Note: Thanks for the review, finalotte!
Both of his charges had, it seemed, slept peacefully through the night and Alfred was relieved. Humming as he prepared breakfast, the butler smiled as the image of a kneeling Batman comforting a young Dick Grayson appeared in his head.
"Good morning, Master Bruce," Alfred stated when he heard movement behind him.
"Oh, um, hi, Alfred."
Raising his eyebrows in surprise, the butler turned around. Dick was downstairs before Bruce?!
"Um, my alarm didn't go off and it's almost seven-thirty. I don't have time for breakfast; I'm going to get in trouble."
"You have the day off, young sir, with Master Bruce's permission. Three days of rest will be good for you."
"But I can't miss Fridays! Those are teacher meeting days and Mr. Jerkens is gone until lunch! It's the best day of the week!"
"Master Dick, today you need to rest. Everything will be taken care of before you return to school on Monday."
Meanwhile, in the Batcave, Batman was pacing in frustration. The man had a substitute today; the woman had told him about the in-service meetings and that all teachers would be gone until classes resumed in the afternoon.
"I'll just have to meet him after school," the hero grumbled, annoyed that the school was disrupting his perfect plan.
The Caped Crusader, after two hours of deep sleep and then three hours of restless half-sleeping, had returned to the Batcave and prepared to go meet Mr. Jerkens. He had a speech ready and knew exactly what tone he was going to use for each word. But, he also didn't really care about the speech. Maybe he would beat now and ask questions later.
When he had stalked into the man's classroom, however, he had been greeted by the sweet old lady who substituted in Dick's class every Friday morning. Batman had been supremely frustrated but had managed to be polite to the woman.
And now, here he was, impatiently waiting for almost six hours to pass so he could talk to the man who was secretly assaulting an innocent child. As if the nine-year-old hadn't had enough trauma in his life already.
Batman also needed to find out the identity of the kid who had turned Dick's legs into the color of plum pudding. He didn't know how he was going to do that. Yet. His only idea right now was following his ward around school but that would embarrass the boy.
Maybe not, if he went as Batman on Monday. He could talk the principal into letting him 'test' the security equipment. While reviewing the school's cameras, if there were any, he could add some Bat-cameras. A slight grin of satisfaction swept across his face. This afternoon was going to be interesting and Monday was going to be productive.
Gotham Elementary – three o'clock:
The bell to signal the end of the school day had just rung. Batman was across the street, leaning against the front end of the Batmobile and waiting for the mob of kids to dissipate. He watched as the little kindergartners were walked to the parent pick-up area, saw a gaggle of sixth grade girls giggle about something that was probably nonsensical and noticed several teachers ushering the kids away from campus. Was one of them…
"Mr. Jerkins!"
A tall, very muscular man walked out of the front entrance of the school. He smiled at the boy who had just called to him and waved to a group of younger boys who were running towards him.
By Batman's estimation, the man was about six feet, seven inches and around two hundred and sixty pounds. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him; it was pure muscle. The Caped Crusader, at six feet three inches, came in at a much leaner but still solid two hundred twenty-seven pounds. Dick was right – Batman, in stature, was no match for Mr. Jerkens.
Batman, however, had years of fighting experience on his side. The teacher looked young, maybe twenty-six, and didn't move like a man who knew how to fight. And why, Batman wondered as he watched the man interact with a plethora of kids who were now jumping excitedly around him, was Dick being treated so differently?
Mr. Jerkens didn't look the least bit like a frightening bully. He had a genuine smile on his face and was now crouching in front of the kids and doing some sort of magic trick. Confusion raced through the mind of the Caped Crusader. Batman trusted Dick, implicitly, but this Mr. Jerkens didn't look at all like the monster his boy had described yesterday.
Then, from the back of the school, a dark-haired man stalked toward the teacher parking lot. His build was nearly the same as Mr. Jerkens, who was standing and shaking a parent's hand. But the stranger walked with a confident swagger, his large hands clenched into fists by his sides and a dark frown on his face. It was obvious to Batman that this man knew his way around a boxing ring, or something similar.
The man was unlocking a very used but very shiny ruby-red pickup truck when Batman suddenly appeared beside him. He instantly dropped his keys and jumped into a fighting stance. Batman stepped closer, invading the stranger's personal space.
"What do you teach?" he snarled.
"None of your business," the man snarled back.
"It is when one of your students is being assaulted," Batman retorted furiously.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just the janitor," the man spat angrily.
"Name," the Caped Crusader demanded.
"None of your business," the muscular man repeated. "Should we do this here or behind the school where you won't be humiliated?"
"I will give you one more chance. NAME!"
The last word thundered around the parking lot and the chattering around them stopped. Batman knew that everyone was now watching and that he would have to choose his actions carefully.
The silence grew as the men glared at each other. Batman was four inches shorter and he hated having to look up at the man. No wonder nine-year-old Dick, standing a mere four feet and weighing just under fifty pounds, was terrified of this man.
"Marty! Marty Jerkins, what do you think you are doing?!"
The loud voice came from behind Batman, in the direction of the school. The man in front of the Caped Crusader growled but dropped his hands, which had been up defensively ever since Batman had appeared. He straightened up and the hero immediately noticed the name tag on the man's uniform – Marty Jerkins.
"So it's with an 'i' instead of an 'e'," the hero murmured. No wonder the Bat-computer hadn't been able to give him more information. He had input "Jerkens" not "Jerkins".
A tall but skinny man appeared from Batman's right, his face full of fury.
"First of all, what are you doing here, Batman? Second, why do you two look like you're about to fight? And finally, why aren't you in the computer lab doing your job?!"
Marty flinched before turning his gaze to the newly-arrived man.
"He's accusing me of something I didn't do," Marty stated, glancing at Batman then immediately looking back at his boss.
"Kindly step away from my employee, sir, and tell me what you are doing here!"
Batman growled and moved his Bat-glare from Marty's face to that of the man he recognized as the principal.
"I have reliable information that a Mr. Jerkins is assaulting one of your students."
The principal, Sam Mercer, burst into loud laughter and Marty sneered at Batman condescendingly.
"Marty wouldn't hurt a fly," Sam declared. "He looks and acts tough but he would never assault anyone, especially not a child!"
"How do you know?" the Caped Crusader growled again.
"Because if he does even one tiny thing wrong, he goes back to jail! He's got an anklet that tracks all of his movements and his watch has a camera!"
"Something is going on at this school!" Batman shouted. "One of your students has been repeatedly assaulted and nobody is doing anything about it! Who at this school is capable of such a thing and why hasn't he been fired?!"
"Who is this alleged victim?" the principal inquired, his tone full of disbelief. "Nothing like that would ever happen at my school. Marty, dismissed."
The muscular man left and the skinny principal stared at Batman for several seconds.
"Why don't you come to my office and we can discuss this privately."
The Caped Crusader nodded brusquely and followed the man into the building.
"As you can see, we have a very bright…"
"I don't need the tour and speech," Batman interrupted. "Just get to your office."
Shaking his head, Sam lengthened his strides and they made it to his office in less than three minutes.
"Please, Batman, have a seat."
Sam motioned to a large chair in front of an even larger desk. Then he strode around the desk and sat in his leather chair. Rocking back and forth, he steepled his fingers together and stared at Batman quizzically.
"Now, who is this alleged victim?"
"That is information that you don't need to know until I figure this out."
"Come now, Batman, are you saying that I'm a suspect?" Sam asked incredulously.
"Everyone is a suspect for now."
"Well, what evidence do you have?"
Bruce had been smart enough to take pictures of Dick's torso – both front and back – and his arms without showing any identifying features. Batman pulled them out of his utility belt and tossed them onto the principal's desk.
Sam picked them up one by one and carefully examined each of them. Then he rolled his eyes and chuckled.
"I would know this body anywhere," he declared. "Did little Dick Grayson tell you that a teacher was assaulting him, or perhaps that one of the kids did this?"
Batman was shocked but didn't allow his expression to show it. How did the man know it was Dick and why did he sound so apathetic?!
"Here's the situation. Dick Grayson, in case you don't know this, lost his parents in a circus accident. He's now the ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne. I've never seen such an angry child, Batman. He constantly picks fights with other kids and, since he's so small, loses a lot. These bruises are not from an unprovoked attack on an innocent child. He's a bully, Batman, a small but strong bully who can't protect himself but starts fights anyway."
Batman's mind was reeling. He trusted Dick but the principal sounded very convincing. And Batman could see, in his mind, an image of a young, angry Bruce Wayne whose face then morphed into the youthful features of Dick Grayson.
"You should talk to the boy again, Batman, and confront him with this information. He'll try to lie his way out of it, I'm sure, but the kid wears his emotions on his sleeve. You'll see what I'm talking about if you just start with this information."
"Yes, Mr. Mercer, we will see. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me."
The words were low but full of anger. Abruptly, the Caped Crusader stood up and exited the office. As he strode to the Batmobile, he couldn't help but hear the principal's accusation:
"He's a bully, Batman…"
Two hours later:
Dick was picking at his dinner and Bruce was staring at him. He didn't know how to start the conversation but knew he needed to do it soon. Sam Mercer's statements had been reverberating around Batman's head since he had left the school and he needed answers.
"He told you I was lying, didn't he?" Dick suddenly asked quietly. "He said I'm the one who starts fights and nobody else would ever do anything like this, right? I'm the troublemaker, the bully, that's what he said, isn't it?"
Bruce could hear the thick emotion in his ward's voice. He could also see the shaking hands and trembling bottom lip of the nine-year-old.
"Didn't he?!" Dick shouted, startling Bruce.
"Yes."
"And you believe him, don't you? Nobody would ever believe some circus freak who can't control his anger. Why should you? I've only been here for one month, you hardly know anything about me."
"Dick, I trust you. But Mr. Mercer was very convincing. I want to believe you but I just…"
"Mr. Mercer told you this?!" Dick yelled, disbelief clearly woven through the words. Shoving his chair away from the table, the boy stood up and threw his arms in the air.
"I thought it was only my teacher but he's got the principal in on it, too?! Well, of course you have to believe the principal. He would never lie! Fine, Bruce, I'll take the punishment. I just won't say anything anymore and let everyone do whatever they want to me. If Mr. Mercer says I'm the bully then it has to be true. I'm done, may I be excused?"
The question was snarled and Bruce was in shock. He didn't know what to think anymore, everything was contradictory and nothing made any sense. Why would the principal lie about something like this but, conversely, why would Dick lie?
"No, Dick, we need to figure this out," Bruce replied. "Sit down."
The boy didn't move so Bruce sharply repeated the command.
Dick flopped onto his chair and swept a hand across his still-bruised cheek. There was no way Bruce was going to believe him. And now he was going to be sent to the detention center, where they had wanted him to go in the first place. Somehow, he had screwed everything up. If he hadn't received the black eye, none of this would have happened. Next time he would duck or try to block or something. But, there wouldn't be a next time so he tossed the image away.
"I need the truth, kiddo," the man stated quietly.
"I told you the truth!" the boy declared, frustration clearly evident in his tone. "But it doesn't matter, just send me away. According to Mr. Jerkins I deserve the detention center so just…"
Dick couldn't finish. A knot filled his throat and a heavy ball of despair made his breath catch in his chest.
"Why would I send you to the detention center, Dick?" Bruce asked, his tone full of surprise.
"Because I'm a bully, right?" the nine-year-old whispered as tears began coursing down his cheeks. "Just get it over with, send me tonight. I can't stay when you look like that."
"Like what, kiddo?"
"Disappointed."
"Dick, I'm not…I don't know…help me out here."
"How?! How am I supposed to help you when I've told you everything but you don't know whether or not to believe me?! Did you even talk to Mr. Jerkins?!"
"Which one?"
"Which…? Oh, you mean the criminal guy. No, not him. His brother, the nice one who loves all the kids and wouldn't ever do anything to hurt anybody. The one who is always smiling and does magic tricks and is so friendly and doesn't even look dangerous. Yeah, that guy."
"No, I didn't think…"
"Of course you didn't think to talk to him, he's nice to everybody. EXCEPT ME!" Dick interrupted. The last two words were shouted and caused Alfred to rush into the room.
"Master Dick, Master Bruce!"
"Sorry, Alfred, but I guess this is goodbye," Dick stated as he glanced at the butler before dropping his eyes to the ground.
"Goodbye…?"
Bruce sighed. "No, Dick, I'm not sending you away. I'll talk to the other guy."
"Not as Batman," Dick retorted. "Mr. Mercer knows that Batman now knows the 'truth' about Dick Grayson. The little circus freak who turned into a bully and loses fights all the time because he's so small."
Dick's tone was bitter now and Alfred was staring at Bruce in disbelief.
The silence was overwhelming and awkward. Dick's head was in his hands and Bruce had unconsciously folded his arms across his chest.
Alfred quietly walked to Bruce's side and leaned down.
"Bat-cameras might help this situation, sir," he whispered in the man's ear.
With a curt nod, Bruce stood up. Dick didn't acknowledge the movement at all. The man roughly ran a hand through his own hair, completely frustrated with the situation.
"I'm going downstairs, kiddo, if you want to join me."
Dick knew that 'downstairs' meant the Batcave but he wasn't going to go anywhere with anyone right now. He still didn't move so Bruce sighed and left the dining room, headed for his study.
"Master Dick," Alfred began but the boy abruptly stood up and walked away.
With a quiet sigh of his own, the butler began clearing the table. He could hear Dick stomping up the stairs and hoped that the boy was going to lie down. It was obvious that the nine-year-old needed to rest.
Dick, however, had other ideas. He didn't want to see the disappointment on Bruce's face when the man dropped him off at the detention center. Therefore, he was going to leave before that could happen.
He walked into his room and grabbed his backpack off the floor. The school books and notes and pencil box were tossed out, landing haphazardly on the desk and ground. Clothes replaced the school items; he was able to stuff two pairs of jeans and three shirts in before zipping it up.
Swinging the bag over his right shoulder, Dick carefully peeked out the door. Nobody was around – he could hear Alfred humming in the kitchen – so he crept down the stairs. He made it to the door but realized that the butler would hear it open and close. Moving into the living room, he quietly opened the French doors that led to the garden. With one last glance behind him, Dick strode outside and ran toward the back gate. It opened into a large forest; Bruce wouldn't be able to find him for a while, if at all.
In the Batcave, Batman noticed a small movement from the Bat-camera near the south side of Wayne Manor. He realized that the French doors were open, which was very unusual since the night air was calm. Then there was another movement: a small body racing across the lawn toward the back gate. Dick was about to get himself lost in the gigantic forest that stretched six square miles beyond the gates of the Manor.
Batman flew to the Batmobile and roared out through the tunnel. He wouldn't be able to maneuver the vehicle through the dense trees, but at least he would get to the forest before Dick had a chance to vanish into the shadows.
Dick heard the roar of the Batmobile as he entered the edge of the forest. He knew it was too big to traverse the trees but he also knew that Batman was fast. A quick decision was made and the boy shrugged off his backpack as he began sprinting. One set of clothing would have to do, even though his jeans and sweatshirt would wear out quickly in the upcoming winter. But he was faster without the backpack and speed was more important right now.
The trees became unfamiliar – he had never been this far into the forest. However, he could hear Batman crashing through the shrubbery so he took off in the opposite direction. Dick knew he could dart through small spaces that the larger Batman would have to go around, which gave him a slight advantage. But Batman had longer strides and could easily jump over fallen trees that Dick would have to climb over, which negated the boy's advantage.
"Dick, don't do this! We can work this out!"
Ignoring the words and slightly frantic tone of voice, Dick vaulted over a small log and somehow increased his speed. He was too much trouble for Bruce, the man shouldn't have to be trying to decide if the principal of a school was lying. Mr. Jerkins was right, Dick Grayson was a troublemaker and didn't belong there. Or anywhere, for that matter. Everyone would be better off without him.
The thoughts rumbling around in his mind distracted him and the nine-year-old tripped over a small boulder. The stumble sent him tumbling to the ground and his world went dark.
Batman could hear, just barely, the swishing of leaves that was the result of a small pair of shoes dashing through them. Dick was fast but he was also small. The Caped Crusader was confident that he would soon catch up to the boy. But, just in case…
"Dick, don't do this! We can work this out!"
The man was surprised at the sound of his voice. He sounded almost…panicked? But Batman never panicked, Batman was always confident and proud and emotionless. Bruce Wayne, however, was frantic. Dick was going to be lost, gone forever, all because Batman didn't know who to believe.
A quiet 'thud' echoed in front of him and Batman sped up. He leapt over a boulder and almost landed on a small silhouette lying motionless on the ground. Whipping his Bat-flashlight out of his utility belt, the hero shined it on the limp form. There was blood near his head but Batman could tell that it was a superficial wound.
Sighing in both relief and consternation, the Caped Crusader replaced the Bat-flashlight in his utility belt, bent down and scooped up his young ward. Somehow the boy had made it two and a half miles into the forest in just under ten minutes. That was impressive, even to Batman.
"Let's go home, kiddo. I'll figure this out, I promise. Batman always keeps his promises."