Title: Man on the Bench-part four
Author: Simon
Characters: Dick Grayson and Manor crew, plus OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bruce meets with the Grandfather, Dick talks with his cousin.
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, Syl. You are a speed wonder.
And just by the way? I know a lot of people call them ATV's (All Terrain Vehicles) but we've always called them quads in my neck of the woods, so that's what Dick calls them here.
The Man on the Bench
Part FiveLucius Fox opened without preamble. "You asked for this meeting, Mr. Lloyd. Shall we not waste time? What is it you want?"
"It's very simple; I want my grandson."
They were sitting in the large conference room on the fifty-eighth floor of Wayne Corp Headquarters. Bruce was there with Lucius and the four top lawyers from his legal department along with the lawyer and the assistant who had written the original guardianship papers. Philip Lloyd was there with his partner, both with an assistant and secretary in tow. The huge room dwarfed the fourteen people who needed just one end of the enormous table.
"Your opportunity to gain guardianship of Richard passed five years ago when permanent custody was granted to Mr. Wayne. There were ample chances to file and you didn't. Neither have you, until last week, made any attempt to contact your grandson nor in any way or inquire about his well being, despite your living less than two hours away from Mr. Wayne."
"I'm deeply ashamed about my conduct towards the boy and wish to make up for it now—you know how it is when you're getting older; you just don't want to waste any more time."
Lucius somehow managed to keep a straight face, probably because he was as outraged as Bruce that this was happening. "Your daughter and her husband left no instructions in their wills as to whom they wished to raise their son should something happen to them—a regrettable oversight on their part. Because of this and in the absence of any immediate family members being willing to give Richard a home he was awarded to Mr. Wayne."
Philip looked a little abashed at that. "I know that and I'm surprised at Mary's lapse—she was my daughter, after all; she knew the basics of the law about protecting her son—even if John Grayson didn't."
"I'd hardly blame your daughter for our being here this morning, Mr. Lloyd. My question is why didn't you take your grandson in when—forgive me— his parents were killed? You were notified within twelve hours after the accident, weren't you? You must have been informed that Richard was uninjured, well, at least physically—didn't it occur to you that he needed a place to stay; that having his family around him would be helpful to him at a time like that?"
The Wayne people seemed less than sympathetic to Philip Lloyd. Lloyd's people seemed uncomfortable with the facts.
"I've told you that I'm ashamed, deeply ashamed of my actions five years ago, and all I can say is that I'd just lost my daughter and was in shock—surely any of you who have children would be devastated by a loss like the one my wife and I suffered. I was—wrong and now I want to make it right."
Bruce spoke up for the first time, showing a side of himself he rarely allowed outsiders to see, but since he and Philip had taken good measure of one another that evening in the Manor, he had little to lose—besides Dick, of course. "Mr. Lloyd, not only did you not make any attempt to contact or help Richard, in the intervening five years you never once got in direct touch with him nor did your wife or your surviving daughter. You never sent him so much as a birthday card—though I understand Dick's aunt at least did that much for him, minimal though it was. I'm sure you can understand why I find myself dubious about your sudden change of heart."
"I've explained my feelings to you, Mr. Wayne and I'm more than willing to allow you ample chances to visit with Dick—I recognize what you've done for him and the last thing I'd want is to upset him further."
The Wayne people were hard pressed to hide their reactions to the last statement and a few quiet snots of derision were just barely covered by hands to mouths.
Bruce signaled Lucius to end this; enough of this ridiculous game.
"Mr. Lloyd, everyone in this room knows that unless you have compelling evidence showing that Mr. Wayne is in some way delinquent or detrimental towards Richard or his welfare you'll never get the custody decision overturned. With all respect, you're wasting our time…do you have anything of substance for us to look at this morning?"
There was some shuffling of papers and looks back and forth. No one said anything since Lloyd's people had been told the boss would handle everything himself, that he had it wrapped up and that it would just be a case of presenting what they had and watching Wayne cave. The others had merely been brought along as window dressing to ensure the numbers were reasonably even between the two sides.
Evidently and surprisingly, Philip had underestimated his opponent. Whatever his reputation may be, Wayne and his staff were better prepared and stood on solid legal ground as far as the boy went.
Lucius made a move to stand up, the others following, Philip Lloyd and his people angry at being dismissed so quickly and out of hand
"Wayne? You'll be hearing from me."
A couple of minutes later Bruce and Lucius were in Bruce's office, the others thanked and released for the day. "So what is he going to call you about?"
Bruce knew the answer as well as Lucius did. "What he really wants."
When Bruce got back to the Manor he could hear the whining roar of the quads coming across the lawn at full speed, skidding to a stop too close to his car, both boys laughing at having 'gotten' him.
"You two being careful on those things?"
"Yeah Bruce, really careful." Dick was smiling, laughing. Peter was almost doubled over at the thought. At least they were wearing helmets.
"Try not to kill yourselves before lunch?"
Around three that afternoon, Bruce got the call he was expecting.
"Mr. Wayne? Philip Lloyd here. Do you have a few minutes?"
Mentally shaking his head at the game, Bruce answered. "Of course, Mr. Lloyd. What is it you want to discuss? Have you rethought your plans to challenge me for custody?"
"Well, the boy is my grandson, and that's a fact but maybe we can work something out to avoid any unpleasantness. That sound good to you?"
"I thought that after this morning you would drop whatever you seem to have in mind—as far as I could tell, you don't have a leg to stand on."
"Well, I'll let you decide that for yourself, Bruce, after you hear what I have to say."
"Depending on what you're proposing."
"Now let's cut through the bull, shall we? You and I both know that you have a pretty good set of papers in hand and that for me to file a formal inquiry of some kind would open up a can of worms neither of us really wants—sound about right so far?"
And two and two equal four, as well. "Yes, that sounds about right."
"And the last thing either of us wants is for Dick to be upset about this, we in agreement so far, Wayne?"
"Please go on, Mr. Lloyd."
"I think I might be willing to forget about this whole thing if we can come to an agreement."
"And what sort of agreement were you thinking about, Mr. Lloyd?" Used as Bruce was to playing the negotiations game, this was becoming tiresome.
"Now, the truth is that I'd like to avoid any nastiness; it would bring up all that unpleasantness about Mary and myself being estranged and there may even be some questions about what kind of life he was living in a traveling show, questions about the sort of people who frequent a life style like that. Now I wouldn't want the boy to have to see something like that played out in the papers and the tabloids—I'm sure you feel the same way, am I right, Bruce?"
"The simple answer is for you to not file an unwinnable suit, Mr. Lloyd."
"But I can't really do that, you see. We've all heard the questions about a wealthy, single man; a 'life-long bachelor', as it were, taking in an attractive young boy, haven't we? And there you are in that big house with just a male live-in servant as regular help. As my old grandfather used to say, 'that dog don't hunt', does it?"
That chestnut again. For God's sake, at least come up with something original. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'd be willing to drop this whole thing if we could come to an understanding."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're suggesting, Mr. Lloyd."
"I would be willing to drop this action."
Christ, make a point. "Yes?"
"Wayne Corp is a large company with world-wide interests. You must have any number of contracts and legal issues pending at any one time."
"And?" For God's sake. How much money do you want to go away?
"My law firm is seriously considering a large expansion but I'm encountering some resistance. If I could tell my partners and associates that we had the legal work of your company—and your personal legal needs as well, of course—in our corner it would make it much easier for my people to swallow."
In the last six months Lloyd and Penn had lost its four largest accounts amid charges of mismanagement and overcharging, none of which had been proven but which had still cut the firm's billing by almost forty percent. They were hurting.
"I'm sure you're aware that I have a legal department which is more than adequate for my needs."
Lloyd paused for just a shade too long… "You're choice, Bruce. Look, you think it over for a couple pf days, get back to me. I'll look forward to talking again on, say, Monday. Enjoy the rest of the weekend."
So this was the real point of the stupid maneuvering? Lloyd was trying to use Dick as a bargaining chip to keep his damn company afloat? Play ball, hire his law firm and all the runaround and false charges with all the attendant paparazzi nonsense would become a non-issue?
Not that Bruce was completely surprised, of course. He'd known from the first day he'd heard the man made contact with Dick that his law firm was facing closure; the timing wasn't coincidental. It wasn't even subtle but, somehow, despite knowing the facts, Bruce had hoped against hope and the evidence that Dick might have really found a relative who wanted to just love him and make him part of the whole family.
Shakespeare was right. 'First, let's kill all the lawyers'.
And make sure that Dick didn't find out.
Bruce could hear the quads still racing around the house, tearing up the manicured lawn and no doubt, and making life hell for the gardeners. Normally he or Alfred would go out and make them stop, but today he didn't care.
It was just grass, they were kids and they were having fun. The lawn could be repaired and…
What the hell.
Roaring out of the garage five minutes later on the third quad, he met up with the boys at the bottom of the big hill. "Have you tried the woods trail yet? No? Eat my dust, children!"
He caught a glimpse of the astonished smile on Dick's face as he shifted gears.
"God, Dick you are so totally lucky, Dude. You have just so landed in it—you live in this place, you have pools and horses and quads and whatever you want just by like ringing a bell and Bruce is so not like I thought he'd be."
They were back by the indoor pool, opting for a soak in the connecting Jacuzzi instead of the hot showers Alfred had recommended after spending most of the day outside going over hill and dale, as he'd put it, making themselves wet, dirty, muddy and chilled clear through to their bones.
"What did you think he'd be like?" This wouldn't be the first time someone had the wrong impression of Bruce—and there were so many ways of getting it wrong when you came down to it. Airhead, money tree, arrogant jerk, cold bastard…take your pick, but then he'd go and do something like he had this afternoon; spend hours racing them through the woods and across the lawns then up the two mile long driveway and back again—and again. Then he'd promised that as soon as they were clean and managed to get themselves warmed up he'd either take them out or let them order in whatever they wanted for dinner; and yes, pizza was a possibility.
"I thought he'd be, you know, sort of, I don't know. I guess I thought he'd be too busy to hang out with us and what I've heard about him sounds like he's not really a kid person." He caught Dick's look. "C'mon, you know what I mean—he's always in the magazines with all these different women and stuff. It's like that's all he does, practically." Peter took a long drink from the water bottles they'd put on the rim. "And he's a lot smarter than I thought he'd be, too. He's got this reputation as a—well, you know, as not all that smart."
"You mean most people think he's an idiot."
"Right, what you said."
Dick smiled at that. Yes, he knew. "He's not what a lot of people think he is. You get used to it pretty fast if you hang around him. In fact, sometimes he's pretty okay." And if Peter knew even half of the whole story he'd freak. "So you want pizza or Chinese for dinner?"
"Why don't you and Bruce get pizza and I'll order a calzone—sound like a plan?"
"Works for me."
"So, what's it like around here the rest of the time?"
Dick looked at his cousin, not understanding. "What do you mean?"
"When no one's here, when you're just hanging out. What's it like, what do you do?"
What an odd question. "I don't know—it's like anyplace, I guess. I read, I work out, do homework." He half shrugged. "You know, normal stuff, nothing special." Track down Joker and Catwoman, lead the Titans, sometimes go off-world, hang out with the Justice League—just the same old.
"Yeah?"
"Well, yeah—it's just a house, y'know." Well, all right. "Okay, it's a big house, but it's just, it's just a big house." Did that sound really lame? Probably, but it was true. Sure, it had a lot of rooms and all the stuff like the pools and the quads and all the expensive toys, but it was just a house when you came down to it with a kitchen and bedrooms and bathrooms and all the usual stuff.
"Was it hard to get used to? I mean after your parents—you know, after you had to move?"
Dick nodded. "We, my parents and I, used to live in this trailer and it was really small. I think the bathroom off my room is bigger. We used to eat with the other circus people in a tent—or outside if it was nice and I only owned like two pairs of jeans and a couple of tee shirts—and a sweatshirt in case it got cold." Peter looked like he was going to say he was sorry or something.
No, that wasn't what he meant. He didn't want Peter to feel sorry for him.
"It was all right—I really loved it there. It was like living in a small village where you knew everyone and everyone knew you and looked after you and made sure you were all right all the time. Sometimes the townies would decide to do something stupid and the older kids or the roustabouts would look after the younger kids, make sure we were okay."
"What about school? Did you have teachers or something traveling with you?"
"Most of us were home schooled when we were on the road but when we got to the winter camp—that was down in Florida, we'd go to regular school for a few months. We did fine." Dick had, anyway. When he'd started at St. James, after the accident, he'd been up to speed in every subject and ahead in a couple. The hardest part was learning how to sit still from nine to three. That took years to get used to and he still felt antsy a lot of the time.
"You know my parents were serious about you living with us. I mean they're not going to make you or anything, but I heard them talking about how they could put an addition out the back to add space and build you a room. You don't guess you'd want to do something like that, do you?"
Jesus, Dick had a feeling something was going on but this wasn't going to happen. No way in hell. "I like it here. I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything, but I'm happy right where I am."
"That's about what I told them." Peter knew this was thin ice; they'd sort of talked about it before. "Hey, either way, we're still cousins, right? We'll come visit you here in your palace and you can come slumming at our house—okay? The parents will get over it."
He didn't need this, he really didn't. It had taken him years, but he'd finally begun to feel like this was home—not like with his parents, but as much home as he knew he'd ever get. "Anyway—so what do you want to do tonight?"
"What haven't we done around here yet?"
"There's more to do when it's warm, but maybe we could talk Bruce into a movie."
"Sounds good to me. Calzone, pizza and a flick—it's a plan."
"Master Bruce, the young gentlemen are wondering when you'd be ready to join them for an Italian dinner at Roma's to be followed by a film in town. What may I tell them?"
He was on the computer again, still. "Tell them to find out what time the film starts, let me know and we'll go about ninety minutes before hand—and could you make a reservation at the restaurant for us?"
Left alone, Bruce studied the screen in front of him. Page after page of information was coming in from Barbara and he'd have to make a point of sending her something really nice to thank her for this one.
It seemed that there was more to Philip Lloyd than he'd first thought. Sure he was a big time lawyer who had some money problems; that was the easy stuff to find out and fairly mundane.
This new material was where it became interesting—and would be the edge he needed.
TBC
1/23/05
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