Note: Thanks for the comment, finalotte! Trigger warning - mentions/short descriptions of bullying.
Later that night:
"I want to kill him!" Batman shouted as he stormed around the Batcave. "How dare he…and he's allowed to be a teacher?! A month, Alfred, how did Dick hide it for a month?!"
"He obviously has a high tolerance for pain, Master Batman. And, if you were nine, sir, wouldn't you be scared if your teacher told you that if you said anything he would kill your guardian? Master Dick is intelligent, but he also trusts the adults he interacts with on a daily basis. If this man is as big as he says, sir, then Master Dick would have an excellent reason to stay quiet."
"But I'm BATMAN! I should have noticed this; how did I not know this?!"
"Even Batman can overlook things, sir. The important thing is that we can fix it."
"Has the address come up yet?"
"No, sir. The Bat-computer has no information on a Mr. Jerkens."
"It's been almost three minutes!" Batman thundered. "How is there nothing?!"
"You're…Batman!"
The quiet exclamation came from behind them and both men turned around in surprise.
Dick was standing by the Bat-pole, his eyes wide with both shock and excitement.
"You're Batman!" he whispered incredulously, almost as if he were talking to himself.
"Dick, you shouldn't be down here."
"Come on, Master Dick, let's go back up to bed."
"So that's why I'm not supposed to go in the study," the boy murmured. "And you have a fireman pole behind your bookcase!" he declared, as if the men had no idea of its existence.
"It's a Bat-pole, Dick, not a fireman's pole," Batman grumbled. "And why were you in the study?"
"I…well, I decided to show you everything. I knocked but you didn't answer so I kept knocking but then I thought something was wrong so I just went in but you weren't there and your bookcase was closing and I thought maybe you were in some secret room but I didn't know there would be a pole that I could slide down!"
Two sets of adult eyes widened. They had heard the entire rambling sentence but one main thing had registered.
"Everything?!" the men exclaimed at the same time.
"Sorry," Dick's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I…you were so mad earlier. I didn't want to make it worse."
"I wasn't mad at you, kiddo," Batman stated roughly as images of his ward's torso rolled through his mind. "But you should have continued. I need all the information, Dick, so I can take care of this."
Sighing softly, the nine-year-old pulled up his pajama pants and the men discovered why the boy had stopped wearing shorts. His thighs looked like they had been dipped in a vat of blueberry juice and then carelessly spattered with purple paint.
"How are your legs worse than your torso?" Batman demanded.
"Oh, I didn't mean, these aren't from him," Dick replied. "Um, I'm just going to go back to bed now."
"Dick," Batman growled, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Sighing, the boy released his hold on his pants. He realized, too late, that intending to tell the men everything had been a mistake. They didn't need to know that Mr. Jerkens wasn't the only bully.
"Sorry," Dick mumbled as he dropped his eyes to the ground.
"Master Dick, there is no reason for you to apologize. Please continue your explanation, young sir."
"Well, now he's mad again and it's all my fault! I shouldn't have come down here."
There was a beat of silence and then he added, "This place is really cool, though."
"Again, Dick, I'm not mad at you. Is it another teacher?"
"Just some kid in my class," the nine-year-old responded as he lifted his head. "I don't know his name so asking that question won't work."
"How do you not know his name?!" Batman nearly roared.
"Master Batman," Alfred softly cautioned.
Clenching his jaw in frustration, Batman amended the question.
"What is he doing to make your legs look like that?" he asked, his tone softer but still overflowing with anger.
"He just stepped on me, it's not a big deal," Dick replied with a shrug.
Both men raised their eyebrows in disbelief. Having dark-blue thighs was 'not a big deal'?
"So, you were playing and he just came over…?"
Dick ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. The thought that this had been a mistake raced through his mind again.
"Come on, kiddo, spit it out. What happened?"
"The first time it was an accident."
"The FIRST TIME?!"
Batman wanted to punch something but the only thing close enough was the Bat-computer.
"Yeah, well, we were in PE," Dick stated, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. "We were racing, I was winning, I tripped on a rock and he stumbled over me. He accidentally kicked me and then we were both up and running again. But then he beat me to the gym, for the first time ever, but only because I couldn't run full speed. So then he decided that winning was fun – which it definitely is – but he can't win unless I'm injured. Once in a while he just messes around a little but yesterday…"
"Was more than 'just a little'," Batman finished when the boy abruptly stopped talking. Dick nodded with another sigh.
"It's my fault. I finally beat him even though I was injured. He wasn't very happy about it. His face was as red as a ripe tomato and he yelled that I wasn't supposed to win because I'm such a wimp when I get hurt. Which, by the way, I'M NOT!"
The last phrase was full of irritation and both men knew why it was there. Dick had a strong aversion to losing at anything. And, as both men had recently discovered, he had a very high level of pain tolerance.
"Anyway," the boy continued, "I reminded him that I had just won but I should have kept my mouth shut."
"Master Dick, it is not your fault that this boy cannot contain his anger."
Rolling his eyes, Dick replied, "I tend to be sarcastic and sometimes I'm on the wrong side of taunting. I couldn't stop myself from saying it, even though I knew it would upset him. So, like I said, it is my fault."
"No, kiddo, it's not. True, you probably shouldn't have said that but his reaction, which I'm sure you're about to tell us, was completely inappropriate."
"I did tell you," Dick declared, refusing to look at either man.
"Details, young sir. Batman wants details."
"This is stupid," the boy muttered. "I shouldn't have…just forget it."
Batman threw his arms in the air then turned around and punched the table. The Bat-computer shuddered and Dick's eyes grew wide.
"Okay!" he shouted. "One of his friends was behind me and I didn't know it and he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me to the ground and then whats-his-name stomped on my legs and then they just left and I was late back to class because it hurt to walk and that made Mr. Jerkens mad and then today I answered that question and so he was really mad and I hate school! But I actually don't because I like to learn about things but it's not as fun when people are mean all the time and I don't understand WHY!"
The words were flying out of the boy's mouth, making it difficult for the men to understand them. His tone, however, was unmistakable. First it was confusion but that was quickly replaced by anger. Then it was slightly fearful and, by the time he had ended his rant, all the men heard was misery.
"And now Mr. Jerkens wants me to come in early on Monday so he can tell me what you'll be hearing at parent teacher conference on Tuesday. But I don't want to because he's mean and I'm scared!"
"Dick…" Batman began but was immediately interrupted.
"He'll kill you," Dick whispered and the tears began anew. "He knows everything about you, Bruce! He knows when you have meetings and he knows when you have to go out of town and he knows when you're at parties. He can get to you anytime he wants!"
The child was on the verge of hyperventilation and could barely get the words out. Both men were instantly on either side of him, attempting to calm him down and reminding him how to breathe.
Batman was struggling to contain his rage. He understood why the kid had reacted that way, and so did Dick, but he was confused about the man. Why was the teacher picking on Dick, who was so innocent and trusting and…
"Because you trust him," Batman whispered, his tone full of fury. "He has the power because you don't – won't – question anything he says or does."
"I'm sorry, Br…Batman! What do you want me to do? I don't want to ask him…"
"NO!" Batman roared.
Dick flinched and took several steps backward. Batman took a deep breath and channeled the anger into his body, successfully erasing it from his voice.
"You don't need to do anything, Dick. As soon as I get an address, this will get straightened out. But…do you know why, kiddo?"
"I'm smarter than him?" the boy questioned softly with a touch of pride in his tone.
Alfred chuckled and Batman almost smiled. It was probably true; Dick's intelligence level was way above average and the man was intimidated. So, the teacher had become a bully. A very strong, very threatening, very frightening bully.
Going down on one knee, Batman motioned to the boy and Dick obediently walked over.
"Remember I said I'm a personal friend of Batman and that he would take care of it?"
Dick nodded with a slight grin.
"So, obviously, Batman is going to take of this, right?"
Another nod and the grin grew a little brighter.
"And of course he can take care of whats-his-name, who is just a kid, right? Whenever something happens to you, good or bad, I need to know, okay?"
The nod was smaller this time and the grin disappeared.
"Neither Bruce nor Batman can keep you completely safe unless they know what's going on in your life. Please don't ever hide anything from me again, especially something like this."
Dick was silent and still, Batman didn't even receive a nod.
"Okay?" the hero prodded gently.
"If I had known you were Batman," the boy accused with another small smirk, "I wouldn't have had to worry about him killing you. Then I could have told you right away."
The faithful butler chuckled again and Batman glanced back to glare at him.
"That brings up an important point, kiddo. This," the hero motioned around the Batcave, "has to be a complete secret. You can never tell anyone, no matter what. We would all be in serious danger if anybody were to discover my identity."
Dick raised his right hand and solemnly stated, "I will never tell anyone that my amazing guardian is the equally amazing Batman, no matter what."
"It's late, Master Dick," Alfred declared, "and you have school. Time for bed."
"Thanks, Batman," the boy whispered. He put his small but strong arms around the muscular torso of the Caped Crusader and squeezed him as hard as he could.
Before Batman could reciprocate, or even open his mouth to reply, the boy had zipped away into the tunnel that led to the service elevator.
With an amused and grateful glance at Batman, Alfred turned to follow.
"Should he stay home?" Batman asked, causing the butler to pause and turn back around. "He has a black eye, people are bound to ask about it."
"Perhaps you're right, Master Batman," Alfred responded. "I will let him sleep in; he definitely needs a good night of sleep."
Nodding, Batman turned to the Bat-computer, impatiently waiting for the machine to spit out an address. Or at least some information about the man who was terrorizing the ward of Bruce Wayne, a millionaire who had several very strong friends in high places.
The apartment of Harold Jerkens – two o'clock in the morning:
"Wake up," Batman demanded softly.
The bedroom window was open and the Caped Crusader had easily entered without a sound. Jerkens – Jerkface, Batman amended – was fast asleep and snoring loudly. He refused to wake up to the quiet command so Batman changed his tactic.
Grabbing the blanket resting on top of the man, the hero ripped it off the bed and whipped it against the wall. The result was a loud 'smack' and Harold Jerkens awoke with a start, only to find the intimidating shadow of the Caped Crusader looming over him.
"Batman?"
Harold's voice was both astonished and relieved. He didn't know why Batman was standing in his bedroom but he was grateful that it wasn't a criminal ready to kill him.
"Why are you picking on Dick Grayson?" Batman demanded, his voice low but the words full of fury.
"What?!" Harold exclaimed. "Who is Dick Grayson?"
That made Batman pause. He was expecting a denial of abuse but claiming that he didn't even know the boy was beyond that.
"He's in your class, at Gotham Elementary."
"I'm not even a teacher!" Harold stated in disbelief. "I'm an engineer, at Wayne Enterprises! You can talk to Evan Smirl, he's my manager and has access to Mr. Wayne!"
Evan Smirl.
Batman immediately recognized the name. The only way this man would know that name was if he was in the engineering department of Wayne Enterprises.
"Someone's lying," Batman growled before turning back to the window. Without another word or even a glance back, the Caped Crusader slid through the opening and raced to the Batmobile.
Had Dick lied to him or was the teacher calling himself Mr. Jerkens instead of his real name? Or maybe there was another Jerkens that the Bat-computer had somehow missed.
Batman suddenly found himself back in the Batcave. He climbed out of the Batmobile, a tinge of confusion surrounding the fury that was still flowing through his veins. The Bat-computer received a cursory glance as he strode by – there were no other cards with the name Jerkens.
Apparently, there was only one way to resolve this issue. Instead of Dick Grayson on Monday, it would be Batman meeting Mr. Jerkens in his classroom before school started today, Friday.
He climbed on the Bat-pole, pushed the Compressed Steam Lift button and was quickly returned to his study in Wayne Manor. Bruce exited, climbed the stairs and carefully pushed Dick's door open. The boy was fast asleep, although he was trembling slightly, and the man thought about just going in there now.
The thought was a fleeting one, however. Bruce also needed a restful night of sleep; maybe his ward would have a rare night of good dreams. It had happened a few times and the man really hoped it would happen tonight.
"Good night, kiddo," he whispered, "and I promise this will be taken care of before you go back to school."
Softly closing the door, the millionaire went to his own room, climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep.