Monday morning – Gotham Elementary:
Dick had been lucky. They had taken a short quiz in PE, all about muscles and bones. There hadn't been time for much of anything else by the time everyone was done with the quiz, so the kids had been given free time. Six and a half minutes worth of free time that Dick spent talking to a friend and doing his best to keep his left arm completely still.
Lunch was a little worrisome. He had been accidentally bumped by the kid who was in line behind him and had to bite his tongue to keep from gasping in pain. And then one of his friends had given him a light, friendly punch on the shoulder after telling the kids at their table a joke. Dick had almost cried out in pain but covered it by saying he had swallowed something wrong.
He went to the bathroom directly after lunch to check the injury. There was a small spot of red showing through the wrap so he decided to skip lunch recess. Carefully, he folded the lower half-inch of the material up over the wound, so the blood wouldn't get on his shirt. The last thing he needed was to be sent to the nurse.
During math, his teacher had patted his shoulder after handing him the weekly packet. Dick had to bite his tongue again, and this time he tasted blood. She didn't notice his flinch or the grimace of pain that took the place of his usual half-hearted grin.
The ten-year-old sighed in relief when the bell rang to end the school day. He walked slowly enough that he was at the end of the line to get on the bus. It was on purpose; he wanted to be able to choose the spot that would be least dangerous for his arm, which meant an aisle seat. Unfortunately, the fact that there were two new kids on his route meant that there were no spots left.
"Um, where do I sit?" Dick quietly asked the driver after staring at the seats for a full fifteen seconds.
The driver, surprised at the question since it came from such an intelligent child, turned back to look at the kids. The boy was right, there were no open spots.
"Well, I guess we'll have to squeeze you in somewhere," the man stated with a sigh.
He went down the aisle and began shifting kids around. Soon he had two small first graders on one bench. That left just enough space for Dick to be able to sit on the edge of the seat. A second unfortunate thing came from that: the first grader sitting next to him was petrified of riding in a bus. Usually, she held onto the arm of her best friend. That person had been moved to a different spot, so Dick's left arm became her lifeline.
Dick's nostrils flared as he tried to breathe through the pain. He took deep breaths, forcing himself to focus on that instead of the sharp sword that was continually poking his shoulder. The bus went over a bump; the little girl whimpered and squeezed his arm in fear.
The pressure made him light-headed as the imaginary sword jammed itself through his shoulder and up into his brain. Dick was gasping now – he couldn't stop himself – but was able to keep the sound nearly inaudible. After what seemed to him like three days, the bus arrived at Wayne Manor.
"This is my stop," he whispered to the girl. "You have to let go so I can get off. You'll be okay, don't worry."
She nodded and let go as a silent tear slid down her cheek.
"Hey, don't cry, you're going to be fine," Dick said gently. "He's a great driver, we've never even been close to an accident or anything."
She sniffed and nodded again. There was nothing more he could do for her, so he stood up. He swayed and almost fell right back down. Closing his eyes, the boy grabbed the seat in front of him and took a deep breath.
"Let's go, Grayson," the driver called.
Dick opened his eyes and made his way down the aisle, grabbing every seat on his right side in an attempt to stay upright.
"Thanks," he stated somewhat breathlessly as he climbed down the stairs and exited the bus.
"Yep," the driver replied, as he did every day when the polite ten-year-old thanked him. "See you tomorrow."
The doors closed, the bus left, and Dick dropped to his knees. He closed his eyes again and tried to keep his breathing even. But the pain was intense and he was feeling more than just a little dizzy. If he could just get to the house, everything would be fine….
"Alfred, is Dick home yet?"
"No, Master Bruce, but perhaps the bus is running a little late. He should be here within five minutes."
"I'm going to go out and watch for him. Hopefully he was able to get through the day without anything happening to his arm."
Without waiting for an answer, Bruce strode to the front door and opened it. He stopped, squinted, mumbled something to himself and then yelled into the house.
"He's had a bad day, Alfred! We're going to need some pain medicine and that sling!"
Again without waiting for an answer, Bruce sprinted across the lawn to his ward. Dick was still on his knees with his head dropped, cradling his left arm and attempting to calm down enough to stand up and get to the house.
Suddenly Bruce was there, and Dick looked at up him with relief. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes and his previous gasping was becoming hyperventilation.
"Hurts," he mumbled as he dropped his head again.
And then Alfred was there, holding a small tablet and the sling. He slid the medicine into Dick's mouth, distracting him while Bruce put the boy's arm in the sling as gently as possible.
Slowly and carefully, Bruce helped his ward stand up. Dick wanted to collapse and just sleep forever, but knew that Miss Jameson was coming tonight. He stood up as tall as he could and began walking toward the Manor, Bruce on his right and Alfred a step behind.
Fifteen seconds after they began the trek across the massive lawn, Bruce grabbed the boy's uninjured arm. Dick's legs were shaking and he was minutely swaying. The touch on his arm grounded him, and he forced the pain to the back of his mind.
Thirty seconds after that they were inside. Dick sat on the couch and leaned back, closing his eyes. Bruce, deciding they could always buy a new 'Jurassic Park' t-shirt, had grabbed scissors on the way to the living room.
"This is going to hurt for a minute, chum," he stated as he gradually removed the injured arm from the sling.
He laid the appendage on the boy's lap then cut the sleeve open. There was a large circle of red on the bandage wrapped around his shoulder and a thin river of drying blood snaking down his arm.
"Doing okay?" Bruce murmured as he carefully cut through the material.
"Mmmph," Dick responded.
Bruce glanced up. The boy's face was pale, he was sweating, and his jaw was clenched. He was definitely not doing okay.
"I need you to sit up so we can re-wrap it."
Alfred handed Bruce a large square of Bat-gauze as the younger man helped the ten-year-old sit up. Dick kept his eyes closed and began taking deep breaths.
"That's right, kiddo, keep doing exactly that."
Bruce pushed the Bat-gauze against the wound and Alfred swiftly enveloped the shoulder in a new bandage.
He's not going to make it through the visit.
He's strong, sir, and it is very important to him.
He's white as a ghost. I'm pretty sure she'll notice that.
He is stronger than you think, Master Bruce.
At least the handprint is gone.
"Done?" Dick whispered, interrupting the silent conversation between the men.
"Yes," Bruce replied.
Opening his eyes, Dick stated, "Guess I better go get dressed in those painting clothes, then."
Bruce reached for the sling but the boy shook his head.
"I don't want to have to take it off again. Please, it's only for a few hours."
"Okay," the man agreed.
"I took the liberty of gathering your clothing, young sir."
Without anyone noticing, Alfred had disappeared and was now back. In his hands were Dick's painting clothes.
"Thanks," Dick mumbled, slowly standing up.
"Alfred, pull the curtains. Dick, we'll give you privacy, just change right here. The less you move around the better."
"K," the boy whispered.
It took him five minutes just to change his pants. The men helped him with his shirt.
"We're going to go to the gym right now and just stay there, okay? The more rest you get, the easier it will be for you to play your part. I would rather not have you out of breath from stumbling to the gym right before she comes."
"Yeah," Dick agreed softly.
The gym was only three doors down the hall but it took them nearly two minutes to get there. They moved slowly and stopped every few steps so Dick could get control of his breathing. When they arrived, Bruce lowered his ward onto one of the benches and went to get the bucket of red paint.
"Do it," Dick demanded when his guardian hesitated.
Reluctantly, but knowing it was necessary, Bruce swiped the paintbrush down the boy's sleeve. To his relief, he didn't even touch the arm, but just the ripple of the material caused Dick to clench his jaw.
"Dick, we can ask to reschedule."
"She'll suspect something is wrong. I'll just sit here until five-thirty when it's time to unwrap it. At least you don't have to paint my cheeks," the boy ended with a slight grin.
"Master Bruce, you need to get some work done. It is already after four, sir."
Nodding, the millionaire got to work. He painted the macaw the same color he had just used on Dick then painted the elephant so there was some contrast. Bruce had just finished the third lion in the pride when the doorbell rang.
He glanced at his watch, hoping it wasn't six o'clock. It was five-thirty and Dick was already removing his shirt.
"Yes, Miss Jameson, they are currently in the gym, working on a project," Alfred said loudly.
Bruce and Dick looked at each other, both sets of blue eyes wide in horror. She was early and Dick's shoulder was still wrapped! His shirt was off and he was panting from the pain caused by removing it.
The man was suddenly by his side.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as he quickly tore the wrapping off.
"Hurry," Dick whispered back, panic in his voice.
They jammed his shirt back on when they heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the hall. Tears of pain welled up in the boy's eyes but he willed them away. He forced himself to stand up and walk across the room. Grabbing a paint brush in his right hand, he dipped it in the green bucket and began swiping at what he thought was a tree.
"Dick!" Bruce exclaimed quietly.
The boy was painting a zebra, not a tree.
Creative freedom.
That was the man's only thought as he raced to join his ward. He dipped his in green, also, and began working on an actual tree.
Everything was blurry to him but Dick didn't care. He was attempting to control his breathing, and not cry, and not collapse, and not do anything wrong in front of her.
At that very moment, Alfred arrived and allowed Susan Jameson to enter the gym. Bruce and Dick both glanced back with surprise on their faces.
"Miss Jameson!" Bruce stated innocently. "You're early! I haven't had time to clean up our mess, or myself," he said with a chuckle.
"Or, apparently, your ward," Susan replied haughtily.
"Well, what do you think?" Bruce asked, stepping back as if to examine their work.
"It's…interesting," she responded. "But why is the boy painting a zebra green?"
Dick looked back at the wall and squinted his eyes. Was he really painting a zebra?
Shoot. She's going to think something is wrong with me.
"His name is Dick," Bruce nearly growled through his smile. "And he's standing right here with us so you can ask him. I can't read his mind," he ended with a forced laugh.
"Come here," she commanded and Dick, assuming she meant him, turned around.
He put down his paintbrush and slowly strode across the room. Every step was like a knife jabbing itself into his shoulder but he wasn't going to allow her to see that.
"Bruce, Alfred, I will speak to the boy alone now. Give me ten minutes."
She shooed them out the door then sat down on one of the benches. Motioning to Dick, she patted the seat next to her and waited for him to obey.
"Now," Susan began after he had sat down, "why are you in here painting a zebra green?"
"Well, um, Bruce and I are working on a project. Alfred drew the picture and we're painting it. We like to do stuff together."
"Oh, do you now?"
"Yes."
"And what kinds of 'stuff' do you do together?"
"Uh, this project and we play cards and…"
"Cards!" Susan exclaimed in shock. "Is Mr. Wayne teaching you card games?!"
"No, um, I taught him," the boy answered quietly, slightly confused at the astonishment in the woman's voice. "The game is called 'War' and I learned it in the circus. My parents and I…we used to play…."
"You know that Mr. Wayne is not your parent, right? Tell me, why would he stoop to playing a circus card game?"
"I know he's not my father but he's like a parent," Dick growled defensively. "And he's not stooping to anything. It doesn't matter to him that I learned it in the circus. He plays with me anyway."
"Oh, so he plays with you, does he?"
"Yes, we play cards and board games and we work out in here and he watches me practice my tumbling and…"
"And when you work out and tumble, do you wear some sort of costume? Does he enjoy seeing you in these costumes?"
"What are you…"
Dick trailed off when he realized what she meant. It was like that day on the playground all over again. Almost forgotten details delivered to him by one of his peers quickly resurfaced and he had to force away a shudder.
"Grayson," she began as she laid her hand on his left shoulder, "you can tell me. I'm here to listen to you, to find out what's going on in your life. I can tell you're holding something back. What is Mr. Wayne doing to you?"
He stiffened at her touch, but the change was so small that she didn't notice it. He felt the liquid that dribbled out of his shoulder and really hoped that it wouldn't travel down his arm.
Removing her hand, Susan grabbed Dick's chin and tilted his head to one side and then the other. His face was pale, she noticed, and he was sweating.
"Are you nervous?" she asked sweetly. "You're awfully pale and warm."
"I've been painting," he answered, trying to remain calm and not begin gasping in pain. "We've done a good job, don't you think?"
"I doubt you meant to use the word 'we'," she replied. "You've probably done the whole thing yourself. How long has it taken you? Never mind, let's get back to my question. What is Mr. Wayne doing to you?"
"He's taking care of me," Dick almost snapped. "I'm safe and I go to school and I'm well-fed…"
"You don't look well-fed," she interrupted harshly. "In fact, you look rather underfed."
"I'm not!" Dick nearly yelled. "I just have a fast metabolism because I'm so active!"
"Did Mr. Wayne tell you to say that?"
"No! I learned that from Mr. Haly!"
"Now, now, you shouldn't yell at adults. Obviously Mr. Wayne has not taught you that."
Susan had a notebook in her hand. She took a pen out of her purse and scribbled something down.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. It's just that you're being kind of mean to Bruce…"
"Excuse me?!" she snapped. "So, Bruce has tried to turn you against me? Well, let's get into the real questions then. Does Mr. Wayne ever leave you alone in the house?"
"No, if he's gone then Alfred is here."
"Have you ever been injured while in his care?"
"No."
"I have it on good authority that you were in the hospital last year."
"Yes, but that wasn't because of Bruce."
"Where was he when you were injured?"
"At work but it happened because I missed the bus!"
"And he allows you to just miss the bus?"
"It wasn't his fault! I was talking to somebody and I didn't notice that the bus had left!"
"So he doesn't keep track of you, that's what you're saying?"
"No, I didn't say that! It's my responsibility to get on the bus!"
"So he's neglected to teach you responsibility, then."
"NO! You're twisting everything around! I missed the bus, my fault, and the brother of one of my peers offered to give me a ride. But he lied and took me to the circus grounds instead!"
"And Bruce didn't even notice that you were gone. You said 'peers'. Do you not have any friends?"
"Yes, I do have friends!" Dick nearly shouted again, hoping that she would ignore the fact that he didn't respond to her first comment.
"So you're saying that somebody else hurt you at the circus grounds. Tell me why, then, was it Bruce Wayne who took you to the hospital?"
"It wasn't Bruce, it was Batman! Batman found me and he took me to the hospital and Bruce came as soon as he found out I was there!"
"I can check with the hospital, you know. They will have to answer my questions about that night."
"Good, go ahead, because they'll tell you it was BATMAN who brought me there!"
"Calm down, child, for heaven's sake. You are a rude little thing, aren't you!"
"No, I don't…you're just messing everything up!"
"I'm just repeating what you're telling me."
"No matter what I say you're going to try to turn it around into something it's not. And whatever you turn it into will be bad for Bruce. Why are you even here if you don't care what I say?"
"I've been listening to you. I've heard every single word you've said," Susan countered.
"Listening and hearing are different from understanding and caring. You hear what you want to hear, which is not what I'm telling you. Bruce is the best guardian I could ever ask for but you don't care. I don't know why you don't like him but that shouldn't be a factor because you're supposed to be understanding me, not trying to find things to use against him!"
"How dare you imply such a thing! Obviously you have no manners, although that shouldn't surprise me since you live with him. I've half a mind to take you away right now, without even talking to them."
"You can't do that!"
"I can and I will if you don't tell me the truth!"
"I have been!" Dick yelled.
He had tried to hold himself back but he was at the end of his taut rope. The frustration got the better of him and he immediately regretted his action.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you," he stated quietly, dropping his eyes to the ground.
"You're so shy when you're apologizing," she commented. "Tell me, are you not allowed to look at him when you make him mad?"
"WHAT!?" Dick exploded, lifting his head and glaring into her eyes.
"Oh my, temper, temper," she stated, shaking her head and writing something down in her notebook.
"Why are you being so mean?!" he asked loudly. "Why can't you just accept that Bruce is amazing and leave us alone?!"
"Leave you alone?!" she nearly shouted back. "Bruce Wayne is the most selfish, uncaring, idiotic playboy I've ever seen. A child should not be forced to live in his household, especially one as young as you!"
"He's not selfish and you're bringing your personal feelings into what is supposed to be a conversation about how I'm doing! You don't even care about me!"
And that's when she slapped him. It was so fast that he didn't see it coming. It was so hard that it left his cheek stinging and flung his chin over his shoulder. And that's when he burst into tears.
Susan Jameson realized what she had just done and stared at her now-reddened hand in shock. How was she going to explain this to her boss? Well, actually, it was her word against that of a child. Who would her boss believe – one of his best employees or a strange boy that he didn't even know?
"You will not tell anybody about what just happened," she commanded.
"He might not, but I will!" Bruce snarled as he stalked into the gym.
Alfred and Bruce went straight to the study, where they could view what was happening through the cameras. And right away they knew it was all going south.
She led Dick from trap to trap, twisting his words around and confusing him. When she said Bruce was 'stooping' to play a card game, the millionaire almost headed to the gym right then. Alfred held him back, knowing that any interruption could only hurt them.
She implied that he was Bruce's 'toy' and the men immediately noticed the change in the boy's expression. That had hit close to home and Alfred had to hold Bruce back again. Both men growled as they saw him flinch when she grabbed his shoulder. Then, when the woman stated that Dick looked underfed, it was Bruce that had to hold Alfred back.
Slight grins appeared on the faces of both men when Dick explained exactly what she was doing. Pride lit up Alfred's eyes and astonishment raced through those of Bruce when the ten-year-old said that Bruce was the best guardian he could ever want.
"She can't do that!" the younger man snapped when Susan threatened to take Dick out of the house right then.
"I'm afraid she can, sir," the butler commented quietly.
Now Dick was yelling at her and the men shook their heads. This was not going well at all. And then she slapped him. Both men froze, shocked at the action. The thing that unfroze them was the sound of Dick bursting into tears.
Bruce stormed out of the study and ran to the gym. Susan was almost growling at Dick when the man arrived, her tone threatening but her voice slightly shaky. Apparently she had shocked herself, also.
"You will not tell anybody about what just happened."
"He might not, but I will!"
Bruce was furious and everything about him showed it. His body was tense, a Bat-glare was radiating from his dark-blue eyes, his hands were balled into fists and his jaw was tightly clenched. He took a deep breath as he glanced at Dick, checking to see if his boy was okay.
"It's my word against his, Bruce," she replied haughtily. "Neither you nor Alfred were in here and nobody's going to believe a child."
"Unless he is backed up by video evidence," the man stated, his tone much calmer. "You see that?" he asked, pointing to the corner of the gym just to the left of them. "That's called a video camera, and it just recorded you slapping my ward."
"I…no…" she sputtered, trying to find a way around this new problem.
"Get out of my house," Bruce commanded, his tone full of fury. "And take yourself off his case. Give it to someone else and leave us alone."
Now it was Susan who burst into tears. Standing up, she fled through the door and out of the house. Bruce ignored her and rushed to Dick's side.
The boy was quietly crying and cradling his arm again. Alfred, always prepared, had entered with a new bandage, the sling, a small pack of ice for the cheek, and a chewable tablet for the pain.
"I messed it all up, she's going to tell people that everything's bad here," Dick cried softly. "I was telling the truth but she kept making it sound like I was lying for you. They're going to come for me, I know they will! I messed everything up!"
"Dick, you didn't mess anything up. She was trying to confuse and frustrate you."
"It was working," the ten-year-old admitted with a sniffle.
Yes, we could certainly see that.
Bruce kept that thought to himself. Alfred was wrapping the shoulder and Dick was gasping, his face contorted in pain. Bruce took the boy's small right hand in his own, much larger, one.
"Squeeze as hard as you need to, chum. It will be over soon."
"I'm…strong…" Dick panted.
"You sure are, kiddo. I'm not sure we even know how strong you are yet. You continue to surprise me, every day."
Alfred gently slid the injured arm into the sling and Dick was finally able to marginally relax.
"She…slapped me!" he exclaimed quietly, sounding as if he had just realized that fact. "Will she get in trouble?"
"Only if we show the video to Commissioner Gordon and decide to press charges against her. Which we probably won't, unless she doesn't do what I told her to do."
"What?" Dick asked.
"I told her to give your case to someone else. I'll call tomorrow afternoon to find out who your new case manager is. If she hasn't taken herself off, then I'll pay a visit to the commissioner. If she has, then we'll let it go. She made a mistake and, although I really want to, Alfred will kill me if I ruin her career."
"The man in question is standing right next to you, Master Bruce, and that is an excellent observation. It was an egregious error, sir, but not one that should define the rest of her life."
"You're going to let it go?!" Dick exclaimed incredulously.
"Is that really so shocking?" Bruce asked in surprise.
"Well, you're just so…protective. After living with you for a year, I never would have guessed that you would let someone get away with slapping me! You haven't even forgiven yourself and you had to do it!"
"You're right," Bruce growled, his entire demeanor changing.
"No, Bruce, no, that's not what…"
"She committed a crime," he stated as he stood up.
"Good heavens, boys," Alfred murmured. "That's enough, Master Bruce," he said calmly. "Yes, she did, but we have just discussed this and the matter has been settled. You will not be showing any video to the commissioner because I am confident that she will remove herself from the case as soon as she gets in tomorrow."
"She slapped him, Alfred!"
"And it was a heat-of-the-moment decision that she immediately regretted, sir."
"But then she threatened him!"
"Her tone was threatening, Master Bruce, not her words."
"Bruce, come on, she didn't mean to. I was frustrated, she was upset, something was bound to happen. But like Alfred said, you already decided to let it go. So…let it go. I'm sorry for accidentally putting the idea in your mind."
"None of this is your fault, chum," Bruce snarled, "and…"
"MASTER BRUCE!" Alfred nearly thundered. "Sit down and calm yourself. You will not go talk to the commissioner and you will not pay her any type of visit! Is that understood?!"
Dick stared at Alfred in astonishment. Bruce recognized the tone and quickly sat down. Alfred had only used that tone twice – well, now three times – in Bruce's entire life. And both previous times had been when Batman was about to go on a rampage because of a horrific incident involving innocent citizens. A rampage that could lead to a broken rule, Batman's number one rule, which would lead the Caped Crusader down a path of no return.
Bruce hadn't felt like he was heading in that direction but Alfred was able to read him easily enough. If Alfred felt like he needed to use that tone, then Bruce needed to sit down and take some deep breaths and force Batman to leave the conversation.
"Okay," he said after several moments of silence. "We let it go."