Dunton's house – two hours earlier:
"Jasper," Matilda called, "Greg's coming over in two hours. Get the kid out of the basement so we can clean him up!"
The man grumbled but opened the basement door and strode down the steps.
"Get up, kid," he growled at the motionless body.
Dick didn't move so Jasper picked him up and marched back up the stairs to the family room. The boy didn't even stir the entire time, even though his body was bouncing in the man's arms.
"He must have hit his head," Jasper stated, laying Dick down on the couch.
"Obviously," Matilda said, shaking her head. "There's dried blood all over his head and a goose egg the size of Gotham City on the back. Go get some ice."
Jasper grumbled again but went to the kitchen to get some ice. Matilda went to her bathroom to get a washcloth, which she soaked with warm water. The adults returned at the same time. Dick was still unconscious.
"You shouldn't have pushed him, Jasper," the woman scolded lightly.
"You saw how disrespectful he was being!" the man retorted.
Nodding in agreement, Matilda sat on the couch and motioned for Jasper to sit the boy up. Then she began carefully cleaning off the small pool of dried blood that was matting his hair. It took nearly fifteen minutes to get it completely clean. They changed his shirt – there was blood on the shoulder – and then the woman held the ice against the back of Dick's head.
The feeling of the frozen liquid startled the boy into consciousness. He gasped and his eyes flew open. Matilda pulled him onto her lap, cradling his head against her shoulder and gently rocking side to side.
"You fell down the stairs," she commented.
Dick was very confused. He didn't remember opening the basement door, much less falling down the stairs. He was also dizzy, and nauseous, and had a headache the size of Wayne Manor. The ten-year-old's cheek was still sore and his body was still hot. His skin felt taut and stretched to its limit, the result of not receiving any healing ministrations on his sunburn.
"Right?" Matilda suddenly asked.
"I…did?" Dick answered, bewilderment filling his voice.
"Yes, and you still don't know how to be polite." Sighing dramatically, she said, "We'll just have to continue your lessons after Mr. Makov leaves."
"Mr. Makov? Ma'am?"
"Yes, he's coming over in a little over an hour for a routine visit."
Dick was suddenly happy that his head hurt and his skin was hot and his eye was swollen. Mr. Makov was coming, he would see what was going on!
Jasper was now kneeling in front of the boy, holding up a small bag of frozen vegetables.
"This goes on your eye, to get the swelling down."
Dick shook his head and the motion almost made him throw up.
Jasper was tired of the behavior so he grabbed the boy's wrists. Keeping them in place, he pushed the package against the eye that had a dark strip of purple underneath it.
"His jaw is swollen, too," Matilda commented. "You had to do it all on the same…"
"It's a good thing I did," Jasper countered. "When he fell down the stairs, he hit that side of his face on the floor. Or the stairs or wall or something."
"No…no, I didn't," Dick whispered.
There was still confusion in his voice but he remembered a strong hand shoving him in the back.
"Yes, you did," Matilda snapped. "And if you say any differently, you're going to be in big trouble. Got it?!"
"But Mr. Makov…"
"Wants to see a happy child," the woman interrupted. "Which is what you are, right?"
"No," Dick whispered defiantly.
He wasn't going to tell Mr. Makov that he was happy, especially not with the way he was feeling.
Jasper yanked the boy out of Matilda's arms. Standing him up, the man roughly slammed his fist into Dick's ribcage.
"Yes, you are," he snarled as the ten-year-old dropped to his knees, gasping. "Because if you don't, there's more where that came from."
Now Dick was scared. He knew what a fractured rib felt like from his time with Mr. Jerkins. This felt worse than that, a lot worse. There had been no cracking sound but the boy felt like he would never be able to breathe normally again.
"Jasper, now is not the time," Matilda said angrily. "Makov's probably on his way."
The man growled, but nodded and pulled Dick up to his feet.
"What are you going to say to Makov, kid?" he growled.
"That I'm happy here," Dick immediately replied, his voice trembling from both pain and fear. "Sir," he quickly added.
"Dick," Matilda said as she stood up, "all you have to do is be good and we'll all be happy. Just be polite and do what you're told. Okay?"
"Yes, ma'am," the ten-year-old whispered.
"Good," she nodded in satisfaction. "Now, come hold this ice on your head and eye. I need to get ready for Mr. Makov."
Dick obediently sat on the couch and accepted both the ice and the package of vegetables. He pushed them against his head and nearly threw up again.
"Um, ma'am?" he ventured timidly.
Matilda was already walking away but she stopped and turned around. Glaring at him, she motioned for him to speak.
"I don't feel so good. Ma'am. I need to…I think I'm…"
He suddenly gagged and his body heaved. Jasper was still there so he grabbed Dick around the midsection, threw him over his shoulder and quickly headed for the backyard. They got there just in time.
Jasper put him down on the rocks and weeks. Dick immediately dropped to his knees and threw up. There wasn't much there but he spent nearly a minute pouring his stomach onto the rocks.
When he was done, Jasper picked him up again and took him to the bathroom.
"Clean yourself up and go put on some different clothes," he commanded. "I have to go change, too, now. Idiot," the man mumbled as he walked away.
"Mr. Makov will be here soon, Dick, so hurry up!" Matilda called from somewhere down the hall.
Dick knew if Mr. Makov saw him in this state, he might take Dick away right now. But if he believed Jasper and Matilda, he wouldn't and Dick would get in 'big trouble'. And he really didn't want to feel Jasper's bony fist anywhere on his body ever again.
So, he rinsed out his mouth and used water-soaked fingers to straighten his messy hair. There was nothing he could do about his eye or jaw; both were slightly swollen and bruised.
Matilda was suddenly behind him, holding something in her hand. She gently took his arm and turned him around. Taking the top off of whatever it was she had, the woman leaned in toward Dick and put a hand on his head.
"Hold still so I can fix you up," she commanded lightly.
It was makeup, Dick realized. Matilda was using her makeup to cover up the bruises. He thought about ducking under her arm and leaving but his ribs reminded him that he should just do what he was told.
Thirty seconds later, the woman was satisfied.
"Go change again," she said, moving back so he had room to get out.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied softly.
Dick went to his room and shut the door. He thought about wiping everything off, but his ribs again protested the idea. So, he changed his clothes and returned to the family room. Matilda was sitting on the couch and she waved him over. Just then, the doorbell rang and Jasper walked to the door.
"Mr. Makov, come on in," the man said with a smile. "Right on time, as usual."
"Good afternoon, Jasper, how are you?"
"I'm fine, Greg, but you're not here to ask about my situation," he replied, the smile plastered on his face. "Dick was just reading a book but he politely put it away when he heard your car. Have a seat."
He motioned to the chair opposite the couch where Matilda and Dick were sitting. The woman had her arm wrapped around the boy. Greg lowered himself onto the chair and studied the ten-year-old. He looked fine, although his eyes were a little red. But that was to be expected after all the crying he had been doing. And Bruce Wayne had said something about nightmares.
"Hey, Dick, how are you doing?" Greg asked.
Dick stared straight at him and whispered, "Fine, sir."
"You've been reading, that's good. Keeps the mind sharp," the man said with a grin.
He was trying to put the boy at ease. There was some emotion in Dick's eyes that he couldn't quite decipher. Greg chalked it up to sorrow, but filed it away to ponder on later.
"Yes, sir," Dick replied. "I like to read."
"I see you're fitting in just fine. It looks like Mrs. Dunston is a good cuddler."
Dick's eyes flicked to his right side, where Matilda was sitting, then returned his gaze to Greg's eyes.
"Yes, sir," the ten-year-old stated quietly.
"So, what kinds of things have you been doing?" Greg asked. "Besides reading."
"I, um, built some lego houses."
"You like legos?"
"Yes, sir," Dick replied, although really he thought they were kind of boring.
His voice was outlined with sadness so Matilda pulled him into a gentle hug, squeezing his arm just enough to help him remember that he was happy here.
"I built a car, too," he continued, although the car had become the Bat-computer. "Sir," he added, feeling Matilda's gaze on his face.
"Were you playing outside for a little while without sunscreen?" Greg asked.
He had noticed the dark pink tint on Dick's skin. Usually the Dunstons thought of things like that so he was a little surprised.
"Uh, yeah, but it was my fault."
There was a short hesitation as Dick's intelligent mind worked quickly to come up with a plausible lie.
"Mrs. Dunston was, um, making lunch and I didn't think to ask her. I just went outside."
"And where was Mr. Dunston?"
"Um, in his bedroom working on something," the boy lied again. "Sir."
"Well, after I leave have Mrs. Dunston show you where the sunscreen is so you can remember to put it on next time. We don't want you to get an unhealthy sunburn."
"Yes, sir," Dick agreed softly. "It was my fault, all my fault."
"It's okay so…kid…Dick," Greg stumbled, almost forgetting the boy's requests regarding nicknames. "We all forget things once in a while."
"Yes, sir."
This was very unusual. Of all the kids Greg had placed with the Dunstons, Dick was the only one who had ever hesitated when using sir and ma'am. The other kids had all been teenagers, though, so maybe that was part of it. Maybe he just needed more time to get used to it. Or maybe something else was going on.
A tiny particle of suspicion began wiggling around in the back of Greg's mind. This was not the boy he had talked to last week. Dick had been sullen and rude and very reluctant to talk. The boy in front of him, however, was polite and answering every question without hesitation. Except for that one flicker of his gaze.
"Jasper, Matilda, I'd like to speak to the boy alone, please."
Nodding, the two adults stood up. Before she did, Matilda squeezed Dick's arm one more time. It was more of a rough pinch and he gave her a tiny nod. They exited the room and went into the kitchen.
"Dick, let's go sit on the front porch," Greg suggested.
The boy's eyes widened slightly but then he slowly stood up. He walked carefully to the front door that Greg was holding open. Walking made him dizzy and the fact that he almost walked into the edge of the wall did not go unnoticed by Greg.
"Okay, Dick, how are you really doing?"
"Fine, I'm fine, sir."
"You seem…different. From the time we last talked, I mean."
"Well, um, you were right, sir. They are, um, nice and they've taught me a lot."
"Like what?"
"Uh, just stuff."
That was too vague to let go but Greg decided to let it go anyway. The man also noticed that Dick's eyes sometimes darted around, and they were darker than the light-blue he had seen a few days ago. But his eyes had held Greg's in the house, except for that one flicker of his gaze when Greg had commented on Matilda's cuddling. That, for some unknown reason, was sticking to the front of the man's mind.
"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
YES!
Dick screamed the thought in his mind but carefully shook his head. A tear flew out of his eye with the motion and he hoped Mr. Makov hadn't seen it. The man had seen the liquid but couldn't tell if it was sweat or a tiny tear. He filed that away, also, to ponder later.
"Well, I guess we're done then. You look like you're doing okay…"
"I miss Bruce and Alfred," Dick interrupted, desperation leaking from his voice.
"I know you do, Dick, and they asked me to tell you the same thing. But I have to make sure you will be safe."
"Safer than here," the boy mumbled, so quietly that Greg was sure he had misheard it.
"Are you sure there's nothing else you want to say?" the man asked, his voice gentle.
Greg couldn't figure out the emotion in the boy's eyes and it was frustrating him. Dick looked like he wanted to say some more things but was locking it all away.
"No, sir, I'm…fine," he stammered.
Please don't leave.
Dick was begging in his mind and he allowed a little bit of fear to creep into his eyes. Not too much, but just enough that maybe Mr. Makov would reconsider this horrible decision he had made.
Was that…fear? Greg was a little confused. Dick was saying all the right things so he had no reason to be scared. A lightbulb went off in the man's mind. He was seeing very mixed emotions: determination and desperation and, now, fear. Dick, he realized, had very expressive eyes. Was he using them as a warning or was he just afraid that he would never be allowed to return to Wayne Manor?
Batman was completely silent, almost not even breathing, straining to hear every word. The conversation was pleasant but the hero immediately heard something strange. Dick would never cuddle a stranger after only three and a half days. He was very timid around people he didn't know and wouldn't be in the 'cuddling' arms of someone he had just met. And why was he saying 'sir' almost every time he spoke?
How bad was the sunburn? Why hadn't the woman noticed that Dick was going outside? She should have immediately reminded him to use sunscreen. And why had Dick hesitated before telling Greg why he hadn't used sunscreen?
And then there was his voice. To anyone else, Dick sounded perfectly normal, although a little shy with all the whispering he was doing. Batman, however, was not 'anyone else'. There was fear but also courage. An unusual mix of emotions, and they were so contradictory. Dick was hiding something, and he was doing it very well.
Batman heard Makov ask the adults to leave so he silently crept away from the window and down the steps of the porch. He heard the sound of a door opening so he moved to the eastern side of the house. Dick and Greg were on the porch, and Greg was asking for honesty.
Clearly the man had some doubts about this situation. And out here, away from the 'nice family', Dick's voice was full of desperation and outlined with pain. It was obvious, to Batman, but he couldn't tell if Greg could hear it. Something was going on. Bruce and Batman had heard terror and frustration and sorrow and anger but never desperation.
Greg was getting ready to leave but Batman was thinking about staying. Now he could hear an edge of panic and Dick was practically begging when he stammered out that he was fine.
Batman made a different decision and sprinted away. He was going to come back tonight and stop whatever was happening. The hero couldn't be out here in broad daylight, in a civilian car with no plausible excuse. So, he was going to return to the Batcave, find out as much as he could about the Dunstons, and make something happen in this neighborhood that would cause Commissioner Gordon to call on the services of Batman.
Greg Makov, deciding that was all he would get today, finally left. Dick reluctantly went inside. Jasper and Matilda were waiting, arms folded across their chests and bodies tense.
"What did you say?" Jasper demanded.
"That everything was fine, sir. He asked if I had anything else to say and I said everything was fine."
Jasper nodded and sat down on the couch. Matilda joined him and Dick, just like his first night there, didn't know what to do.
"Go do something, kid," Jasper commanded. "Stop staring at us like that."
"Sorry, sir, I wasn't…I didn't mean to stare. I just wasn't sure if you…"
With a loud sigh, Matilda said, "Dick, just go play or read or have a snack. It's not our job to entertain you. The only reason you're here is because we need the money."
"Um, isn't it almost dinner time?" Dick asked softly.
"This is ridiculous," the woman muttered. "To the kitchen. Paper and pencil on the table, go do your work so you can learn to be polite. One hundred times each, got it?"
"Yes, ma'am," the ten-year-old replied.
"You can have dinner if you get done with that before we're done eating. And I want to be able to read every word – no chicken scratch. GO!"
The last word was a command so Dick went. Sighing, he sat at the kitchen table and began to write.
The Batcave:
"Jasper and Matilda Dunston, ages fifty-seven and fifty-five, respectively. No children, no pets, no arrests, not even a parking or speeding ticket," Batman growled as he flipped through several pages that he had received from the Bat-computer. "The perfect 'nice family' for foster children."
"From the social services records, I have them listed as foster parents for eleven – now twelve – children at various times. Never more than one at a time and all teenagers. Master Dick is the youngest one to be placed with them, sir."
"How old is the next youngest?"
"Fourteen, Master Batman."
"That's a big age difference."
"Indeed, sir."
"One car, registered in both names, house completely paid off – unusual for a couple in their fifties – one checking account and one savings account. Less than one hundred dollars in checking and the minimum twenty-five dollars in savings."
"You…checked their bank accounts, Master Batman?!"
"Of course! I have to find out what's going on so I need all the background information I can get. They've never owed on taxes, Jasper had his own business for a while but is now on unemployment. Matilda is on disability, something about an accident in a factory."
"How does a couple with so few assets have the resources to foster children throughout most of their adult lives, sir?"
"Well, they get money from the state for fostering. Maybe that keeps them afloat."
"Perhaps that's the only thing, sir. Perhaps they live check to check until Mr. Makov gives them a child. And perhaps, sir, the Dunstons are his go-to couple in an emergency."
"Why in an emergency, Alfred?"
"Don't you think, Master Batman, that a social worker would want the children in his care closer to his office? The Dunstons are almost an hour away. But if there is no room in any childrens' homes, I highly doubt that Mr. Makov would place a child in the detention center, sir. He does not strike me as an uncaring man."
"I thought about that earlier," Batman agreed. "You're right, maybe there was no room anywhere else and Greg was nice enough not to send Dick to the detention center."
There was a long pause as both men pondered what they had learned so far.
"It's a nice street, Alfred, and a quiet neighborhood. I looked at the crime reports and there has never been any type of call to the police or fire department or anything."
"Then you will have no excuse for being there, sir, making your actions suspicious. Therefore, we shall make something happen."
"What?" Batman asked, surprise in his tone. "How?"
"I'm not sure, Master Batman, but we need to figure it out before nightfall."
"That's less than two hours, Alfred."
"Then we should get to work, sir."