A Different Game: Part 2a
Clark sat alone in a conference room at The Daily Planet. He'd been transfixed by the news this weekend and had apprehensively waited for Monday's live broadcast from Gotham. He remembered when the story broke -- Bruce Wayne Murdered! He still couldn't believe it. Gotham's police were said to have suspects in custody but they hadn't released any details, any names.
He had tried to contact Dick and was unsuccessfully. No one had heard from Dick. Clark had checked the boy's apartment, and asked the Titans, and the JLA, and with Oracle uncharacteristically offline, no one could find Dick.
Clark was starting to worry. It was hard enough to believe that Bruce could really be dead, but Dick's absence was unnerving. Had something happened to him? If Bruce HAD been murdered, could the murderer have reached Dick? Or was Dick in stealth mode in Gotham -- waiting for his chance at Bruce killers? Would this drive Dick into the darkness he and Bruce always teetered on? Clark wanted to go to Gotham, but remembered how fiercely protective Bruce was of HIS city. He had stayed away out of a sense of loyalty to Bruce -- Bruce would want his own people handling this, and they were capable of doing so.
Then the news had come that the GCPD had two suspects in custody. Perhaps the case was closed without the aid of Bruce's knights. The live news feeds started coming from Gotham. The media was having a field day. Sometimes, Clark was embarrassed at how members of his profession could act. But Lois was right when she said this story was hitting him too close to home. When Bruce had purchased the Planet a few months back, Clark had acted rather perturbed, but he really wasn't. He was actually glad to have Bruce on board -- even if just in a corporate capacity. He, at least, knew Bruce was someone he could trust. Trust, he almost chuckled at the thought. They had had their moments a while back - tensions had been strained, but they had gotten past that. Clark knew he trusted Bruce more than Bruce would ever trust him, but Bruce's paranoia was part of the package. Despite their differences, Clark considered Bruce his friend, his closest friend in the superhero community. He didn't want to accept that Bruce could really be gone.
Standing, Clark walked from the table to the counter along the wall and poured a cup of coffee. The Planet's coffee had an infamous reputation, but with his "steel plated stomach" as Lois called it, he felt safe to have more than one cup. Clark turned and started walking back to his seat in front of the TV set when Metropolis's affiliate to Gotham's GCTV station interrupted the commentator's discussion of the Wayne Murder. Summer Gleason's face appeared on the screen standing in front of the Gotham City Courthouse. Clark sat on the edge of the table sipping his coffee waiting for the news report.
"Startling new developments have just been revealed in the Bruce Wayne Murder investigation. Billionaire industrialist Bruce Wayne's adopted son Richard Grayson, and Wayne's former neighbor, sixteen year old Timothy Drake, have been charged with Wayne's brutal killing."
Clark spew his coffee out on the conference room table. Summer Gleason's voice continued, unabated, as she reported the story to the nation.
"Grayson and Drake were arraigned before Judge Maria Vargas. Gotham City District Attorney Peter Reynolds introduced damning evidence against the accused today. The prosecution presented a videotape which placed the two defendants at the scene of the crime in blood soaked clothes. After such strong evidence, Reynolds pushed to make the Wayne murder a capital case and just now Judge Vargas has allowed the motion.
Before any more of the story could be broadcast, the TV set exploded. Clark pulled his now melted glasses off and stared at the remains of the frames.
"Damn."
Lois entered the room in a hurry, "Clark, what ...", she started to say, but cut herself off when she saw the sight before her. "Saw the news from Gotham, huh?"
"I'm going."
"I thought you said ---"
"That was before I knew this. Dick didn't ... he wouldn't...they're crazy. I've got to go."
"Well, just don't blow up the jail. Call me if you need anything. I love you."
"You too. Cover for me with Perry. Tell him I need some time off. Family matters."
***********************************************************************
"Mr. Walters, Mr. Avery." One of two guard entered the attorney- client conference room. "We've got to take the prisoners back to the jail now."
Dick sighed as he turned toward the door. He sighed wearily... he knew this was only the beginning. He looked at Tim and Jack, the space between them. It made him angry, the way Jack was treating Tim. He sighed again as a wave of sadness hit him. At least Tim HAD his dad here. Dick shook his head. He couldn't think like that -- not now. He had to keep a clear head.
Dick looked on as Jack closed the gap between himself and his son. Jack tentatively placed his hands on Tim's shoulders, then drew the boy closer to him -- into a hug. As Dick watched Tim's arms clutched at his father, he felt his own heart ache.
"Tim," Jack softly started, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to protect you. I'm just scared that I can't."
"I'm sorry too Dad," Tim replied, his voice shaking slightly.
Dick felt like an outsider, an intruder, watching this moment between father and son. Dick turned away.
"Mr. Walters, when do we go to court again?" Dick asked.
"Can't say. Dick, you're going to have to be patient. It could be a long time before we have a trial date."
Dick looked worried, "How long?"
Tim had walked over to the conference table, his father following behind him, as they waited for Jon Walters to answer the question.
Walters looked to Avery and sighed. "Boys, sometimes in cases like these, it takes six months to a year to get a court date."
Dick and Tim looked at each other. They were both shaking their heads. It was Dick who spoke, "And you mean we have to stay in jail all that time?"
"I'm afraid so," Wilson Avery interjected.
"Oh hell no!" Dick shouted, "We are NOT staying in jail that long!"
The guards approached them, "You two have to come with us now, the van's about to leave." The guards took Dick and Tim by the arms and started handcuffing them.
Dick looked at his attorney, "You've got to get us a trial date sooner than that! As soon as you can! We can't stay in here that long."
The guards moved the boys from the room and toward the courthouse exit. Upon leaving the building, they were met with camera flashes and a multitude of shouted questions. They ignored the questions and tried to shield their faces from the cameras as they were led to the transport van. The cameras and reporters were stopped by the fence and couldn't get close to the van.
Tim saw the other dozen or so prisoners waiting to load the van. He turned to Dick, an anxious look in his eyes. On his transfers to and from JDC, he had been alone.
As the approached, Dick leaned to Tim and whispered, "Take a window seat, I'll be right beside you."
"Load up," yelled a guard.
Tim stood there, unmoving. Standing slightly behind Tim, Dick nudged the younger boy toward the van, "I'm right beside you."
***********************************************************************
Jim Gordon walked through the door he had entered a dozen times. The decor had changed. His office was no longer his; it belonged to his successor Michael Akins.
"Jim!" Akins said as he stood up from behind his desk and walked around to shake Gordon's hand. "What brings you back to your old stomping grounds?"
"The Wayne case," Gordon said flatly as he shook Akins hand.
Akins shook his head as he motioned for Jim to sit down, "That's a bad case. It's a shame too. Three lives ruined."
Jim took a seat, the view was different from this side of his -- no Akins -- desk. "I don't think those boys are guilty."
"The evidence is pretty clear, Jim. Jacobs has done a good job on this case. He's not left any holes."
"That may be, Mike, but I know Dick Grayson. He's a good kid, always has been. You know he's a cop?"
Akins let out a slight laugh, "Yeah, in Bludhaven. That's not a cop, that's a bad guy."
"Not all Haven cops are dirty," Jim said defensively. Then he added, "He's been seeing Barbara. This is family."
Akins sat down and looked at Jim. "He's seeing your daughter? I didn't realize Jim. I'm sorry. This must be difficult for all of you?"
"Especially for Barbara. She doesn't know I'm here. Mike, I want to ask a favor. Now, I know, if I were you, I'd probably be taking offense. I was in your position many years, and I didn't like it when people asked me for favors. But now that I'm on this side of the desk, I can see another side too. I'm not asking you for special treatment for the boys. But Tim Drake's only sixteen years old. He and Dick are close, like brothers. Dick's just found out his father's dead -- I know you think he's guilty, I don't. Just keep them together. That's all I'm asking, keep them together."
Michael Akins looked at Jim Gordon. This man was a legend in Gotham. And here he was, asking favors for accused murderers. How could he refuse this man?
"You got it Commish."
"That's your title now," Jim replied with a smile.
***********************************************************************
Dick laid on his bunk as Tim paced around in their cell.
"Why don't you sit down?" Dick asked.
"Nervous energy," Tim replied.
"Uh-huh."
"You were right."
"'Bout what?"
"The difference between here and JDC."
"Yeah," Dick mumbled.
Tim moved over and sat on Dick's bunk. Quietly, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? About what?" Dick said sitting up and looking at his "little brother".
"About Bruce. I can't believe it."
Dick sat there quietly. The impact of the prosecutor's statement -- that the DNA test conclusively confirmed that it WAS Bruce who died -- hit Dick again. He had tried to forget that, to concentrate on something else, anything else. Pushing the dreaded thought from his conscious mind, he looked Tim in the eye, then looked down. "Me neither," he said softly.
Tim placed a comforting arm around Dick's shoulders. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? So they sat together in silence until a guard opened the cell door. They looked at the door.
"You've got a visitor Grayson."
Dick stood up, patting Tim on the shoulder as he headed out. The guard took him by his right arm as he walked out of the cell toward the visitation cubicles. As Dick approached the visitation station, he caught a glimpse of a large dark haired man sitting their waiting for him. Dick felt his heart beat faster in his chest as a lump rose in his throat. Could it be?
No! It wasn't. He tried a slight smile, hiding his disappointment, as he sat down, "Hi Clark."
"Are you all right, Dick? What can I do?"
"Find Bruce."
Clark stared into Dick's dark blue eyes. His heart ached to see this boy -- this young man -- sitting here in jail. Of all the people in the world, Dick Grayson was one who didn't belong in jail. He hated to bring up the subject, "The DNA..."
"I don't care! I don't think he's dead Clark."
"Dick, I'll see what I can do? What I can find? I'm not the detective that Bruce was."
"Is! That he is!" Dick exclaimed. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Am I kidding myself?"
"You want it to be true. Bruce's death would be hard on you under any circumstances, but these aren't normal circumstances. I know you want to get out of here, that you want to go home. And I know you're innocent. I'll help you any way I can."
Dick smiled weakly. It wasn't the smile Clark remembered from that laughing colorfully clad little boy he had watched grow into a fine young man. Dick Grayson was as close to a nephew as Clark knew he'd ever get. His heart ached for the pain the boy was going through. He wished he could take that pain away, but that was something even his powers couldn't do.
"Clark, I'd stay here forever if Bruce would just walk in here. That's all I need."
"I know, son. I know."
To be continued ...
Clark sat alone in a conference room at The Daily Planet. He'd been transfixed by the news this weekend and had apprehensively waited for Monday's live broadcast from Gotham. He remembered when the story broke -- Bruce Wayne Murdered! He still couldn't believe it. Gotham's police were said to have suspects in custody but they hadn't released any details, any names.
He had tried to contact Dick and was unsuccessfully. No one had heard from Dick. Clark had checked the boy's apartment, and asked the Titans, and the JLA, and with Oracle uncharacteristically offline, no one could find Dick.
Clark was starting to worry. It was hard enough to believe that Bruce could really be dead, but Dick's absence was unnerving. Had something happened to him? If Bruce HAD been murdered, could the murderer have reached Dick? Or was Dick in stealth mode in Gotham -- waiting for his chance at Bruce killers? Would this drive Dick into the darkness he and Bruce always teetered on? Clark wanted to go to Gotham, but remembered how fiercely protective Bruce was of HIS city. He had stayed away out of a sense of loyalty to Bruce -- Bruce would want his own people handling this, and they were capable of doing so.
Then the news had come that the GCPD had two suspects in custody. Perhaps the case was closed without the aid of Bruce's knights. The live news feeds started coming from Gotham. The media was having a field day. Sometimes, Clark was embarrassed at how members of his profession could act. But Lois was right when she said this story was hitting him too close to home. When Bruce had purchased the Planet a few months back, Clark had acted rather perturbed, but he really wasn't. He was actually glad to have Bruce on board -- even if just in a corporate capacity. He, at least, knew Bruce was someone he could trust. Trust, he almost chuckled at the thought. They had had their moments a while back - tensions had been strained, but they had gotten past that. Clark knew he trusted Bruce more than Bruce would ever trust him, but Bruce's paranoia was part of the package. Despite their differences, Clark considered Bruce his friend, his closest friend in the superhero community. He didn't want to accept that Bruce could really be gone.
Standing, Clark walked from the table to the counter along the wall and poured a cup of coffee. The Planet's coffee had an infamous reputation, but with his "steel plated stomach" as Lois called it, he felt safe to have more than one cup. Clark turned and started walking back to his seat in front of the TV set when Metropolis's affiliate to Gotham's GCTV station interrupted the commentator's discussion of the Wayne Murder. Summer Gleason's face appeared on the screen standing in front of the Gotham City Courthouse. Clark sat on the edge of the table sipping his coffee waiting for the news report.
"Startling new developments have just been revealed in the Bruce Wayne Murder investigation. Billionaire industrialist Bruce Wayne's adopted son Richard Grayson, and Wayne's former neighbor, sixteen year old Timothy Drake, have been charged with Wayne's brutal killing."
Clark spew his coffee out on the conference room table. Summer Gleason's voice continued, unabated, as she reported the story to the nation.
"Grayson and Drake were arraigned before Judge Maria Vargas. Gotham City District Attorney Peter Reynolds introduced damning evidence against the accused today. The prosecution presented a videotape which placed the two defendants at the scene of the crime in blood soaked clothes. After such strong evidence, Reynolds pushed to make the Wayne murder a capital case and just now Judge Vargas has allowed the motion.
Before any more of the story could be broadcast, the TV set exploded. Clark pulled his now melted glasses off and stared at the remains of the frames.
"Damn."
Lois entered the room in a hurry, "Clark, what ...", she started to say, but cut herself off when she saw the sight before her. "Saw the news from Gotham, huh?"
"I'm going."
"I thought you said ---"
"That was before I knew this. Dick didn't ... he wouldn't...they're crazy. I've got to go."
"Well, just don't blow up the jail. Call me if you need anything. I love you."
"You too. Cover for me with Perry. Tell him I need some time off. Family matters."
***********************************************************************
"Mr. Walters, Mr. Avery." One of two guard entered the attorney- client conference room. "We've got to take the prisoners back to the jail now."
Dick sighed as he turned toward the door. He sighed wearily... he knew this was only the beginning. He looked at Tim and Jack, the space between them. It made him angry, the way Jack was treating Tim. He sighed again as a wave of sadness hit him. At least Tim HAD his dad here. Dick shook his head. He couldn't think like that -- not now. He had to keep a clear head.
Dick looked on as Jack closed the gap between himself and his son. Jack tentatively placed his hands on Tim's shoulders, then drew the boy closer to him -- into a hug. As Dick watched Tim's arms clutched at his father, he felt his own heart ache.
"Tim," Jack softly started, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to protect you. I'm just scared that I can't."
"I'm sorry too Dad," Tim replied, his voice shaking slightly.
Dick felt like an outsider, an intruder, watching this moment between father and son. Dick turned away.
"Mr. Walters, when do we go to court again?" Dick asked.
"Can't say. Dick, you're going to have to be patient. It could be a long time before we have a trial date."
Dick looked worried, "How long?"
Tim had walked over to the conference table, his father following behind him, as they waited for Jon Walters to answer the question.
Walters looked to Avery and sighed. "Boys, sometimes in cases like these, it takes six months to a year to get a court date."
Dick and Tim looked at each other. They were both shaking their heads. It was Dick who spoke, "And you mean we have to stay in jail all that time?"
"I'm afraid so," Wilson Avery interjected.
"Oh hell no!" Dick shouted, "We are NOT staying in jail that long!"
The guards approached them, "You two have to come with us now, the van's about to leave." The guards took Dick and Tim by the arms and started handcuffing them.
Dick looked at his attorney, "You've got to get us a trial date sooner than that! As soon as you can! We can't stay in here that long."
The guards moved the boys from the room and toward the courthouse exit. Upon leaving the building, they were met with camera flashes and a multitude of shouted questions. They ignored the questions and tried to shield their faces from the cameras as they were led to the transport van. The cameras and reporters were stopped by the fence and couldn't get close to the van.
Tim saw the other dozen or so prisoners waiting to load the van. He turned to Dick, an anxious look in his eyes. On his transfers to and from JDC, he had been alone.
As the approached, Dick leaned to Tim and whispered, "Take a window seat, I'll be right beside you."
"Load up," yelled a guard.
Tim stood there, unmoving. Standing slightly behind Tim, Dick nudged the younger boy toward the van, "I'm right beside you."
***********************************************************************
Jim Gordon walked through the door he had entered a dozen times. The decor had changed. His office was no longer his; it belonged to his successor Michael Akins.
"Jim!" Akins said as he stood up from behind his desk and walked around to shake Gordon's hand. "What brings you back to your old stomping grounds?"
"The Wayne case," Gordon said flatly as he shook Akins hand.
Akins shook his head as he motioned for Jim to sit down, "That's a bad case. It's a shame too. Three lives ruined."
Jim took a seat, the view was different from this side of his -- no Akins -- desk. "I don't think those boys are guilty."
"The evidence is pretty clear, Jim. Jacobs has done a good job on this case. He's not left any holes."
"That may be, Mike, but I know Dick Grayson. He's a good kid, always has been. You know he's a cop?"
Akins let out a slight laugh, "Yeah, in Bludhaven. That's not a cop, that's a bad guy."
"Not all Haven cops are dirty," Jim said defensively. Then he added, "He's been seeing Barbara. This is family."
Akins sat down and looked at Jim. "He's seeing your daughter? I didn't realize Jim. I'm sorry. This must be difficult for all of you?"
"Especially for Barbara. She doesn't know I'm here. Mike, I want to ask a favor. Now, I know, if I were you, I'd probably be taking offense. I was in your position many years, and I didn't like it when people asked me for favors. But now that I'm on this side of the desk, I can see another side too. I'm not asking you for special treatment for the boys. But Tim Drake's only sixteen years old. He and Dick are close, like brothers. Dick's just found out his father's dead -- I know you think he's guilty, I don't. Just keep them together. That's all I'm asking, keep them together."
Michael Akins looked at Jim Gordon. This man was a legend in Gotham. And here he was, asking favors for accused murderers. How could he refuse this man?
"You got it Commish."
"That's your title now," Jim replied with a smile.
***********************************************************************
Dick laid on his bunk as Tim paced around in their cell.
"Why don't you sit down?" Dick asked.
"Nervous energy," Tim replied.
"Uh-huh."
"You were right."
"'Bout what?"
"The difference between here and JDC."
"Yeah," Dick mumbled.
Tim moved over and sat on Dick's bunk. Quietly, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? About what?" Dick said sitting up and looking at his "little brother".
"About Bruce. I can't believe it."
Dick sat there quietly. The impact of the prosecutor's statement -- that the DNA test conclusively confirmed that it WAS Bruce who died -- hit Dick again. He had tried to forget that, to concentrate on something else, anything else. Pushing the dreaded thought from his conscious mind, he looked Tim in the eye, then looked down. "Me neither," he said softly.
Tim placed a comforting arm around Dick's shoulders. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? So they sat together in silence until a guard opened the cell door. They looked at the door.
"You've got a visitor Grayson."
Dick stood up, patting Tim on the shoulder as he headed out. The guard took him by his right arm as he walked out of the cell toward the visitation cubicles. As Dick approached the visitation station, he caught a glimpse of a large dark haired man sitting their waiting for him. Dick felt his heart beat faster in his chest as a lump rose in his throat. Could it be?
No! It wasn't. He tried a slight smile, hiding his disappointment, as he sat down, "Hi Clark."
"Are you all right, Dick? What can I do?"
"Find Bruce."
Clark stared into Dick's dark blue eyes. His heart ached to see this boy -- this young man -- sitting here in jail. Of all the people in the world, Dick Grayson was one who didn't belong in jail. He hated to bring up the subject, "The DNA..."
"I don't care! I don't think he's dead Clark."
"Dick, I'll see what I can do? What I can find? I'm not the detective that Bruce was."
"Is! That he is!" Dick exclaimed. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Am I kidding myself?"
"You want it to be true. Bruce's death would be hard on you under any circumstances, but these aren't normal circumstances. I know you want to get out of here, that you want to go home. And I know you're innocent. I'll help you any way I can."
Dick smiled weakly. It wasn't the smile Clark remembered from that laughing colorfully clad little boy he had watched grow into a fine young man. Dick Grayson was as close to a nephew as Clark knew he'd ever get. His heart ached for the pain the boy was going through. He wished he could take that pain away, but that was something even his powers couldn't do.
"Clark, I'd stay here forever if Bruce would just walk in here. That's all I need."
"I know, son. I know."
To be continued ...
