Note: Thanks for commenting, Rollerparty, JasonTKD, and LlCS! I love hearing your thoughts about what's happening! :)
Rollerparty - I'm pretty sure Batman can take care of them but I can try to write you in if you want. ;-)
JasonTKD - Dick is intelligent and strong and I'm fairly confident he'll be able to recover from this. :-)
LlCS - I agree, Greg is a good man. :)
Again, any name changes are completely intentional.
The three occupants of Wayne Manor went down to greet Greg Makov. Dick stayed shirtless in the hallway while Bruce and Alfred took Greg to the living room and explained what had happened before they had seen any evidence. The breakdown and the apologies and the fear of repercussions from Jasper.
"Dick, come here," Bruce called after less than three minutes.
The boy walked into the room and, without hesitation, went straight to Greg and turned around. The man gasped and his eyes widened in shock. All of these years working with the Dunstons and he had never seen anything like this! Why hadn't any of the other kids shown him, or even talked to him?!
The other kids had all been teenagers. Was it because Dick was only ten? Greg knew he was going to have to go back through his files and study every note he had about all the other kids who had stayed with the Dunstons.
"Can we talk, Dick?" Greg asked.
"Only if Bruce and Alfred stay," the boy replied. "They don't know anything and I only want to tell it once."
"Of course," Greg instantly agreed, knowing that once would be hard enough.
The story poured from the boy's mouth. The rules, his accidental breaking of them, his cooking mishaps, the yardwork that had worn him out so much that he had collapsed while jumping on a trampoline. Painting a fence in the dark, and hoping that it was good enough that he wouldn't get punished. Being allowed to 'choose' his own punishment on his first night there, having to act like everything was normal when Greg came to visit, taking a 'shower' under a hose with a bar of soap and no towel.
When he got to the part about being chained to the spout and baking in the sun for almost six hours, Bruce stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace, hands clasped strongly behind his back and jaw tightly clenched. Then Dick told them about his idiotic mistake of calling Jasper mean and how the man had hit him until he had collapsed and then done it some more. At that, Bruce folded his arms tightly across his chest and began striding angrily around the entire room.
Dick told them about the night Batman had been in his room, and how he had desperately wanted to try to give some kind of clue but was worried that either Matilda or Jasper would be standing right next to the hero. He talked about calling Wayne Manor and being thrown down the basement stairs because of it.
Greg should have interrupted by spouting some sort of legal thing about not contacting each other during an investigation but he didn't. He knew that any judge would throw that part out the window when told that Dick was trying to get someone to rescue him.
Finally, the ten-year-old told them about his last day. How he hadn't eaten breakfast only to find out that he could have and how he had spent the majority of the day under the porch. Which, he pointed out, is how he got the spiderweb in his hair.
"So you weren't dirty because you had been playing outside, you were dirty because they had you…chained…under a porch," Greg stated, his tone full of both guilt and horror.
"Yes, sir," Dick automatically replied. "I mean, yes," he corrected himself when he noticed Alfred raise an eyebrow.
"I really don't know what to say," the social worker remarked. "I'm sorry…"
"It wasn't your fault, Mr. Makov," Dick instantly assured him. "You didn't know."
"But it was my fault you were even there."
"And it was my fault for having an argument with you," Bruce chimed in, glancing at the boy as he continued striding around the room.
"And it was my fault that I overreacted to hearing that argument," Greg countered, suddenly standing up.
"Stop!" Dick demanded loudly. "It's Jasper's fault, and Matilda's fault. Neither of you had any control over their actions so please don't blame yourselves."
"Are you going to take him to a hospital?" Greg asked.
The social worker had joined Bruce in pacing around the room, matching him step for step and talking to him.
"Um, we were going…"
"Oh, right, to the clinic," Greg interrupted. "We need pictures and Dr. Thompkins will need to sign some paperwork. Dick's entire body is evidence so we need as much documentation as possible."
Dick looked at Alfred and mouthed 'Dr. Thompkins?' to which the butler silently replied 'bullet' and Dick understood.
Bruce glanced at Greg as if he had just noticed that the other man was beside him.
"Why are you pacing with me?"
"Because it's exactly what I would be doing if I heard this story from one of my kids," Greg replied. "It's hard enough for me to hear it as his case manager, so it must be ten times as hard for you – his parent – to hear."
"Thank you," Bruce whispered as he angled his pacing toward the couch.
Both men sat down again and Dick said, "I don't think you should use them anymore."
The three men just stared at him. A slight smirk manifested itself on the boy's face.
"They think their current house is small; wait until they see their new one."
"Are you…making jokes?" Greg asked in disbelief.
"Only you, kiddo," Bruce mumbled.
"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a phone call to make. The clinic will have closed by now but Mr. Kent will hopefully be able to reach Dr. Thompkins. I would like to get Master Dick in to see her as soon as possible."
Greg nodded and Bruce responded, "Thank you, Alfred."
"Well," the social worker said as he stood up again, "I have a lot to do now."
Like call the families of eleven other kids and ask about their time at the Dunston's house.
"Greg," Bruce suddenly began, "didn't you tell me these people had taken care of other kids?"
"Yes, but nobody ever…if I had known then I wouldn't have placed Dick there."
"I know that. But why?" Bruce asked. "Why do you think the other kids stayed quiet?"
"Jasper's mean and scary?" Dick suggested.
Bruce nodded in agreement and Greg looked thoughtful.
"I don't know, Bruce. I mean, all of those kids practically grew up with me as their case manager. They trusted me, so I assumed, anyway."
"Were they older than me?" Dick asked quietly, his bottom lip trembling.
Both men looked at the ten-year-old and Bruce stated, "Never mind. You and I can discuss this later, Greg."
"No," Dick said. "Were they? Because, if they were, maybe they didn't break as many rules. Maybe they knew how to cook and get yard work done quickly and remember to not talk and finish their workouts. Maybe they didn't even need to be disciplined. Or maybe Jasper just made them sleep in the basement. Maybe it's just me being an idiot and breaking rules and disobeying and failing at everything and talking too much."
Tears were shining in the boy's eyes but he refused to let them fall. Jasper had said he was an idiot and, if none of the other kids had ever needed to be punished, then Dick must be the only one idiotic enough to break the rules. It was always his fault, just like Jasper had said.
"No, kiddo, stop thinking like that," Bruce commanded gently. "None of this is your fault and you're not an idiot or a failure or a disappointment or anything else. How many times have I told you that you're smart?"
The question was answered with a small grin on the ten-year-old's face.
"I'm so sorry you went through all of this because of me," Greg stated, looking directly into Dick's eyes. "I never should have taken you in the first place and I regret every second, especially now."
"You didn't know," Dick replied, his voice shaking only slightly, "and I don't blame you. Are you going to call the police?"
"Of course," Greg answered.
"Can you tell them that, since they aren't villains, they're just regular bad guys, can you ask them to leave Batman out of it?"
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to stifle the growl.
"I think the police can handle the Dunstons, Dick, but I'll pass along your request. I'm glad you're back where you belong."
With that, Greg left and Bruce heaved a giant sigh.
"You had to do that, didn't you," he muttered, leaning his head against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.
"I'm helping you stay strong. If I can last five days with them, Batman can wait at least a week to talk to them. And maybe Batman will decide not to visit them at all. Maybe he'll decide that since the boy is back with Bruce Wayne and the criminals are kind of old and will probably die in prison anyway, he can just leave the whole situation alone."
"Dick, you are one of a kind, kiddo. I would give you a giant hug right now but I don't want you in more pain than you already are."
Suddenly, there was a light thump on his chest. Bruce opened his eyes, only to find the lighter ones of his ward staring into them.
"Sometimes," Dick said softly, "things that bring us pain also help take the pain away."
Bruce carefully wrapped one arm around the boy's head and the other around the one part of his back that was 'lightly' bruised – the small space between the bruise on his neck and the first dark strip that stretched across his shoulder blades.
He felt Dick's arms slide around his torso and then two strong hands clutch the back of his shirt. Bruce heard the tiny wheezes that were the result of the light pressure of the hug, but also knew that the tears now soaking his shoulder weren't ones of pain.
"I'm glad you're home, chum," the millionaire whispered.
"Me, too," the boy mumbled into the man's neck.
Later that night:
Following the advice of both Alfred and Bruce, Dick had decided to sleep shirtless. He didn't want any fabric rubbing against his skin and the nights were still warm anyway. Alfred had called Clark, who had called Leslie, but she hadn't answered. So, they couldn't go see her until the morning.
The men had decided to stay in Dick's room for the night, just in case something – a nightmare, perhaps – happened. Dick had protested at first, saying they also needed to be able to sleep, but he had lost the argument in the end. Bruce, having not seen his ward for over five days, refused to leave. Alfred was there to keep Batman away; he could still see the millionaire struggling to contain his emotions.
It turned out to be a rough night. Dick could only lay on his stomach and he became rather uncomfortable after a while. He was tired – the boy had slept for an approximate total of thirty hours over those five days – but everything was sore. Alfred had carefully applied some sort of Bat-cream to the ten-year-old's back but even the lightest touch made him flinch.
Bruce was on his usual chair and he had brought another one in for his butler. Eventually, everyone fell asleep. But it didn't last long. Ten minutes after falling asleep, Dick woke up, slightly panicked. He needed to be ready to make breakfast and he didn't have an alarm clock in here that was preset to six o'clock.
Silently, he climbed out of bed, doing his best to leave the men undisturbed. Dick thought about leaving the room in order to roam and keep himself awake but the door was closed and he didn't want to risk making even the softest of noises. So, he began pacing around the room, staying away from the two chairs and breathing as quietly as he possibly could.
Bruce was asleep but Batman was listening. He didn't hear the boy get out of bed, but he did hear the soft wheezes that were coming from random directions. Slowly, the man opened his eyes, preparing to surprise and attack whomever had dared to break into the Manor. The first thing he saw was an empty bed. And, at that very moment, a wheeze passed directly behind him.
Batman instantly jumped to his feet and spun around. There was a shadow drifting along the far wall, so Bruce immediately turned on the bedside lamp. The shadow turned out to be Dick, who immediately froze and stared at him with wide eyes full of trepidation.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," the boy whispered, his voice shaking slightly.
"What are you doing, chum?"
The words woke up Alfred, who stared at the scene in astonishment.
"I have to be up at six, remember? They want me up at six."
Dick's voice sounded a little confused, like he wasn't quite sure where he was.
"There's no alarm, I have to stay awake so I can be up at six," the ten-year-old continued.
Bruce stood by the table, shock in his eyes. But he quickly recovered and walked toward his ward. Dick took a small step back, hit the wall, and winced.
"I'm Bruce, kiddo, and you're back in Wayne Manor," he stated softly as he stopped walking. "You don't have to be up at six, you can sleep as long as you want. And growing boys need at least ten hours a night."
"Nononono, breakfast is at seven, Jasper wants it at seven."
"Master Dick, Jasper isn't here."
"But he's coming, I know he is, and he wants breakfast at seven o'clock sharp and I have to do it or he'll get his belt or send me to the basement where it's dark and scary and then I won't get to eat breakfast because I'll be down there so I have to go make breakfast before he gets here. And since you are both awake, I can open the door and go down to the kitchen without waking you up so you won't get mad at me, either."
Alfred watched his older charge carefully. Bruce had his hands clenched into fists but he didn't look like he was about to explode.
"Dick, you're not with them and they can't come get you. You're safe with us, with Alfred and I. Even if he did come, he wouldn't get to you because I would take care of him as soon as he set a single foot in this house."
The millionaire's voice was gentle at first but it ended in an angry growl.
"Master Bruce," the butler cautioned softly.
"I'm fine, Alfred, thank you," Bruce replied, without taking his eyes off his ward.
He was seven feet away from a terrified-looking Dick. Bruce went down on one knee and motioned to the boy. The ten-year-old hesitated, a thoughtful look on his face, then walked over to his guardian.
"I will never let him get near you again," the man said calmly as he gently took one of Dick's small hands in his much larger one. "It's not your job to make breakfast – or any meal – unless you ask Alfred and he allows you to help. You aren't in charge of it, you don't have to use the oven or stove or try to cook something you've never heard of."
"But, Jasper…"
"…isn't here, young sir," Alfred quietly finished the boy's sentence. "And he never will be."
"I…um, I'm confused," Dick admitted.
"The last five days were extremely traumatic for you, chum, but it's over. You're in Wayne Manor, where you belong. I'm Bruce and that's Alfred and nobody in this house is ever going to hurt you. I promise."
"Master Dick, you're stressed and terrified and a little bit lost. It might take a few days for everything to return to normal, but I also promise you that nobody in this house will ever harm you."
"I'm…sorry," the ten-year-old responded. "I just don't want to break any rules."
"Kiddo, even if you do break a rule, nothing physical is going to happen to you. Ever. We'll talk about it and I'll help you understand why we have the rule and what you can do to remember it. I will never hit you, or not allow you to eat, or make you sit outside in the sun for long periods of time, or whatever else they did to you."
"It was an accident; it was always an accident," Dick said sadly.
"I know, chum, and their rules were idiotic. Nobody should be expected to never talk or hide from everyone or paint a fence in the dark."
"I did good," the boy said proudly. "There was no red left and I didn't leave any long streaks of dripping paint."
Bruce chuckled, "I'm sure you did. You can do anything you set your mind to, I have no doubt about that."
"I did fifty pushups."
"What?!"
"Yeah, all at once. Well, twenty and then a rest and then seventeen and then a rest and then eight and then a rest and then the last five but that's close enough to all at once."
"Good heavens, Master Dick, you are strong!"
"Fifty…" Bruce began.
"Part of my workout. I was going to be super strong by the time Mr. Makov was done with his investigation. I was supposed to do it every day but I was so tired and I kept failing on the trampoline. My minutes were really adding up so I'm glad Mr. Makov finished early."
"Your…minutes?" Bruce inquired.
They didn't know the small details. Dick had only talked about the major things that had happened but, apparently, he was ready to get some things off his chest.
"Ten minutes jumping per day but I messed up on the first day so it was supposed to be fifteen on the next day but I only made it to five because I had to do it right after I ate so I got a cramp and I only had two glasses of water while I was pulling weeds so I was really thirsty. So Jasper added the ten minutes that I didn't do to the next day but I only got through five or six or seven or something when I was supposed to do twenty, I think. But Jasper said something about five and five so maybe I was supposed to do fifteen on that day and then fifteen the next day. I'm not sure, his words were kind of jumbling together because my head was kind of fuzzy so I don't know exactly what he said."
"Your head was fuzzy, Master Dick?"
"Yeah, you know like when you can't think straight because your brain hurts? Because you're really tired because it's hard to sleep on a kitchen floor and impossible in a dark basement? And because the sun is really hot and you're thirsty? You know?"
"No, young sir, I don't," Alfred whispered so softly that it was almost inaudible.
Both his eyes and those of Bruce were full of shock and outlined with anger. The younger man had his jaw clenched so Alfred cleared his throat.
Bruce, without the boy noticing, had led Dick back to bed. He nodded in acknowledgement when he heard his butler and his body relaxed.
"Since you've been so tired," Bruce stated as he sat Dick on the bed, "why don't you try to get some sleep. We need to get your brain, um…unfuzzied, right?"
"That's not even a word!" Dick exclaimed with a tiny smirk. "You can't unfuzzy something!"
"Well, you still need to get some sleep."
"Okay," the boy agreed. "And it was seventeen."
"Seventeen?"
"Yeah, I fell down at eight when he took a rest but got back up but fell again at eleven. Then he stopped at seventeen. He was really breathing hard so I think he got tired. Otherwise he might have gone to an even twenty."
"Please tell me you're not talking about…" Bruce trailed off; he couldn't say it.
"Oh, sorry, I won't tell you details if you don't want to hear them."
"No, I just, I mean, yes, you can tell me whatever you want. But were you, um…"
"Yeah," Dick replied with a yawn. "That leather was really tough."
The boy turned around and laid on his stomach. Ten seconds later he was fast asleep.
"Seventeen," Bruce whispered. "Seventeen!" Batman growled. "I'm going to kill him," the man stated matter-of-factly. "I'm going to get his own belt and do seventeen to him and then I'm going to tear him into little tiny pieces and then I'm going to put him back together so I can beat him to a pulp and then I'm going to kill him."
"No, sir, you aren't," Alfred responded patiently. "Think about what that would do to Master Dick."
"It would erase his fears of the man finding him," Batman snapped.
"And he would place the blame entirely upon himself for telling you. Do you really want him to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty because he thinks it's his fault that Batman broke his number one rule, sir?"
"No," Batman grumbled. "But it's not his fault," Bruce stated.
"We know that, but that's not how he will see it, Master Bruce. You know he would blame himself, sir, just as you are blaming yourself right now."
"Why do you always have to be so wise?" the younger man mumbled in defeat.
"You should get some sleep, also, Master Bruce," the butler answered with what could almost be described as a smirk.