Title: In Another Land Part Three
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.
Thank you, Jim.
In Another Land
Part ThreeBy the time Dick was twelve, he was nationally ranked as a junior gymnast.
None of his friends knew. Oh, they knew that he worked out and took lessons and all of that since he couldn't ever do anything with them after school, but he'd never told them about the medals or the cups or the trophies. It would seem like bragging and he didn't do that, so no one knew. He didn't even keep them in his room and at his insistence they were not displayed prominently anywhere. The few that were out were stashed behind Andy's softball trophies.
Bonnie was promoted to head of the English department at the private high school where she'd been working for ten years and the added money was welcomed, though it was still a lot less than if she was working in the local public system. Andy's new construction company was in a down period and he was having trouble turning it around. First there was that fire on site when a heater had been improperly filled with kerosene, and then there was that roofer who'd fallen and broken his leg. After that there were two weeks of bad weather left over from a hurricane which put them behind schedule and which they never made up, bringing the job in late. His insurance was sky-high and eating a big part of his profits for the year and probably next year as well.
With great regret, when Linda Hazlet called them just before Thanksgiving to ask if they might be interested in taking in another child, a girl whose parents had been killed in a car wreck, they talked about it but finally decided that they simply couldn't afford another it.
Dick knew about that, of course, much as they'd tried to keep it from him, and he felt guilty and ashamed that his good fortune was at the expense of someone else who was in the same position he'd been in a few years ago.
That was the year they went to visit Andy's brother down near Orlando over Christmas. Johnny worked over at Disney and could get free passes—a big help. They were planning on driving down, but managed to find cheap plane tickets at the last minute, shaving a couple of days off their travel time. Staying with Johnny and his family saved them enough money they could afford the splurge and Dick met his new Florida cousins for the first time, bonding over the Tower of Terror and a full day at Universal—another freebie through a neighbor who worked in the lighting department there. The kids all seemed to get along well, and it appeared to Andy and Bonnie that he enjoyed having other kids around who were actually—well, sort of—related. It was something new for Dick and he reveled in it.
One of the things that caught the cousins' attention was that Dick knew all about the visual tricks, the lighting, the costumes and the stagecraft they were seeing at the parks. They would be at one of the shows and Dick would say—"That's just a reflection in a piece of Mylar. Really easy to do." Or, "He's just stilt walking. You didn't think that guy was really eight feet tall, did you?" "That's rear projection, man, no big deal."
The next morning when everyone was going to drive over to the beach, though, despite the fun they'd all been having, Dick asked if he could stay behind.
"But you love to swim, honey—aren't you feeling well? Did you get too much sun yesterday?"
Dick never could lie well, not to the people he cared about and he was afraid of hurting Bonnie's feelings.
"Dick?"
"It's just that—I, um, I sort of called Pop Haley from Universal last night and he said, I mean—he said that I could spend the day over with him." He was blushing, afraid he'd either get in trouble or that Bonnie would cry or something.
"How were you going to get there?"
"He said he'd pick me up—don't be mad at him, I told him—I sort of told him that it was okay with you guys."
Over the years since the murders, Dick tried to stay in touch with the circus people and a number of them had written him as well. There would be Christmas and birthday presents and letters from all over the country. In alternate years, the letters and cards and packages would arrive from the bi-annual European tour and Dick would smile at the postcards—London, Prague, Paris, Vienna, Munich and the rest, remembering when he traveled with his parents from country to country and city to city. He would make a pilgrimage into Gotham when they played at the arena and he was always welcomed as the prodigal returning. They'd make a big deal over him, smother him with hugs, insist that he stay and eat with them and the entire show would be directed to wherever he was watching from that year—though usually he'd prefer just standing backstage with his old friends.
He never brought anyone with him, other than the Porters of course, no friends or any of the kids from the neighborhood. It was another part of his life, and one he kept separate.
Of necessity, his life was going in a different direction than it would have been if the Grayson's hadn't been killed, but he still loved the people from his old life and the Porter's allowed and encouraged him the contact. He would always return from these visits in a melancholy mood and several days would pass before he could pull himself out of it. The knowledge of what he lost was hard to swallow and he was still only twelve.
The day after the visit with Pop and a few of the others, Andy saw the pattern repeating and followed Dick out to the back yard, sitting on the picnic table bench next to him.
"You alright?"
Dick hesitated before answering, which wasn't like him. "Yeah, fine."
"Visit not go well?"
"It was okay."
He knew what the problem was. It was painfully obvious. "You feel like an outsider with them now, is that it?"
He nodded, sniffing slightly, but not about to cry. "It was bound to happen, I guess. It's not like we see each other all the time or anything. I'm not really part of them now. I used to be but it's like—I don't know, I guess it's just not the same."
"Do you still want to work with them this summer? The offer Mr. Haley made when he was up in the city, when you spent the weekend with them—does that sound like something you'd like to do?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I can't fly by myself and the new act he brought in is full so—I don't know."
"Things move on, people move on, Dick." He put his arm around the boy's shoulders. "It's hard sometimes."
Dick nodded. He knew he wouldn't tour with the circus this coming summer or likely ever again.
Until now he'd somehow thought that he'd end up back with the old people, back in his old life. Now he realized that it probably would never happen and the understanding was difficult.
The visits with the therapist continued, though the Porters didn't let Dick know the insurance had stopped covering them a year earlier. It was too important for them to stop and if it meant Hamburger Helper for dinner again, well, that's what it meant but it was getting harder and harder to balance the checkbook every month. About eight months after Blue Cross stopped paying the bills they opened the latest notice to find the total less than a third of what they'd come to expect. Calling the doctor's office, Bonnie was told that since the insurance company had denied the claim, the doctor would be charging the amount that they would get if the insurance was still in effect and that the new total was correct. In fact, they were owed a refund since the office hadn't caught it before this. Relieved, Bonnie told the woman on the other end that Dick would continue with the doctor, absolutely.
Alfred nodded in satisfaction when Leslie Thompkins reported the latest update back to him. The boy was making great progress and that would continue.
There had been a day several years ago when Bruce has asked Alfred for yet another update on the Grayson boy and Alfred had finally asked what the interest in the youngster was.
Bruce paused to consider the question, probably never having articulated it before and tried to slough it off at first. "I help a lot of people, you know that."
"Indeed you do, but this young man seems to take more of your attention than most."
"Beyond the obvious of our both having similar traumas when we were small children?" Alfred nodded. "I suppose it's because he—has so much potential. You noticed that back when he was here, didn't you? I think he can be someone. In fact, I think he may end up being someone important. Besides, it's not like I keep close tabs on him. I doubt if I've even lain eyes on him more than once since he left here."
"Are you sorry you let him go, then?"
Bruce's answer was decisive. "What in the name of God would I do with a child tagging along? The boy needed a stable family, not the part time attention I could have provided. No, we did the right thing."
So the perimeters of Dick's day-to-day life were set. He would get up by seven, shower, eat and go to school then afterwards walk over to Sergei's gym for three hours, shower again then go home for dinner and homework. On weekends he did his regular chores, did what he could to help around the house and occasionally saw a movie with a friend, though that was rare, as he felt guilty about spending the money.
Money. God. He could hear his parents talking about it and the tone of their voices was becoming increasingly frightened.
They might lose the house.
The green car needed repairs.
Bonnie needed dental work and they didn't have the coverage.
Andy needed a new air compressor for his work and the model he was looking at was over four thousand dollars.
Dick's trip to the Junior Nationals was going to cost over four hundred dollars.
As he lay in bed hearing the conversation through the wall and the vent, he realized that there were some things he could do to help, even if it was just a little.
The next day he went door to door, drumming up business to mow lawns, clean basements and garages. He would rake leaves, shovel snow. He put fliers up on local bulletin boards, offering to do odd jobs. From that day on, he covered as many of his personal expenses as he could out of the money he earned. When he needed a new gym uniform after his was stolen, he told no one and bought it himself. When he needed school supplies, he rode his bike over to the local K-mart and got them. If his jeans wore out or went high water, he'd check the papers for a sale and buy them himself. He did it quietly and it was a couple of months before his parents noticed what was happening and even then they didn't attach much importance to it since he was an independent child anyway, just by nature. He would make excuses of having to finish homework or some project and skip movies when his friends called. He stopped buying cassettes and videos and games for the computer. He made his winter coat last another year and when he found out that Bonnie would go without new tires for her car, he withdrew from the Junior Nationals meet—claiming an injured Achilles tendon and feigning a limp—and freeing up four hundred dollars. He stopped going to five-day-a-week training sessions and cut down to twice a week to save the extra charges and when Sergei asked him why, Dick told him that he was having trouble keeping up in school and needed to study.
"But is all a mistake. If you go, you will win National's. You will win scholarships if you win then you'll have enough money to train. You'll be world champion when you're twenty, maybe younger—you'll see that I'm right."
"Sergei, c'mon, you know what's going on with my parents. This is more important than back flips."
"You could be best in the world."
"And then what? It's not like football or baseball or something. It's not like I'm ever going to get rich from it."
"But you'll be the best."
"I can compete when I get to high school, they have a team. It'll be fine."
"Compete in high school?" He made it sound like a disease. "You were beyond high school when you were six years old. You should quit if that's all you think of what we do here. Is for more than just money, what we do—you can be the best in the world. You know this..."
"You don't understand—it's more important than medals or..."
"I know, but—you're good. This is what you were born for."
"Hanging from bars and sticking dismounts?" Dick knew that Sergei had pinned his hopes for the gym on Dick's success, that if he won, the publicity would bring in new students. He knew that, but he had to help out at home. That was more important. "I'm sorry, Sergei. I really am."
The Russian looked at the boy—he'd do what he thought was important, but it was a waste of talent. He was better at twelve than a lot of the men competing now internationally. He could be the best; no one would be his equal in a couple of years—if he didn't quit. But—it couldn't be forced. He had to want to do it or it wouldn't work. "So you do what you think you must. You come here when you can."
When Dick left to cut a lawn instead of finessing his dismount from the parallels, Sergei called Alfred. Maybe this was solvable.
About three weeks later Andy came home with roses for Bonnie and thick London broil steaks for the grill.
"You won't believe the damn call I got this afternoon—you are just not going to believe this." He was opening the bottle of wine they were saving for guests. "You know that big renovation over at Wayne's place? The contractor they had working for them left them high and dry because of some lawsuit—and guess who was number two on the list?"
"Andy—no!"
"I went over there at two and by four-thirty I had the job—six hundred thousand dollars, and that's just the beginning. If he's happy with the work we do, then stage two kicks in and that's another two and a half million dollars."
"So—you get ten percent?"
"I get ten percent after expenses. Sixty thousand dollars from the first phase—sixty thousand dollars!"
Up in his room, doing homework, Dick heard the conversation and it was great news, but he knew how these things worked. Contracts could get cancelled or there could be cost overruns, which would eat the profits. Maybe Mr. Wayne wouldn't like the work and Andy would be fired.
No. This didn't change anything.
And Dick was getting tired of Bruce Wayne riding to the rescue like the damn cavalry, even if he was the only one who seemed to notice what was going on.
He knew that he'd bought Sergei the gym—they were talking about it the other day. No, no names were mentioned, but who else could it have been? A 'local man who likes to support the community and see the kids are well equipped'. C'mon, how smart did you have to be to figure that one out?
And that thing with the shrink dropping her fees by like two thirds? Oh, right—that happened all the time. Of course it did. All Dick didn't know was who made the call; Wayne himself or that old English guy.
And now Andy gets a contract to fix Wayne's frigging house just when his company was threatened with folding? Uh-huh.
Well, screw it. Andy and Bonnie did need the money and he was a big drain with the shrink and the gymnastics over the last few years and food and clothing and all the stuff for school. It seemed like every time he turned around the school wanted another ten or twenty dollars for some beg-a-thon or field trip or something. And they'd bought him that new bike for Christmas and there was that trip to Florida—it was a lot of money going out and if Wayne had decided to make them one of his charities, well, what the hell.
Of course, that didn't mean that he didn't get what was going or that he had to like it, but he could suck it up for now.
TBC
10/4/04
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