Note: As usual, thanks to usagipoints for the review! :)
Dr. Thompkins' office – two days later:
"Everything looks good, Dick," Leslie stated as she finished her examination. "I won't need to see you again for either your bones or your brain unless something starts hurting again. "But, I do want you in for a check-up sometime in the near future. Unless…" she glanced at Bruce, "…you already have a doctor."
"Not one that can find out about some things," the millionaire answered. "So, I guess you're our new family physician. And I can't thank you enough for all you've done."
"Well, Dick, do you have any questions?" the woman asked.
"Yes."
He paused, trying to decide how to phrase the question. Leslie and Bruce waited patiently, assuming that it was something difficult for him to express.
"Um, never mind," the boy finally said.
"It's okay, Dick, I'll answer anything you want to know," Leslie assured him. "Whatever it is, you don't have to be afraid to ask."
"It's just…Bruce, don't get mad, okay?"
"I'll do my best, chum, but I can't guarantee anything if it has to do with them."
"Do you want him to leave?" the doctor asked gently.
"Um…"
"Not an option," Bruce declared.
"Bruce," Leslie began, "if he wants to talk about something, he needs to be able to do it without worrying about your reaction. He's had a rough couple of weeks."
"You think I don't know that?" the man replied sharply.
"Never mind!" Dick shouted. "Just forget it, I don't have any questions!"
"Dick," both adults said at the same time.
"No, Dr. Thompkins, I don't have any questions."
"Bruce, let him talk and leave a certain person out of this," Leslie commanded.
"That 'certain person' hasn't had a chance to talk to the people who did this. I need to know what he wants to know so I can discuss it with them," Bruce growled.
"If he doesn't want the 'certain person' to know then he shouldn't be forced to ask his question in front of you!" Leslie retorted heatedly.
"STOP!" Dick yelled again. "Just…stop. I'll ask the stupid question and then we can be done. If the 'certain person' you guys are discussing gets mad, I'll just deal with it."
"If that 'certain person' can just leave the room for a minute, you won't have to deal with his reaction," Leslie said, glancing at Dick. "Can you just be Bruce Wayne for now?" she asked, turning her gaze back to the man and glaring at him.
"Depends on the question," Bruce nearly growled, his glare matching the one radiating from her eyes.
"Bruce," Dick said softly, "I can already tell you it's a question you won't like. But, I really want to know the answer. Maybe just sit down and grab the arms of the chair and clench your jaw and glare and all that other stuff. Then, after Dr. Thompkins answers, we'll wait until you're a little calmer before we leave. Compromise?"
Silence reigned and everyone was uncomfortable with it.
"Fine, I'll just come back sometime with Alfred," the ten-year-old snapped. "Since you obviously can't be an adult and deal with something as simple as a question that I've already told you will make you mad."
Leslie stared at the boy in astonishment. Without batting an eye, he had basically just told Batman to 'grow up'. And that man now looked completely defeated.
"Fine," Bruce echoed angrily as he sat down on the nearest chair. "I'll just be furious over here while you guys talk about something I don't want to hear but am about to anyway."
"Thank you," Dick responded with a sigh of relief.
"What's your question, Dick?" Leslie asked, breaking the tense silence that was beginning to fill the room again.
"Could I have died? From the concussion, I mean."
From the corner, Bruce quietly growled and clenched the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Leslie glanced back with a glare and the man shifted his gaze to the ceiling. He used a dark Bat-glare on the offending tiles and waited for her answer.
"Well, that's a complicated question," she finally said. "Concussions aren't usually life-threatening. If they were, a lot of football players would already be dead."
She paused and glanced back at Bruce again, who was now ferociously contemplating the existence of a picture on the wall. His hands were still clenched and his jaw had chosen to do the same. She could practically hear his blood boiling with anger and decided that she wouldn't be surprised if steam started coming out of his ears.
"So…" Dick prompted impatiently.
"You fell down an entire flight of stairs, Dick," she answered with a sigh. "From the way you were acting when I first saw you last week, you were walking a fine line between concussion and brain damage. You should have received medical attention immediately. I don't think you could have died, but you could have lost a lot – memory, intelligence, motor skills, speech, among other things."
Complete silence reigned again as Dick thought that over.
"But I didn't, because I rebooted my brain."
"Obviously," Batman quietly snapped from his corner.
Ignoring the man, Dick continued, "In your professional opinion, would I be able to fight through pain if I were ever injured?"
"What do you mean?"
"Fight, you know, like protecting…myself."
The word 'myself' was a quick replacement for 'people in trouble'. Batman didn't need to hear that.
"Well, I have no knowledge of your fighting abilities, but I can say that you have a very high pain tolerance level."
"Let's say I've been trained to protect myself."
"Okay, but this is a bit unusual. However, with what I know about you, it is my professional opinion that if you were being attacked you would be able to protect yourself until you received an extreme injury."
"Like?"
Leslie glanced at Bruce again. He was giving her an exceptionally forceful Bat-glare, which she had never seen before and now knew why people feared it. The man was halfway out of his chair and struggling to stay there.
"Like?" Dick asked again.
"Perhaps we should stop this line of…"
"Ignore him and continue," the ten-year-old lightly commanded.
Sighing, Leslie said, "Like a broken bone or a weapon-inflicted wound or, obviously, a hit to the head that knocks you out. Among other things."
"Okay, thanks!"
Dick stood up and walked over to Batman. He stopped right in front of him and put a small hand on his shoulder. The man sat down but his body stayed tense.
"Now you have an unbiased opinion, Bruce. So just think about it."
"Not. An. Option."
"I'm a patient person, Bruce, so I can wait for you to make your final decision."
"Final decision already made," Batman growled through clenched teeth.
Leslie had no idea what was going on but she suddenly wished that she hadn't given her professional opinion about the topic.
"I'm going to fill out some paperwork," she said hastily as she rushed from the room.
"You do not have a choice in this, Dick," Batman growled again.
"I'm strong, I listen and usually obey, I've been trained and can continue to train soon, my pain tolerance level is high and I can withstand something that should have caused my death. And a professional just agreed with me. Not just any professional – a doctor. You just keep thinking about it and I'll just patiently wait."
"You're ten," the man snapped. "If I allowed you to do it, I would at least wait until you're old enough to handle yourself. Eighteen, maybe twenty, if I were to allow it."
Dick chuckled and Batman glared.
"I said if," the Caped Crusader declared tersely.
"Which is more than you've ever said before," the boy retorted with a smirk. "Ready to go home or do you need some more time?"
"Let's go, I have a date with a punching dummy or a training mat," the man nearly snarled as he stood up. "And I'm talking to Alfred about you," Batman threatened, attempting to calm down enough to walk out the door.
"Don't worry, I already have. He seems to be a little more open to the idea than you, but he still firmly shut me down."
"Then I'm definitely talking to him."
"We can all talk together, if you want. It might be easier than you asking him what I say about it and me asking him what you say about it."
"There is nothing to ask about because the answer is absolutely, positively, firmly, without a single doubt, NO!"
"Too late, you already said 'if'."
Bruce was happy to see the grin and the sparkle in his ward's eyes, but was upset about why it was there. There was no way Dick was going to become a crime-fighter. Ever. Even though the man had accidentally thrown out the word 'if'. As he had said to the boy earlier, it was not even an option.
Two days later – State Pen, midnight:
"Tell Warden Crichton 'thank you' because I'll be gone before he gets here in the morning."
"Of…of course, Batman," the young night guard at the desk agreed fearfully.
It was the rookie's first time meeting Batman, and the hero was as imposing and commanding as the twenty-three-year-old had been told. Even if Warden Crichton hadn't given permission, the young guard decided that he would have let the Caped Crusader in anyway. He was extremely grateful that he was on the right side of the law.
"Numbers?" Batman growled.
"Um, twenty-two in D for him and sixteen in B for her."
Without another word, Batman whirled around and strode away. The guard sighed in relief and dropped onto the nearest chair. He wondered if he would be seeing the hero often and, if so, if he would ever get used to the powerful man.
Three minutes later – block B number sixteen:
"Open it," Batman commanded and the guard patrolling block B instantly complied.
Matilda, startled out of a deep sleep by the creaking of her cell door, sat up in confusion. She was groggy, so she didn't immediately recognize the man who walked into her cell. But it only took her six seconds to grasp the amount of danger she was now in.
"Good evening, Matilda," Batman snarled. "How was your day?"
"Um…"
For the first time in her life, the woman was speechless. The hero was looming over her, much like Jasper had loomed over Dick, and she suddenly understood why criminals were afraid of this man.
"I heard there have been some things going on at your house for several years. Care to elaborate?"
His voice was cold and calculating. Matilda pushed herself back but hit the wall behind her bed after only a foot of movement. Bringing her knees up as close to her chest as she could, the woman wrapped her arms around her legs and stared up at Batman defiantly.
"I…don't know what you're, uh, talking a…about," she stammered.
"Really?" Batman replied, narrowing his eyes. "Tell me then, why did Commissioner Gordon personally go to your house and arrest you?"
"I don't know, this is all…all a mistake," she stated, her voice a little stronger.
Batman took a step toward her and folded his arms across his chest. She didn't know it, but Greg had given the commissioner all the details from all eleven of the other children who had been in her care. Commissioner Gordon, of course, had immediately shared those details with the Caped Crusader. The man had tried to honor Dick's unusual request to leave Batman out of it but it was hard to do that when Batman had walked into his office two nights ago demanding details.
"Tell me about Sam Tylers. Or do you want to start with Bobby Cork? Maybe young Dick Grayson would be a good place to begin. Perhaps Josh Michaelson?"
"They were all kids we fostered. We took good care of all of them, ask the social worker. His name is Greg Makov."
"Oh, I've already spoken with him," the hero replied with a growl. "And that was after he spoke with all of those kids. We discovered that Sam had a scar on his left hip. Bobby was reluctant, but eventually told us about his time in the basement with very little food. I've personally seen Dick's torso and Josh talked about his fractured wrist. I'm going to ask you again: do you want to elaborate? It will be better for you if you talk to me before Jasper does. Last chance, Matilda."
"We took good…Sam accidently cut himself when I was teaching him to cook!"
"On the hip?!" Batman nearly shouted incredulously.
Ignoring the hero, Matilda continued, "Bobby wanted to sleep in the dark, said it made him feel safer, and he was never very hungry. Josh was carrying something – I don't remember what – when he tripped down the steps on the back porch. He landed on his stomach and the thing smashed against his wrist."
Satisfied with her ability to think quickly, Matilda gave the man a short nod.
"And Dick?" Batman snarled again.
"What about him?"
"You know what," the man stated, dropping his arms and clenching his hands into fists. "The concussion and bruises and broken bones."
"Oh my gosh!" the woman exclaimed. "Bruce Wayne beats his own kid?!"
Batman just barely restrained himself from flying at her and pounding the slight smirk off her wrinkled face. She had just accused him, although she didn't know it, and his blood was now boiling with rage.
"The only thing Bruce Wayne has done," Batman snapped, "is take Dick to the doctor to get the medical treatment he needed after returning from your house."
"You couldn't possibly know that," Matilda countered foolishly. "You can't just take a millionaire's word for it. Why would he tell you that he beats his kid?"
"This is ridiculous," Batman growled. "Makov spoke with Commissioner Gordon the night the boy returned to Wayne Manor! It's not possible that Dick would have all those injuries after being at Wayne Manor for less than two hours! We're done, I'm going to talk to your husband. Maybe he'll be more cooperative."
"He'll tell you the same things!" Matilda cried, fear outlining the words.
She and Jasper had never spoken about what stories they would create for any injuries that any kid decided to talk about. They had been confident that none of the kids would say anything. Jasper had spoken with each child before they left, just as he had Dick. The fear in the eyes of every child had convinced Jasper of their "loyalty" to him. Because of all that, there was no way Jasper would tell the same stories she had just created.
"I doubt that," Batman growled again as he turned around to leave.
"No…okay, wait!"
With a slight grin of satisfaction, Batman whirled around to face her and folded his arms across his chest again.
"It was all Jasper," she stated softly.
The Caped Crusader waited impatiently when she paused. She didn't continue, so he gave her a fierce Bat-glare.
"Jasper stopped using sharp objects when we – uh, he – realized that Sam had a scar. Bobby refused to do his chores, so Jasper made him sleep down there."
"And the lack of food?" Batman demanded.
"We're just poor people. We never have much food."
Rolling his eyes, the hero motioned for her to continue.
"Um, Josh tried to hit Jasper but he ducked and Josh's fist hit the wall instead. That was totally unprovoked, Josh was a troubled kid."
"Dick," he commanded when she paused again.
"I…don't know?" she questioned meekly.
"DICK!" Batman commanded again, louder this time.
Matilda sighed, stalling so she could figure out a way to lay the blame on Dick.
"The boy was extremely disobedient, all the time. We tried everything we could think of but he just kept breaking the rules. Jasper finally had enough and snapped."
She stopped again and Batman stepped closer, increasing the force of his Bat-glare.
"Um, Jasper may have given him a slight nudge down the stairs."
"A. Slight. Nudge," the hero snarled in disbelief. "Dick would not have a colorful torso and a severe concussion if it had been a slight nudge."
Matilda sighed quietly, dropping her head and resting her forehead on her knees.
"The broken ribs and fractured collar bone," the Caped Crusader stated, his tone dark.
"He…hit the kid," she finally admitted, the words almost inaudible.
Silence reigned. Matilda lifted her head, but Batman was already gone. The guard was locking the cell door and shaking her head.
"You just confessed to Batman," the woman stated.
"No, I told him about Jasper," Matilda answered, her voice shaking slightly.
"You really think he's going to let you off the hook when you just let things happen?! Lady, you're screwed."
With those words, the guard strode away. Matilda dropped her head again and tears began sliding down her cheeks. Tears not of regret, but of anger at having been caught.
"Stupid kids," she muttered. "We'll take care of them when we get out of here."
Three minutes later – block D number twenty-two:
Jasper, unlike Matilda, was not fast asleep. He was pacing in his cell, thinking about what he was going to do with Dick Grayson when this was all over. It was obviously because of him that they had been arrested. And the kid was going to regret telling whomever he had told. Probably Wayne.
"Stupid kid," he muttered.
"Who?" a commanding voice asked from outside his cell.
Jasper looked over and his eyes widened. The guard had just opened his cell door and Batman was striding in. Jasper closed his eyes, shook his head, and reopened them, hoping he was either dreaming or hallucinating. But the Caped Crusader was still there.
"Who is a 'stupid kid'?" Batman demanded.
"None of your business," Jasper growled boldly.
"All criminal activity is my business," the hero growled right back. "Which kid?"
Silence.
Batman was suddenly in the other man's face, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him against the back wall.
"Do you want to talk now or learn the hard way first?" Batman snarled.
"Assault!" Jasper cried out.
He heard the 'clang' of his cell door closing, the 'click' of a lock, and then the sound of footsteps fading away.
"I know my rights!" the man yelled.
"The hard way it is," Batman replied darkly.
He let go of Jasper's shoulders and slammed his fist into the man's stomach. Jasper curled into himself and dropped to his knees. Batman crouched in front of the gasping man and forcefully lifted his chin.
"Ready to talk?"
"About…what?" Jasper managed to wheeze.
Without answering, Batman grabbed the man's shirt and forced him to stand up. The hero immediately twisted Jasper around, slamming the front of his torso against the hard wall and pulling his arms behind him. Grabbing the man's bony wrists with one hand, Batman snatched the collar of Jasper's shirt and pressed him against the wall. Jasper's right cheek was smashed against the cement and he could already feel blood leaking down his face.
"I think you know," the Caped Crusader whispered dangerously, his voice right next to Jasper's left ear. "Or maybe I need to speak to your wife."
"The only thing we're guilty of is taking good care of foster kids," Jasper mumbled out of the side of his mouth. "Go ahead, ask Matilda. And ask Greg Makov, the social worker!"
"I've already spoken with Greg," Batman snarled. "Do we still need to do this the hard way?"
Jasper didn't answer so Batman spun him around. Grabbing the man's biceps, the Caped Crusader lifted him off his feet and tossed him onto the hard mattress of the bed. Jasper's shoulder hit the wall and he glared at the hero.
Batman was next to him already and he slammed his fist into the side of the criminal's head. Hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to knock him out.
"Ready to talk?"
"This is assault and battery," Jasper snarled. "You're going to be in hot water."
Sweeping his arm toward the closed cell door, Batman replied, "From who? There's nobody out there to hear you scream."
"There are other prisoners!"
"And who do you think put most of them in prison?"
Batman was actually enjoying this part. Jasper, who was used to having all the power, was no longer in control. The hero could see fear filling the other man's eyes, and it reminded him of the way Dick's light-blue eyes had looked when he had explained everything to Greg. Dick's had been outlined with determination, though. Jasper's only held fear.
"You're weak," Batman growled. "You're a bully, and a coward, and an idiot. Did you really think that nobody would find out about the way you were treating the kids?!"
"We took good care of those kids!" Jasper exclaimed, rubbing his injured shoulder.
"Then let's talk about them," Batman replied conversationally. "Sam, Bobby, Josh, Dick, Marco, Leon…"
"They were mostly good kids, sometimes a little troubled or defiant. We set boundaries, they toed the line, we helped them learn to make good decisions. We are not horrible people," Jasper stated angrily.
"And exactly how did you 'help' them learn to make good decisions?"
"Same way anybody does – discipline."
"Details," Batman demanded, stepping closer.
Jasper stood up and folded his arms across his chest. Glaring up at the Caped Crusader, who was almost eight inches taller, he said, "Yardwork."
Batman almost burst out laughing, the statement was so ridiculous.
"Yardwork," he echoed skeptically, mirroring the other man's stance.
Jasper, feeling brave, foolishly swung a fist at Batman's chest. The hero's left arm easily blocked the hit and his right hand caught Jasper on the jaw. It was just a light right hook, Batman still didn't want to knock the man out, but it whipped Jasper's chin over his shoulder. The man cried out in pain and dropped back onto the bed.
"Who gave Sam the scar, and Dick the bruises, and Josh the fractured wrist?" Batman snapped.
"I don't know about any scar, Josh tried to hit me, and Dick was fine when he left our house," the man retorted, his voice a little louder. "Whatever you saw on Dick must have been from his guardian, Bruce Wayne."
Jasper spat the name in disgust and Batman couldn't restrain himself this time. He grabbed the man's arms again, yanked him into the air, and slammed him onto the cement of the floor. Jasper gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head. Blood began pooling underneath him and Batman frowned.
Rolling the man onto his stomach, the Caped Crusader tore a strip of material off of Jasper's shirt and pressed it against the head wound. The other man groaned and Batman pushed harder.
He heard footsteps so Batman stood up. The guard patrolling block D arrived and unlocked the cell door.
"The man tripped and hit his head," Batman stated. "You might want to get him to the infirmary."
With that, Batman strode out the door. The guard stared down at the prisoner then shook his head. He took out his walkie-talkie and called for another guard and a gurney. Then he knelt down by Jasper.
"You should have just answered Batman's questions," the guard remarked. "Why are so many first-timers such idiots?"
With a sigh, the man pushed down on the head wound, attempting to stop the bleeding before carting the criminal off to the infirmary.