Two hours later:
It had taken almost half an hour but Dick had finished his writing. Jasper and Matilda hadn't even come out to make dinner yet.
"The Bat-signal!" Jasper suddenly shouted from the family room, startling the ten-year-old.
Matilda rushed into the kitchen to prepare dinner, Jasper grabbed the flashlight and went down the basement stairs, and Dick stood up and looked out the kitchen window. He was disappointed; he was on the wrong side of the house to see the Bat-signal.
Jasper was suddenly back, three books cradled in the crook of his left elbow. Matilda placed three bowls on the table and sloshed some kind of soup in each one. The man rushed to deposit the books in the family room while the woman grabbed Dick's arm and brought him back to the table.
"Eat your soup," she demanded, "and do it quickly."
The slop was disgusting but Dick was hungry. It didn't take him long to finish the bowl. Matilda, while she was eating, had examined the boy's writing. She was disappointed to find no flaws anywhere.
"Did you learn a lesson today, Dick?" she asked.
Dick nodded and watched her eyebrows raise in an expression of disbelief.
"Yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am," he instantly replied.
With a nod of her own, Matilda continued, "And what did you learn?"
"I learned to be polite, ma'am."
"And?" she encouraged with a wave of her hand.
"And to call everyone 'sir' and 'ma'am'."
"And?"
Dick wracked his brain but came up with nothing else. She had impressed upon him the importance of using those words but he couldn't think of anything else he might have learned. So, he decided to use what he had learned from Jasper.
"Um, I learned that I need to always obey. Ma'am."
Jasper chuckled, then said, "You got just a little taste of my lesson, kid."
"I'll obey, sir, I'll do whatever you say," Dick replied quickly.
"We'll see," the man stated, a slight warning tone in his voice.
Just then, for the second time in less than five hours, the doorbell rang.
Half an hour earlier:
They had decided to do something quick. Instead of trying to make something happen, Alfred called in an anonymous tip about someone walking through the neighborhood leaving frozen bushes in his wake.
The dispatcher called the police and the officer at the desk, when he heard the description of the man, sent the call straight to Commissioner Gordon's office. The commissioner immediately used the Batphone but nobody answered. He nodded to Chief O'Hara, who rushed to the roof and turned on the Bat-signal.
And there it was. Batman waited one long minute then picked up the Batphone extension in the Batmobile.
"Batman, thank heavens!" the commissioner exclaimed. "We think Mr. Freeze has returned to Gotham City! There's been an anonymous tip about someone fitting his description. It came from Blackmoor Road, just outside the city limits!"
"I'll take care of it, Commissioner."
Batman began driving and counted to seven. As soon as he said 'seven' the Bat-signal flickered then disappeared. With a slight grin – Dick had figured that one out – the Caped Crusader headed toward Blackmoor Road.
It had taken almost an hour in Alfred's car, which meant the Batmobile made it there in just over thirty minutes. Batman didn't bother stopping at any other house. He went straight to the Dunston's, creating a story in his mind. After parking the Batmobile, the Caped Crusader climbed out, walked to the door, and rang the bell.
Matilda grabbed Dick's arm again and rushed him into the family room. She settled them on the couch and gave the boy a paperback book before opening her own. Dick glanced at the title, "Modern Warfare in the Dark Ages". An idea popped into his mind. He quickly flipped it upside down, glancing at the woman and hoping she hadn't noticed. Then he held it up in one hand, opened it, and began pretending to read.
Jasper, meanwhile, laid the third book on the table by the chair where Greg Makov had been sitting earlier. Taking a deep breath, he strode to the door and opened it.
"Batman?" he asked, confusion in his voice. "How can I help you?"
And then Dick heard one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard – Batman's voice.
"There has been a report of some suspicious activity in this neighborhood. I'm merely here to make sure everyone is safe. May I come in?"
Jasper glanced back at Matilda, who curved her arm around Dick and gave a slight nod.
"Of course, Batman, come right in."
Opening the door wider, Jasper stepped back. The commanding figure of the Caped Crusader entered the room and Dick internally cheered.
"Good evening," Batman greeted Matilda cordially. "Sorry to interrupt, but Commissioner Gordon asked me to check the neighborhood."
"No problem at all, Batman," the woman replied kindly. "We were just reading."
Batman looked pointedly at Dick and Matilda quickly stated, "This is our foster son, Richard."
"Hello, Richard," Batman said, the name sounding awkward coming from his mouth.
"Hello," Dick replied softly. Matilda squeezed his arm and he quickly added, "Sir."
Crouching down in front of his ward, Batman stared into the boy's eyes. Dick's pupils were dilated, that was the first thing he noticed. It was obvious that he couldn't focus on Batman for more than three seconds, no matter how hard he tried. And Batman could see him trying. But his eyes would cloud over, or dart away and then return.
"How are you doing, kiddo?" the hero asked softly.
"I'm fine, sir, thank you," Dick replied, keeping his voice neutral.
"Good," Batman said as he stood up, even though he knew Dick was lying.
The boy had a concussion – although Batman wasn't sure about the severity – and he was holding his book upside down. That was on purpose, the hero knew. Even a concussed Dick would know which way he needed to hold a book in order to read it. It was a clue, in case Batman couldn't get any closer than the door.
Dick had only said seven words but every single one had pain woven through it. The left side of his face looked slightly swollen, but it could be just the lighting. There was also a tiny hitch in his breathing, so quiet that only Superman, Batman, and probably Alfred would know it was there.
"Is there anything else, Batman?" Jasper asked, his voice impatient.
"It's the boy's bedtime," Matilda said smoothly, shooting a glare at her husband.
"No, thank you, I just want to make sure the neighborhood is safe."
"Do you want something to drink, sir?" Dick suddenly blurted out.
All three adults were startled, although none of them showed it. Jasper, who was behind Batman, narrowed his eyes. The boy was trying to get the hero to stay longer. That was unacceptable, and he would be learning that after Batman left.
"How very polite of you, Dick," Matilda said through clenched teeth. "We have water, Batman, if you would like a drink."
The Caped Crusader tilted his head slightly to the right, considering the request. What was Dick trying to tell him?
"I'll get it, sir," Dick offered, standing up. "It's kind of hot outside."
Matilda grabbed his hand and Dick quickly added, "Sir."
Dick wanted Batman to watch him walk away. He wanted him to see the way he stumbled over nothing and was hoping that he would get so dizzy he would either fall down or walk into a wall.
"I appreciate…" Batman began but Matilda interrupted.
"Dick, honey, sit down, I'll get it."
The woman disappeared around the corner and returned ten seconds later. She handed Batman a cup of luke-warm water. He nodded his thanks and drained the cup without taking his eyes off Dick. The ten-year-old was staring at the ground, his hands clasped so tightly in his lap that they were trembling.
"Can I, uh, see the Batmobile, sir?" Dick tried again.
"Dick," Matilda gently scolded, "Batman is a busy man. And it's your bedtime."
Jasper stepped around Batman and took the empty cup.
"Thanks for stopping by to check on us. I hope you catch whatever suspicious fellow you're looking for."
The man gestured toward the open door. Batman clenched his hands into fists and thought about refusing to go. But there was no valid reason to do so and he didn't want them to tell Greg Makov that Batman was hanging around for no reason. Greg might think that Bruce Wayne had asked Batman to check on Dick, which would open a whole new can of worms that might make the investigation last even longer.
So, Batman softly growled, "I will, you can be sure of that."
Whirling around, the Caped Crusader walked out the door and returned to the Batmobile. Climbing in, he revved the engine and pulled away. He made a U-turn and sped off into the dark. Three minutes later, the Batmobile was parked around the corner at the end of the street and Batman was racing through backyards, just as he had done earlier in the day.
Jasper closed the door and waited for the sound of the engine to fade away. Then he motioned to Matilda, who sat down by Dick. The boy was staring at the ground, rubbing his aching head with one hand.
Crouching down in front of them, Jasper grabbed Dick's chin and roughly lifted the boy's head. He studied the blue eyes, just as Batman had, and realized that if he could see the dilation and lack of focus, then the Caped Crusader certainly had. But Batman didn't know the kid, so maybe he had assumed that Dick's eyes looked like that all the time.
"You wanted him to stay," the man snarled. "Why?"
"He's, um, Batman, sir."
Matilda hummed in agreement. All the boys she had ever taken care of had always wanted to meet Batman. The man was rather impressive, and young boys were usually obsessed with heroes. As far as she knew, anyway. She had never had a ten-year-old.
"No, you offered to go get him a drink. That's not wanting to meet him, that's wanting to show him something. What were you going to show him?"
Dick suddenly realized that Jasper was smarter than he had given the man credit for. Jasper roughly shook the boy's head, increasing the already pounding headache, and repeated his question.
"I don't…I just thought he might be thirsty," the ten-year-old moaned softly. "Sir."
"You're lying," Jasper snapped. "You think I didn't notice that you were holding the book upside down?!"
"Dick!" Matilda gasped. "Why on earth were you doing that?"
He had an idea but it didn't come out quite the way he wanted it to.
"I already know side up practice down harder read."
"What?" both adults asked loudly.
Dick squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again. His thoughts were foggy, he couldn't even remember what he had just said. Jasper's face became blurry and Matilda's voice, right next to his ear, sounded like it was underwater.
Jasper took the matter into his own hands. He pulled Dick to his feet and slapped him across the face again. On the same side as he had before. The hit forced the clouds away and Dick recognized the fact that he was in trouble.
"It was a clue," Jasper growled. "You were trying to tell Batman something."
"No," Dick mumbled. "Can't think straight."
"Well, you could certainly think straight when you tried to give him a clue!" the man countered loudly.
"Shhhhhhhhh," Dick slurred, grabbing his aching head.
"Oh, for pete's sake," Matilda snapped. "I don't know if you're even worth the money."
"What do you think, Dickie-boy?" Jasper asked. "Are you worth it?"
"Yes, um, I don't know, uh, yes, sir?"
Dick was lost in a sea of confusion. The man had said something about a boy worth it but what was 'it'? The world began spinning and the ten-year-old stumbled sideways. He hit a wall and slid to the ground. But Jasper was immediately in his face, pulling him up again.
"In your room, kid," he snarled, shoving the boy toward the hall.
He was swaying and trembling and wanted to throw up again. The door to his room was open but he misjudged the trajectory and ran straight into the edge of it. Dick's forehead felt wet and he wondered when he had put water on it. Something red dripped onto his hand, confusing him even more.
Jasper had seen him run into the door but didn't know about the injury. Chuckling, he shoved the boy inside.
"Idiot, can't even walk straight," the man muttered as he shut the door and left.
Dick saw the mattress and tried to get there. But his one step took him down to his knees. The rough landing knocked him forward, and he landed face-down on the hard floor.
Bruce.
That was the ten-year-old's last thought before he lost consciousness. A small, thin river of blood began slowly gliding away from his head. If Dick had been awake, he would have realized that he needed to stop the bleeding. But he wasn't, so he couldn't.
Batman arrived in the Dunston's backyard just in time to see Jasper enter the kitchen. Matilda was there, Jasper said something, she nodded, and then they went to the front of the house.
The Caped Crusader didn't waste any time. He hadn't been able to hear the words, but he was certain that Jasper had taken Dick to bed. Batman strode to the first window, just left of the kitchen door. It was shut tight, and the curtains were drawn.
He moved around the corner, following the wall until he came to the next window. It, too, was shut tight but there were no curtains. The window was unusually high up, but Batman was just tall enough to be able to look inside.
The only light was a thin strip of moonlight running right through the middle of the room. Dick was lying on the floor. There was no bed or even mattress, unless the Dunstons considered the flat material on the ground a mattress. But Dick wasn't even lying on that.
Batman tried pulling up the window, to no avail. He couldn't even get it open with his Bat-pick, Bat-knife, or his Locked Window Emergency Bat-opener. His next idea was to just bust the window open. Instead, he knocked on the glass. If Dick was okay, he would get up and come to the window to investigate. If the boy didn't move, Batman was going to break through the glass.
Apparently, Dick was okay. The boy moved his head, rolled onto his back, and stretched. Then he slowly pushed himself up to sitting. Batman knocked again, and Dick turned his head in the direction of the sound. His face ended up in shadow, so the Caped Crusader couldn't tell if there were any injuries.
"Dick," Batman said as loud as he dared, which was barely above a whisper. "Come here, chum, let me look at you."
The ten-year-old looked around his entire room then slowly crawled to the "mattress". He flopped onto his stomach and went to sleep. That's how it looked to Batman, anyway.
A soft noise woke him up, like somebody tapping on glass. Dick sluggishly blinked his eyes and rolled onto his back. His ribs protested the movement and the boy decided to find out how bad the damage was. He stretched, and immediately regretted the action when he felt his ribs grinding together.
The ten-year-old heard the noise again, so he slowly sat up and turned his head toward the sound. There was nobody in the room with him and only shadows dancing with the moonlight outside. Now he was hearing whispers. Slightly alarmed, Dick looked around his entire room. Still nobody – inside or outside.
Going to sleep felt like the best way to get rid of the noises. Plus, he was really dizzy and his entire body felt weak. Sleep would help that, also. Getting on his hands and knees, Dick carefully crawled to the mattress that was several feet away. The world was spinning wildly around, knocking him off balance and causing him to flop onto his stomach. With a groan, Dick closed his eyes and drifted back into the world of unconsciousness.
Neither Batman nor Dick noticed the thin film of blood now streaked across the floor.
The Batcave:
"He has a concussion, Alfred."
"That could have happened in my different ways, Master Batman."
"Why wouldn't they take him to a hospital?"
"Most people don't know the signs as we do, sir."
Batman was sitting on the chair in front of the Bat-computer, one hand clenched into a hard fist on the table.
"He said 'sir' all the time."
"I don't know what to say about that, Master Batman. Perhaps the Dunstons have impressed the importance of politeness upon him."
"He's already polite, he doesn't need it 'impressed' upon him!" Batman declared heatedly as he removed his cowl.
"Of course he is, sir, and I agree he does not. I really don't know what to think."
"He's sleeping on the floor, Alfred. The 'mattress' is a flimsy piece of material that I wouldn't even use as a sleeping bag."
"Master Bruce, he was moving when you saw him in his room, was he not?"
The younger man nodded and Alfred continued, "So, he is not dead and not injured so badly that he cannot move."
"He has a concussion, Alfred, did you not hear me?!"
"Of course I heard you, sir! But the fact that young Master Dick is showing signs of a concussion does not mean any of us can go breaking into the Dunston's house and whisking him away. What would Mr. Makov think if Batman swooped in and carried the boy off?"
"He would think I asked Batman to do it," Bruce replied with a sigh.
"Master Dick is alive and intact, sir. And you have an appointment with his case manager in," Alfred paused to check his watch, "a little less than ten hours. You need to go to bed, Master Bruce. Mr. Makov needs to meet with Bruce Wayne the parent, not Bruce Wayne the grumpy man who didn't get enough sleep."
With another sigh, Bruce nodded and stood up. The men went their separate ways – Bruce to the Bat-pole and Alfred to the service elevator – and went to bed. It was a long two hours before either man fell asleep.
Dunston's house – two in the morning:
Dick was screaming in terror. Jasper was startled awake but Matilda was already out of bed and rushing toward the boy's room.
"Dick!" Matilda called as she turned on the hall light. "It's okay, honey, I'm coming."
She ran into Dick's room. He was curled on his side, shaking, and his arms were wrapped around his shoulders. His eyes were squeezed shut and tears were leaking out of the closed lids. Matilda sat down and pulled the boy into her arms.
"Shhhh," she whispered soothingly. "It's okay, it was just a dream."
He heard a calming voice, but it wasn't the right one. The voice was feminine, meaning it definitely wasn't Bruce or Alfred. Dick continued crying loudly, refusing to let go of himself and refusing to snuggle into Matilda's warm arms. This wasn't right, she wasn't right.
"Bruce," he cried in a wobbly voice.
"No, sweetheart, it's Matilda. You don't need Bruce, I'm right here. Calm down."
Suddenly, Dick remembered where he was. He immediately forced himself to stop crying and rolled away from her.
"Thank heavens," the woman muttered as she stood up and left.
Dick's entire body was trembling. He needed to throw up, for what felt like the hundredth time, but forced it away. There was something on his face, something besides tears. Dick swiped a hand across his forehead and was alarmed when he saw a streak of red.
The moonlight was a square by his feet, and it was dancing on something. Slowly, Dick moved over and discovered that it was a small, shallow pool of blood. There was a trail that led from that pool straight back up to his pillow, where another, larger, pool was resting.
Now he was very alarmed. Dick didn't know how long he had been either unconscious or asleep, but now he knew why he was shaking so badly. As if in confirmation, several drops of red fell toward the ground, splashing into the pool below.
A sudden burst of adrenaline helped him get to his feet. Dick stumbled his way out the door, down the hallway, through the kitchen and into the bathroom. Flicking up the light switch, the ten-year-old examined himself in the mirror.
There was a shallow cut that stretched across his entire forehead. It was leaking blood, as he assumed it had been since he had received it. He didn't even know when he had received it. He realized that he didn't remember much of anything right now.
Clouds floated through his mind, framing fuzzy pictures that made no sense. Jasper had hit him but that shouldn't have created this cut. Unless the man had hit him with a knife, which didn't make sense because the slice wouldn't be this shallow.
Dick remembered holding a book upside down and wondered why he would do that. He had no memory of seeing or speaking to Batman. In fact, the upside book was the last thing he remembered.
"What's going on?!" Jasper roared from the hallway.
Dick whipped his head around, startled, and that sent his world tumbling. He tried to grab the sink to steady himself but missed and his body hit the wall hard. Strange shapes began floating throughout the room and a giant shadow came flying toward him.
"Matilda, he's bleeding!" Jasper called, making it to the bathroom just in time to catch Dick before he melted to the ground.
When Dick woke up, he found himself on the couch again. It was almost completely dark; the weak flicker of the outside streetlamp was the only thing piercing through the blackness. The Dunstons had cleaned and bandaged his wound then gone back to bed.
He was too tired to think about going to his room, so the ten-year-old closed his eyes and fell asleep.