If all goes well, Chapter 30 will be the final chapter. I'll plan to post it next weekend.
CHAPTER 29
The City Attorney got up to cross-examine Dr. Sawyer. She removed a document from her folder, showed it to Rae, then handed it to Sawyer.
"Doctor, were you aware that Dick has had multiple physical injuries while in the custody of Mr. Wayne?"
"Yes, Dick had a cast on one arm the last time I saw him. What of it?"
"Dr. Thompkins' medical report also shows bruising and a black eye as well as a broken wrist. Would you say that this is an unusual number of injuries for a child over a six month period?"
Sawyer pushed his glasses up his nose again and peered up at her. "Is there something you are trying to imply?"
"Could these injuries have been caused, perhaps by an adult?"
"You're crazy!" Dick shouted. I looked and found him standing on top of the counsel table, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Bruce didn't hurt me! Bruce would never hurt me! None of it was his fault! It was the bullies at school! And the arm was my own clumsiness! I just didn't get out of the way in time to..."
"Dick!" I said gently. He stopped his rant and looked back at me. "Shouldn't you get off the table now?"
He flushed when he realized where he was and carefully climbed down again. "Anyway," he said penitently to the scowling judge. "The bruises and the eye I got from the bullies at school. And the arm, like I told you, I did it while working on the traps."
Sawyer smiled benignly at the City Attorney. "As the boy says, his injuries are pretty much what an active boy of his age could expect. Especially when that boy is an acrobat. I don't see Dick blaming Bruce."
"Then, how about this," the attorney handed him another paper. "This is a report from the Gotham Academy as well as statements from two boys who attend there. They say that Richard actually started a fight with them by luring them behind a dumpster. He caused some fairly serious injuries. Do children who come from violent or abusive homes sometimes act out violently at school?"
"Sometimes children do," Sawyer said, reading the report. "But I don't think that this one did. I understand that he was moved up a couple of grades. He's also small for his age, so I doubt that he went gunning for the other boys."
"Still, it does happen that when a child learns violence at home, he often repeats it at school?"
"It can happen," Sawyer admitted grudgingly.
"Similarly, if a child is raised in a highly sexualized environment, he can act out later in life?"
"What do you mean by a sexualized environment?" Sawyer asked.
"Say, with a parent who dates frequently and has sexual encounters with multiple partners over time, making a practice of bringing them into the home overnight..." the City Attorney let her voice trail off suggestively. I felt my body brace defensively.
Sawyer bellowed a laugh. "Oh, you mean Bruce Wayne's popularity with the female sex? Much depends on how blatant Wayne is with his sex life and how much exposure the boy has to his parent's activities. If the man is discreet and maintains his life with an appropriate level of privacy, I doubt it would affect the boy much at all."
"Consider the example Mr. Wayne is demonstrating to a growing youth...that women are expendable, replaceable sex toys? That commitment to a sex partner is unnecessary? How do we know that growing up in such an environment won't encourage the boy to be as sexually promiscuous as his parent because that's what he perceives as normal?"
Dr. Sawyer looked frustrated. "It's also equally possible that, given the fact that this boy spent the first eight years of his life living closely with loving, monogamous parents, that he'll enter into committed relationships and grow up to be a well-adjusted adult. You're grasping at straws, counselor. The fact remains that this child is getting what he needs from his current setting: love, attention, consistency, food and shelter. I'd like to see one of your foster children get as much."
"I'm finished with this witness," the City Attorney said, looking satisfied.
"Re-direct?" the judge asked Rae. She shook her head. "No, I'm satisfied with Dr. Sawyer's testimony."
"Bruce?" Dick whispered softly into my ear.
"Yeah, chum?"
"Why are they spending so much time talking about your sex life?" He turned concerned blue eyes in my direction. I had already decided to invite any further female guests to the penthouse on top of the Wayne Building rather than the Manor to save Dick's sensibilities.
"I guess they think it's important that I model what they consider appropriate behavior for you." I said, a bit stiffly.
"Oh." Dick said thoughtfully. "Don't worry about me, Bruce. Me and some other kids used to peek through the slats when Harry the clown used to bring his girlfriend's home to his trailer. He had a different one in every town we stopped in. Sometimes two." He smiled, reminiscently. "Mom found out and made us stop being...'peeping toms'...she called it. She said it was disrespectful."
As I have often done since bringing Dick home, I paused a very long time before I could think of an appropriate response. Finally, I simply said, "Your mother was right. It is disrespectful." And I left it at that.
"It's okay, Bruce. I'd never peek in on you," Dick said sincerely and I resolved firmly to begin using the penthouse for my dates. There are some things I had never considered before when I decided to adopt Dick and that was certainly one of them. Another note I made to myself, go through my library and remove anything that might be inappropriate for Dick to see and lock down my computer files. I looked at his bright, earnest face and decided on double encryption for some things.
"I'd like to call my next witness, Dick Grayson," Rae said.
"It's about time," Dick muttered and popped upright, almost running to the stand. He stood with right hand up to be sworn in, then hauled himself up into the chair. Dick looked glad to be there. He was right. It was about time that somebody listened to his wants and needs. He's such a small boy, he was dwarfed by the tall chair and the even larger judge's bench next to him. I was suddenly afraid of Dick's very smallness. What if they decided not to trust such a little boy in my care? What did I know about kids anyway? I had already sent away for half a dozen child-rearing manuals and I hoped that book-learning would be enough to raise one child to adulthood safely. Not for the first time, I repeated my mantra: What was I thinking?!
"Hi Dick. May I call you that, or do you prefer Richard?" Rae asked.
"My name is Dick. I'm not Richard. It's Dick!" Dick said, glaring furiously at the social workers who were still getting it wrong.
"I see," Rae said, hiding a smile. "Well, now is your chance to be heard. I'd like to ask you a bit about your background, if I may. How old are you?"
"I'm eight years old. I'll be nine in March," Dick said, consciously sitting up, trying to make himself look taller.
"How long were you a performer for Haly's Circus?"
"I've been doing acrobatics since I could walk, but I started with the act when I was four. Dad had me on a high wire, but with a net, then he and Mom took turns tossing me from one to the other and swinging me over the net." Dick grinned, remembering. "It was really fun."
"Where did you live while you were with the circus?"
"We had a trailer. It was really tiny, so you had to be pretty neat and careful about putting things away. I had a bed in the back, Mom and Dad had a fold-out in front."
"Did you ever live anywhere else?"
"Yeah, we wintered in Florida, in Gibsonton. It's a circus town, y'know? Everybody there is either with a circus or retired carnies. You'd see old rides and stuff in their front yards. That's where I went to school, too. Then in the spring, we'd go back on the road with Haly's." Dick's smile grew broader as he remembered.
"Were you and your parents very close?"
Dick looked down at his feet. "Yeah. We were a family act. That meant I trained with them every day. Dad taught me about the trapeze, the high wire, acrobatics, sleight of hand, everything. Mom kept up with my school work so I didn't forget anything. I was always busy and with them most of the time, until...they were killed." The last was said in a near whisper.
"And that's when you met Mr. Wayne?"
"Yeah," Dick sniffled a bit and Rae handed him a Kleenex. "The social worker lady wanted to take me to the juvenile hall and I ran. Y'see," he looked up at Rae, blue eyes huge and swimming. "I've traveled all my life and I know what people think about gypsies. The kids throw rocks. The grownups blame any thefts on us. Mom and Dad kept me pretty close, but I still saw. Then she " He nodded toward Miss Simms. "Said she was gonna have trouble finding a place for me because I was Rom and...and...I just lost it." He blew his nose and looked around for another kleenex, which Rae supplied.
"How did Bruce come into your life?"
"He chased after me and caught up at my parents' trailer. He helped me pack my stuff instead of Miss Simms. She was looking at my home like...like...it was crawling with bugs or something. We weren't rich, but we still had our pride, y'know? How could she diss where I lived, just because we worked in a circus..." He swabbed at his eyes and nose again. "So Bruce helped pack my clothes and walked me out to Commissioner Gordon, then he volunteered to take me. Miss Simms was so glad, like I was a problem for her and she was happy to get rid of me. I went home with Bruce that night."
"Do you like living at Wayne Manor?"
Dick gave up on talking. He just nodded vigorously, then said. "They're really nice to me there. Alfred bakes me cookies, and Bruce takes me running. He even put up a trapeze set up for me and he even wants me to teach him how to fly. He sits with me when I have nightmares, or Alfred makes me hot cocoa." He looked down again, kleenexes balled tight into his fist. "Bruce even helped me fight off the bullies. He showed me some self-defense tricks."
"Where do you want to live, Dick?"
"I want Bruce. I don't ever want to leave again. He loves me and he cares about me." Dick stood and faced the judge. "Please, let me stay with Mr. Wayne, Your Honor, please!" The sound of his desperate young voice rang through the courtroom.
"Take your seat again, Dick," the judge said and Dick hung his head returned to the stand.
As he sat, he looked up again and made eye contact with me. It felt like a lightning bolt shot between us; there was, there is, a tie between us. That boy may not have any of my genes, but we're joined at the soul somehow. I tried to give him a reassuring look, but I doubt it worked. Dick didn't know about my last ditch contingency plan. Members of the JLA laugh at my tendency to have contingency plan upon contingency plan for any occurrence, no matter how impossible, but of course I had prepared for the worst.
My private jet was fueled and ready to leave at a moment's notice. I had already transferred substantial funds to numbered bank accounts overseas. If we lost the hearing, before social services could take him from me again, we'd be on that jet, me, Dick and Alfred. Dick would have a more cosmopolitan upbringing in those countries that lacked extradition treaties and were not signatories to the Hague Convention on Child Abduction. I truly hoped it wouldn't come to that, but this boy wasn't going to be raised in foster care! I was ready.
"Is there anything more that you'd like to say, Dick?" Rae asked him gently.
Dick nodded and, his voice breaking, repeated his plea to the judge. "I'm not too young to decide where I belong. I lost my parents and I miss them...so much. Bruce is my best friend in the world and I...I trust him. If I can't live with the circus again, then I want to be with Mr. Wayne. That's my home now, and I don't see myself anyplace else. So please, Your Honor, let me go where I belong..." With that, Dick slid off the chair and came back to his seat next to me, then burrowed into me, all but climbing into my lap. I couldn't say anything, but just held him close while he sobbed.
"Let's have a lunch break, folks," the judge said, eyeing Dick. "Come back at 1:30 and we'll see if Dick is up to some gentle cross examination." The judge stressed the word gentle and glared at the social workers when he said so.
