Note: Here is it, the real chapter 25!
The next morning:
Dick had spent the night in the hospital. Mr. Makov hadn't come back after going to see Bruce. The boy was sure that his guardian was being arrested or something equally horrible. Mr. Makov probably thought that Bruce had shot Dick. Somehow he would make it seem that way, just like Miss Jameson had tried to blame Bruce for everything. Dick was sure he was never going to see Bruce or Alfred or Wayne Manor again.
The ten-year-old had spent most of the night silently crying. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, anytime a nurse came to check on him. But Dick hadn't slept more than five minutes at various intervals throughout the night.
Suddenly, the curtain swung open and Mr. Makov entered the emergency room cubicle. He was smiling, attempting to put the boy at ease. But Dick wasn't going to fall for his act.
"How are you feeling, son?"
"Not your son," Dick mumbled.
Sighing, Greg said, "Of course, I'm sorry. What can I call you?"
"Dick."
His voice was sullen, like it had been yesterday in Greg's office. The social worker understood some of the reasoning for that now. But Greg still couldn't just let everything go.
"When can I leave?"
"I'm checking you out right now," the man answered, holding up a clipboard with some paperwork on it.
"No, when I can leave you and go back to Bruce?"
"We haven't figured that out yet. There's still a lot I have to investigate."
"What did he say?"
"Who?"
"I know you went to talk to Bruce."
"That's not something I'm going to discuss with you, kiddo."
"Bruce calls me kiddo. You can call me Dick, like I said."
Greg sighed again and shook his head. Susan had been right about one thing – the boy was somewhat rude.
"Alright, Dick, let's go back to my office."
The nurse had been wrapping the boy's shoulder and was now putting it in a sling. Dick inaudibly growled; he didn't need the sling anymore. He wanted freedom of movement. So, as soon as they got in the car, Dick took the restricting material off.
"Dr. Andrews said you need to keep that on," Greg commented when he glanced back.
"I'm fine," Dick grumbled.
Greg decided to pick his battles so he let it go.
"Can we talk about it now?" the boy asked.
"About what?"
"What you said to Bruce?
"I told you we're not going to discuss that."
"Where are we going?"
"Back to my office."
"Are you going to put me in…in the…"
The pause was long and awkward.
"In the what, Dick?" Greg finally inquired.
"The, um, detention…center," the ten-year-old whispered.
"Why? Have you done something wrong?" the man asked, surprised that the boy would even think of something like that.
"No, but Miss Jameson was going to."
"When did she tell you that?!" Greg exclaimed.
"Last year, at the, um, circus."
Dick was still whispering and the man could just barely hear him. This, he realized, was something he needed to take care of now. So, he pulled into the first parking lot he saw, stopped the car and turned to look at the boy in the back seat. Dick's eyes were outlined with fear and his body was tense.
"There is no way I'm taking you to the detention center, Dick," Greg assured him softly. "I don't know why Sus…Miss Jameson said that but…"
"She said there was no room," Dick interrupted quietly.
"Well, that was last year. I'll find a family for you to stay with, Dick. You are definitely not going to the detention center."
"Can't I just go back to my normal family?"
"Bruce Wayne is your guardian, Dick. He is not your parent and he needs to be investigated. His voice was very threatening yesterday and I can't just let that go. I have to make sure you are safe."
"I am safe with him," Dick mumbled. "Safer than anywhere else."
That was exactly what Clark Kent had told Greg yesterday. Something else to ponder, he decided as he faced front again. He started the car and drove to the social services building. Both man and boy were quiet as they took the elevator to the third floor, where Lisa met them in the outer office with a puzzle book.
Greg crouched in front of Dick.
"I'm going to find you a place to stay and then I'll begin my investigation, okay? If I feel that you will still be safe there, you'll be back at Wayne Manor soon."
"How long is 'soon'?" Dick asked.
"It should only take a couple of weeks."
"A couple…weeks?!" Dick gasped.
His small body began to tremble and his breathing became erratic. Greg recognized the signs of a panic attack, as did Lisa. He put his hand on Dick's shoulder, attempting to ground him.
"Just breathe, kiddo," he said gently. "I'll find you a great family, everything will be fine."
But Dick couldn't breathe. He felt like the air had been punched out of his chest and he would never be able to breathe again. A pair of soft arms enveloped his body and for some reason he trusted them. So he melted against the chest of Lisa and began crying.
"I've got him," Lisa whispered. "Go make some calls."
Greg nodded and stood up. He strode into his office, closed the door and began making phone calls.
"It's okay, sweetie, everything will work out," Lisa murmured in Dick's ear. "Mr. Makov will take care of things, he'll figure out what to do."
Dick stopped crying and remained absolutely silent.
"Do you want to do some puzzles, or color, or read a book?" she asked.
She was kneeling on the floor with the boy on her lap and her legs were already falling asleep. But Dick shook his head and his hands latched onto her wrists.
"Okay," she said soothingly. "We'll just sit here until you're ready. Okay?"
Dick nodded this time so Lisa shifted her position. She was sitting down now, leaning against her desk with Dick curled up in her lap.
"I'm sorry this is so hard," she whispered.
Dick nodded again and she felt the tiny shaking of his shoulders that meant he was quietly crying again. A single tear slid down her cheek; sometimes she hated her job.
"Are you sure you can't take him? It will most likely only be for a couple of weeks. No, I understand. Thanks."
Greg hung up the phone. That was his sixteenth call – all the usual homes had no room for anyone else. He had tried some of his normal foster parents but none of them were prepared for another child. He had two choices left: a poor but usually willing family – the Dunstons – or the detention center. So, really, he had no choice because Greg wasn't going to allow the innocent and terrified ten-year-old to spend any amount of time in the detention center. Sighing, he picked up the phone again.
"Hello, Matilda…yes, it's Greg Makov. How did you…oh, you bought a new phone, congratulations! Yes, I know. Well, I have a favor to ask of you and your husband. I have a kid, a ten-year-old boy, who needs a place to stay for a couple of weeks. Yes, I've talked to all the childrens' homes, nobody has room. If this will be a hardship…okay…yes, of course you'll receive money for his expenses. Really? Oh, thank you so much, you just bailed me out of a tough situation! His name is Richard Grayson but he goes by Dick. Okay, I'll bring him over this afternoon. Thanks again!"
Greg hung up the phone, stood up and walked to his door. He flung it open, ready to tell both Dick and Lisa the good news. But they were sitting on the floor, the boy tucked into a ball and the woman whispering in his ear.
Instead of standing there, he sat down next to them. He lightly touched Dick's arm, and the boy flinched.
"I've found you a place to stay, kiddo," he stated softly. "Mr. and Mrs. Dunston are really nice and…"
"Only Bruce can call me kiddo," the boy whispered with a sniffle. "Only Bruce and Alfred are nice."
"Give them a chance, sweetie," Lisa whispered back. "I know them and Mr. Makov is right. They are always willing to take care of our children."
"I'm going to go get you some stuff from Wayne Manor," Greg continued, "and then we'll go to the Dunston's house this afternoon."
"What stuff?"
"Some clothes and other necessities. Is there anything in particular that you want me to bring back?"
"Bruce."
Greg sighed and stated, "You know I can't do that, Dick. You cuddle up with Lisa and I'll be back soon. You're going to love staying with the Dunstons, I just know it."
Standing up, Greg strode out of the office and down to his car. Thirty minutes later he was knocking on the front door of Wayne Manor. Alfred opened the door with a polite yet somewhat grim look on his face.
"I'm just here to pick up some things for Dick," Greg explained. "I found him a family to stay with during my investigation."
"Who?" Bruce demanded as he strode into view.
"That's not something I can tell you. Please just show me where his room is and I'll collect some things that he'll need."
"How long will this investigation take, Mr. Makov?" Alfred inquired politely.
"Two weeks at the most, unless I find something unusual."
"Two weeks?!" Bruce gasped, much in the same way that Dick had.
"It is my obligation to warn you that you cannot try to find him or visit him. He obviously cares about you both very much and I would hate to have to take him away from you permanently."
"Of course, Mr. Makov," Alfred replied.
Bruce was standing completely still, shock written all over his face. Two weeks, two weeks without his shining light. Two weeks without an energetic ten-year-old running around the house, or working out in the gym, or flying gracefully through the air. Two weeks without being able to check on him after returning from patrol. Two weeks.
"He sometimes has nightmares," Bruce whispered to Greg.
Alfred had gone upstairs and was packing a small suitcase. Bruce was too stunned to even move.
"The people he will be staying with are very kind. They have taken several of our kids before and I trust them completely. He will be safe, Mr. Wayne."
Alfred returned and handed Greg the suitcase. Nodding his thanks, the social worker turned to leave.
"Tell him I miss him. Please," Bruce said quietly.
"I'll let him know, Mr. Wayne. I'll be back to visit you soon. We have some things to discuss and I need to have a look around your house."
With another nod, Greg walked out the door. Alfred closed it behind him, then waited until he heard the car start up and the noise fade away.
"Two weeks," Bruce whispered.
"We need to prepare the study, sir," the butler said wisely. "There can be no evidence of anything having to do with Batman."
"Of course," Bruce replied, still whispering. "But…two weeks!"
"We will get through this, Master Bruce. Master Dick is strong but everything has been ripped away from him again. We need to be prepared for his return and that won't happen if we stand here talking about how long he'll be gone, sir."
Shaking himself out of his stupor, the millionaire nodded. Together, they went to the study to hide the Bat-phone and make sure the bookcase wouldn't open and everything else they needed to do in order to protect Batman's identity.
Greg Makov and Dick Grayson arrived at Jasper and Matilda Dunston's house at three o'clock in the afternoon. The house was small and shaped like a rectangle. It was completely white except for the emerald trim on the roof. They walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the matching emerald door. It was immediately opened and they were invited in.
"Dick, this is Mrs. Dunston. Matilda, this is Dick Grayson."
"Hello, sweetheart," the woman said, looking Dick in the eyes with a warm smile.
She was short and thin, in her mid-fifties with wrinkles everywhere. Her eyes were an unusual mix of blue and green, looking almost teal in the light. Matilda's hair was a bright, flaming red with bouncy curls that matched the sparkle in her eyes.
"And this is Mr. Dunston," Greg said as a man walked into the room. "Jasper, this is Dick Grayson."
Jasper stuck out his hand with a smile. Dick slowly slid his hand into the much bigger one of the man and they shook firmly.
"Nice to meet you, Dick!" Jasper said in a loud but raspy voice. "Sorry about the somewhat creepy voice, I've had a bit of a cold."
Jasper was also short but he was lean and fit instead of just thin. The slight outlines of muscles in his arms reminded Dick of Oliver, the Australian, and he shuddered slightly.
"Nice to meet you," the boy said softly.
"We're going to have a lot of fun," Matilda said. "We don't have much in the way of toys but we make do with what we have. Do you like to read? We have a bookcase full of books."
Dick nodded, Matilda smiled again, and Jasper took the suitcase from Greg.
Crouching down in front of the ten-year-old, Greg said, "It's going to be fine, Dick. I'll complete my investigation as quickly as possible and, hopefully, my findings will be in Mr. Wayne's favor. Give them a chance, okay? They'll take good care of you."
Dick nodded again even as a tear slid down his cheek.
"Oh, sweetie, come here," Matilda said compassionately, gently taking Dick's arm and pulling him into a hug. "It will only be for a couple of weeks and we're going to have lots of fun together."
Greg stood up, thanked the Dunstons again, and left. As soon as he was gone, Matilda stopped smiling and pushed Dick away.
"I will now show you to your room and then give you a tour of the house," Matilda stated.
Grabbing his hand, Matilda led him down the hall. She stopped at the last door on the left and pushed it. It creaked loudly as it swung open. The room was small and there was no furniture. A thin mattress was on the floor, a thin blanket folded on top of that, and a flat pillow at the end by the wall.
"Let's go see the rest," Matilda continued, pulling him out of the room and returning to the front room.
"This is, obviously, the family room. Around this corner is the kitchen."
She led him into one of the smallest kitchens he had ever seen. It had a refrigerator, oven, three cupboards, a tiny pantry, and a round table with three chairs. There was just enough room for one person to move around and barely enough room for the small table.
There were two doors at the opposite end of the kitchen. One led to a bathroom and the other led to the backyard. The bathroom was small and had no tub or shower.
"This is the bathroom you will use," Matilda said shortly.
Dick wondered where he was going to take a shower but decided to save his questions for the end.
They went out the door into the backyard. It went onto a porch and there were three steps down. The yard was a perfect square and landscaped with rocks and tall weeds.
"Play area," she stated.
Pulling him back toward the house, she led him up the steps and back into the kitchen. The hall where they had taken him to show him his bedroom was near the bathroom. They walked down the hall and stopped at the first door on the right.
"This is our bedroom," Matilda said before continuing down the hall. "Laundry room right next to your room. Basement through this door."
She opened the door and Dick stared down at a long set of dark stairs. He couldn't even see the basement floor.
"No lightbulbs down there," the woman commented before closing the door.
Off they went, back to the family room. Matilda and Jasper plopped onto the couch and stared at Dick. He stared right back, nervous because he didn't know them and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now.
"Well, we have about an hour before dinner," Jasper finally stated. "Go play or something. Toys are over there," he swept his hand toward the wall by the kitchen, "and books are in the basement."
Dick silently nodded and went over to the toy area. There was a small box of legos and a well-worn stuffed animal in the shape of a…maybe it was supposed to be a whale?
His shoulders slumped in defeat and the ten-year-old sat down, leaning his back against the wall. Dick wanted to see what books they had, but Matilda had told him there were no lightbulbs in the basement.
As if she had read his mind, Matilda glanced over at Dick and said, "We have more books than toys, if you want to check them out. You look like a reader to me."
Dick nodded again but didn't move.
"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark," the woman said with a chuckle.
The ten-year-old shook his head. He wasn't afraid of the dark, he was afraid of being alone in the dark.
"If you're scared, there's a flashlight in the laundry room," Jasper stated, rolling his eyes before looking over at Dick. "So either go choose a book or play with the toys."
The adults looked away as Jasper turned on the TV. Dick pulled his knees into his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and dropped his head.
Only two weeks.
He tried to console himself with that thought, but right now two weeks seemed like two years.