. Holland. They have a police officer with them."

I nodded but kept my face unreadable. When I read their report, I had had a feeling that this might happen. I told Alfred and opened the study door.

Simms and Holland were seated and a burly uniformed cop stood behind them. Miss Simms flashed me a triumphant look. "We've come to pick up the boy."

I glared at them both and sat down behind the desk. "Where are you taking him?"

"He'll be in the Gotham Juvenile Detention Center until we can place him in a foster or group home," Simms said. "It's hard to find adoptive homes at his age."

"He has an adoptive home," I gritted. "Mine."

"I'm sorry," Holland said, showing real sympathy in his face. "But your lifestyle is just not suitable for a growing child. Our recommendation is that your request to adopt be denied, based on..."

"The fact that I'm a playboy, isn't that right?" I said, anger burning inside. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. I played the socialite so that Batman could do his job and protect Gotham, but because of the facade I was going to lose someone...necessary...to me. "I'm going to fight this. I hope you know that," I said.

"Officer Wright is here to ensure that we leave with the boy," Holland said. "We thought that you might be...um...upset. He will go with you to retrieve Dick."

I opened the top desk drawer, removing the document that Rae had faxed to me just an hour before. "Maybe this will change your mind," I said, handing it to Holland.

He looked it over impassively, then sighed. "Okay, I guess you get to keep the boy until we meet in court."

"What is it?" Miss Simms asked, craning her neck to see the document.

"It's a court order requiring us to leave the minor here until the court hearing on the adoption." Holland carefully folded the court order and put it into his pocket. "You know that we're only interested in Dick's welfare, Mr. Wayne."

"I already know what is best for the boy," I replied stiffly, leading them to the office door. "Alfred, please show these people out."

After they had all left the study, I closed the door and sank back into the desk chair, allowing myself to have the shakes. That had been close. Too close. Briefly, the thought of stealing Dick and setting up a new home in some other country without extradition treaties ran through my mind... But no, my life was in Gotham and I was staying here. With my son.

I heard a light knock and the door opened. "Bruce?" Dick said, standing in the doorway, face pale. "I just saw Alfred take Miss Simms, Mr. Holland and a cop to the front door. They were here for me, weren't they?"

Answer truthfully and watch Dick fight with nightmares? Tell him a lie and let him believe falsely that things were fine? I might have paused too long, because Dick's face dropped. "That's what I thought," he said. "How come they aren't taking me to the Juvenile Center?"

"Dick, come over here by the fireplace and let's talk," I said, sitting on the couch and patting the seat next to me. Dick shuffled his way over to the seat and hoisted himself up next to me.

"Bruce, don't lie to me. They don't like you, do they?" He fumbled with his shoe laces and wouldn't meet my eyes. "They're gonna take me away from you and put me in a group home or something until I'm old enough to run away..."

Until he was old enough to..."Dick, we don't know yet what the court is going to do. We have to try." He still wasn't looking at me. All the spark in the boy's soul seemed to have been leached away. "C'mon, Dick, you're not a quitter." He hunched his shoulders under the arm I wrapped around him. I shook him a bit. "I'm not giving up and you can't either." I framed it as positively as I could, all the while trying to mask the sinking feeling I had in my gut. Bruce Wayne, empty-headed carouser was a bad bet for a father, and the world knew nothing about the good that Bruce Wayne, aka Batman was doing.

Dick finally turned his face toward me, eyes filled with such sadness that my heart ached for him. "Bruce...I just don't want...to lose anyone else..." He ran an arm under his nose before I could give him a handkerchief. "And anyway, shouldn't you be out on patrol catching the Joker?"

"Damn the Joker," I said under my breath, remembering where my duty lay. This boy needed me...but so did Gotham. I wanted to spend the time with Dick, maybe the last few days I'd ever get to see him. I took in a ragged breath. "Dick, we're going to court in four days...We're going to win." I wholeheartedly wished that I believed that.

"Yeah...right," Dick said, looking away again. He hopped down from the couch. "I think I'm going to bed. G'night Bruce. Night Alfie," he said as he brushed past Alfred, who was on his way into the room.

Alfred looked from me, slumped on the couch, to a visibly tearful Dick, making his way to the stairs. He marched over to where I sat and positioned himself immediately in front of me. "Bruce Thomas Wayne!" he barked. "You know, better than anyone, that defeat is a choice! Get up off your arse and use that finely honed intellect to keep your son!"

I shot bolt upright. Alfred hadn't used that tone with me since I was a whiny thirteen year old. As I stood before the man who raised me, I thought I caught a sparkle in his eye. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I said dryly.

"Indeed, I do not. I have never seen you give up on any goal you set yourself, and I don't want you to begin now. You love Dick Grayson like a son, therefore you will make it so, legally. Now make sure it happens," Alfred turned his back on me, heading for the door. He stopped just short of the threshold. "And Master Bruce, you should go to that boy and give him some encouragement. You are truly all he has now. You can't let him down."

I realized that I had always been confident before because I had had nothing important to lose. This time, I stood to lose a large piece of my newly rekindled heart and soul. If I failed now, the losing would hurt more than my parents' death had.

"Dick? Are you asleep?" I called softly from his bedroom door. I heard a sniffle and a hoarse voice called from the bed.

"Bruce?"

I turned on the light and found Dick huddled in his bed, blankets pulled to his chin. His suitcase sat open on the dresser, all his belongings neatly packed, with Zitka on top. "Where are you planning on going, chum?"

"I dunno," Dick said. "But not to the Juvenile Center. I'll live on the streets before I go there." He pulled the blanket away to show that he was fully dressed, down to his shoes. "I can sell the nice clothes you got me and live on that for a while."

I imagined Dick on the streets of Gotham, a young boy alone. My mind quickly ran through all the things that could happen to him, none of them good. Instead, I sat next to him on his bed. "Dick, I'm going to have to ask you to trust me. I'm as scared of the court hearing as you are. That's one of the reasons I need you as a partner."

"Why is that?" Dick asked.

"I need you there, fighting beside me. I can't do this without you, and neither of us can get through this without faith. When you fall, I hold you up. When I fall, you support me. That's what a partnership is." I held out my hand. "How about it?"

"All right," Dick said and we shook on it. His grip was surprisingly strong for an eight year old.