Title: In Another Land Part Two
Author: Simon
Pairing: Dick
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An AU look at what might have happened if Bruce hadn't taken Dick in.
Warnings: None
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes.
In Another Land
Part TwoDick's tenth birthday was the next day and his parents, his new parents, the ones who adopted him, were going to allow him a sleep out in the back yard with tents and a camp fire. Being March it was still cold at night and the seven friends who were coming had been told to bring warm sleeping bags and sweats to sleep in—the kids would be fine. They wouldn't get much sleep and they'd eat too much junk food, but they'd have fun and that was all Bonnie and Andy wanted.
Dick was making friends now, both in the neighborhood and in school. He seemed to be happy most of the time, and they were settling into a rhythm and routine about their changed lives.
The last eighteen months had passed surprisingly quickly and not always easily. Dick had problems adjusting, both to his parents' deaths and to his new situation. He was seeing a child psychologist who was also a qualified grief counselor twice a week and more often if needed.
The worst time had been when the crime boss, Anthony Zucco, was brought to trial and found guilty for his parents' murder in a racketeering shakedown. A few of his underlings went down with him and the publicity had been a nightmare of reporters and cameras. The local media had closely covered the story and Dick couldn't avoid the stories both in the paper, which his teacher would have on her desk in the morning, and on the evening TV news over dinner. The Porter's tried to shield him, turning off the evening news and hiding the paper at home, but it wasn't really possible to completely block it out. In addition, Dick had given his own testimony on videotape and even though the lawyers had been as gentle as they could, it still led to a week of nightmares, which would leave him trembling, and in speechless tears for hours.
Even aside from the trial, there had been countless sleepless nights and occasional crying jags that would usually be triggered by some seemingly minor thing and which could last up to several days. One of the worst had been the placard in a local store window for the annual town carnival. The design was close enough to the old Haley circus show cards that Dick had stood frozen and staring until Andy gently led him back to the car.
He retreated up to his room and Bonnie held him for most of the afternoon while he cried and told her stories about his parents. That episode lasted three days straight. He'd missed school and the psychologist had come to the house to talk to Dick, administering tranquilizers so the boy would be able to rest.
Another episode was caused by Andy's dial twisting one Saturday afternoon past some gymnastics meet on the TV. Dick stopped on his way past and proceeded to critique every competitor, insisting that his father was better than all of them. That day had ended with Dick kicking the wall until his foot finally went through it.
These tantrums were unusual, though.
Dick was usually an amazing, cheerful child and the Porter's were as happy to have him with them, as he was grateful to be there. And he was grateful. He wished with all his heart that he was still with Haley and that his own parents were still alive, but given that wasn't the world he still lived in—this was pretty good.
Bonnie and Andy were kind, good people who made it clear daily that they were thrilled he was with them and Dick, in turn, tried to live up to their inflated opinions of him. He tried to cause them as little grief as he could, studied in school, cleaned his room when it got bad, helped with the dishes and was an all around good kid.
Most of the time. He was still human.
There were times when he would be overcome by the depression which would overwhelm him and when he felt it starting, he would take himself away—out on his bike, a long walk, a long bath—anything so they wouldn't see and try to comfort him where there was no comfort to be had.
Dick told no one about these spells and learned to live with them.
Usually, though, he was cheerful and outgoing and his new parents were happily astounded by him being in their lives. He was affectionate by nature and would hug Bonnie and kiss her on the cheek every night before he went up to bed. He would help Andy in the garage without being asked and had taken over the lawn mowing and clearing the snow.
He was also, there was no denying, a remarkably handsome child. His coloring was striking with his thick, straight black hair and his startling clear blue eyes. Most people with blue eyes, unless they wore contacts, were really a shade of gray. Dick's eyes were naturally almost pure cornflower blue and would look directly at you, seeming to look straight through you. They caught your attention and held it.
Coupled with his unusual degree of self-possession, he was an outstanding child, and one who was often noticed by people. Even strangers in stores would remark on him, much to his embarrassment.
He was a good student as well; almost straight A's and his teachers were always sending home good reports about him. His IQ tested the highest in his grade, his mind capable and quick. He learned easily and willingly and loved reading without being a bookworm. He was exceptional.
School had been a big adjustment for him, though. Up until his coming to stay with the Porter's, he was home schooled by his mother and the classroom routine was difficult for him to get used to. It was hard for him to sit still that long and the gym period wasn't nearly long enough for him to get rid of the excess energy inside of him.
Knowing that something needed to be done, one day Bonnie saw a possible solution. The local 'Y' was offering classes in gymnastics and karate so, after talking to Dick when he got home from school, they went over and the boy was signed up.
The change was almost instantaneous.
Suddenly from spending the afternoons and weekends looking for something to do, he was focused almost to the point of his new parents being worried about him. He would spend every spare moment out in the backyard practicing tumbling passes or roundhouse kicks. Andy had even caved in and built him a high bar out back, using materials from the local Home Depot. Dick spent hours out there.
"Dick, honey, dinner's ready. Get washed up, please."
"In a minute."
"Now."
"Just one more, please?"
"After dinner, get inside now."
"But..."
"You can go back out when your homework is finished, you know the rules, now go wash those hands."
The coach at the 'Y', the one who taught gymnastics, pulled Andy aside one day after a class. "You know, Dick is really good. I mean he's really good."
"Well, he toured with his real parents in a circus act before we he came to live with us. Frankly, I'd be surprised if he wasn't."
"Jesus. He never told me that."
"They had a trapeze act, the parents were killed in a fall but before that, from what I've heard, they were pretty much it for what they did. I know Dick was part of the act starting when he was three or four. He told me that they used to tour eight or nine months a year, going from one company to another. Haley Circus, that was the one they worked for—anyway, they had two separate tours going all the time. They would tour with both of the companies. I guess that's unusual, but I heard they were popular enough that an exception was made for them."
"...Hellava kid. Y'know, I think he could be something, maybe be one of the top guys in the sport if you were willing to go the distance with him."
"He's that good—at gymnastics?"
"That ten year old is better right now than just about anyone I've seen and I was all-state in college. You let him go to his full potential, you may have yourself an Olympian on your hands. I mean—look at him, that was a triple he just threw there and now he's standing there laughing because it was so much fun."
Dick was that good? Oh, sure, Andy knew he was good, but that good? Really that good? No—jeez. And what would they do about it?
"That sort of thing is expensive, though, right? That kind of training at that level, I mean—don't kids have to move to the best coaches and travel and all of that?" Andy's sport was baseball. This gymnastics thing wasn't something he knew much about and he'd always sort of thought of it as sort of sissy—all those tights and leotards. Jeez, why couldn't Dick like something normal like football or hockey?
"It's not cheap. Look, you think about it, talk it over and I'll see what I can come up with. Maybe we can work something out."
Andy nodded. Jesus, this wasn't anything they'd figured on—Dick getting some kind of special training? Maybe having to move Christ knew where so he could spend all day in some gym with some probably Russian or Ukrainian guy yelling at him? After all that kid had been through, all the disruption and upheaval in his life? Up root him again so he could do back flips in California or Texas or someplace? He was just settled pretty much into his new family—he had friends in school and cousins to play with over the summer and at Christmas. He finally seemed to be mostly happy again.
And he and Bonnie had a son, after all those years of trying and the miscarriages and...send their kid off to the other side of the country after what they'd gone through to get him?
Screw that.
"Hey, Andy, did you see me? I stuck the triple, did you see it?"
He ruffled the thick black hair, "You were great, guy. I'm proud of you—you about ready to go home now?"
"See you Thursday, Steve."
"Count on it, Dick."
The ride in the car was a little awkward. At first Dick was going on about how he'd finally gotten his triple back and he wanted to have the quad back by the end of the month, but Andy was quiet and that wasn't like him.
"Hey, Andy—something wrong? You're not saying much and you sort of haven't said anything since after I saw you and Steve talking about me in the gym. Did I do something wrong?"
"No, nothing at all. Steve was just telling me how good you are, that's all. He was saying how you're the best in the class."
Dick knew what was up; he was a long way from stupid. "He told me that he thinks I can be one of the best in the country if I work at it. He thinks I should go somewhere to train with one of the top coaches. Is that what he was saying to you?"
"He mentioned it."
Andy glanced over at Dick; the expression on his face was close to panic. "Are you going to do that? Are you going to send me away? I mean, if that's what you want me to do, I will, but, I mean, are you going to send me away?" A pause. "Do you want me to go?" He took a breath. "Do you want me to leave—do you want me to...?"
Dick, normally the most outgoing and confident of children was terrified with the thought of losing another family. It was the stuff of his nightmares and he could be clingy when the bogeymen got to him.
"Dick, God, no. We're not going to send you anywhere, okay? You're ours and you live with Bonnie and me and that's not going to change, okay? You're our son now and we don't ever want you to leave." He glanced at the boy, his color heightened with his distress. "You got that?"
He looked dubious; maybe a little reassured and gave a half nod. "But—did you hear Steve? He thinks that I could maybe be good enough to really compete, like maybe I could even do the World's or something. God."
"Watch that kind of talk or Bonnie will bust you, kiddo, you know that."
"Yeah, but—jeez, I could maybe be like the World Champion or something. I mean—the best in the whole world."
They were turning down their block. "Would you like that? I mean, is that what you think you'd like to work for?"
Dick looked over at Andy. What was he asking him for? Jesus, he was a ten-year-old kid, what did he know? "Not if it means that I'd have to leave here and live with some strangers."
Thank God. "Okay. Well, look, why don't I see what I can come up with, alright? We'll talk about this when we've had some time to think about it some more. Maybe we can come up with something."
A nod. Sure, great, that would be fine and besides, medals were cool, but he really just wanted to stay right where he was. Now if there was a way he could train and live at home—but whatever. It didn't really matter. Not really. This was more important, he knew that. At least for him it was.
About the same time Dick was walking into his room to change out of his workout things, Steve picked up the phone and dialed the number he'd been given. "Mr. Pennyworth? This is Steve Model, over at the 'Y'."
"Yes, Mr. Model, what can I do for you, sir?"
"Do you remember you asked me to let you know if Dick needed anything? Well, I think I may know of something he could use, I mean if you have a minute."
"Of course, Mr. Wayne will be most grateful for any information you may have for him. He's quite interested in the young man's welfare."
"But Andy, I know all that, but how on Earth would we be able to afford something like this? He wouldn't even be eligible for any scholarships for a few years—that is even if he is good enough and avoids any serious injuries. I just don't see how we can manage it for him."
"I was thinking I could get another job, something part time, maybe weekends or something. That would help and ..."
"But Dick wants you here for him and I want you around, too. We hardly ever see each other as it is and if you get another job—we'll never see each other."
"But he's really good, Bon. I watched him today and he's really good. I couldn't believe the stuff he was doing and he was so damn happy—God, if you'd just seen him."
"We're barely making ends meet now."
"He has that trust fund from his parents, maybe we could use that."
"Andy, no. You know we agreed that was for his college. We can't touch that. No."
"But if you'd seen him..."
Three weeks later Dick was in the car with Andy when they noticed a new sign on an old warehouse down by the tracks. The place had stood empty for about five years and was for sale or lease, but no one had shown any interest, until now.
"Coming Soon!
Crest Hill Gymnastics Academy
Beginner's to Elite
Classes/private lessons
Call for information."
"God, Andy—did you see that? Did you? Can we call? I know it's probably not going to be any good, but maybe it will be—can we call? Please?"
"Dick, slow down. Yes, we can call. Let's see what they have to say before we jump in here, alright?"
"Oh, yeah, but we can call? You won't forget?"
"Like you'd let me?"
He made the call that afternoon and learned that Sergei Pavlov, a gold medallist from the former Soviet Union, was going to be running the place and would be giving lessons. He hoped to have the place ready to open for business in a month or so and would be happy to take a look at Andy's son for evaluation when the equipment was installed in a couple of weeks. And, yes, there would be a few scholarships available if the boy showed enough potential.
Three weeks later Dick went through a couple of routines and an impromptu lesson with his new coach who was impressed enough to offer the boy lessons at half his normal rate.
"He started at three—is good. Most Americans don't start until they are eight or nine—too late. This one I can make something out of. Three times a week to start and then we see."
Wayne never said anything, his name didn't appear anywhere on the building. As far as anyone knew, he never set foot in the place, but if a piece of equipment needed to be bought or replaced, it was done. He never asked for a progress report and he never made any demands or even suggestions.
He stayed away.
The gym was in Sergei's name and he made monthly payments to Bruce Wayne, plus interest for five years until the building was paid off.
Neither Dick nor his parents would find out for several years that his training had been arranged by and his scholarship paid for by Bruce Wayne.
TBC
10/2/04
14