Title: Man on the Bench-part eight
Author: Simon
Characters: Dick Grayson and Manor crew, plus OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bruce is in a snit, Grandpa readies his plan
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.
The Man on the Bench
Part Eight"Is this all you have for me? I could have gotten that myself by reading old copies of People and GQ. Get me something I don't know; you hear me?"
"But Mr. Lloyd, we've been looking—no one will say anything. It's like he's paid off everyone on the East Coast or something. Either that or the bastard's really that clean."
"No one is that clean, you understand me? I want to know everything there is to know about Bruce Wayne up to and including what brand of underwear he prefers. Who's that old man, that servant who's always around: What's his story? How does he treat my grandson? What happens when Wayne is away on a business trip, who looks after the boy? Does Dick have any friends, and who are they? Is Dick taken care of in Wayne's will, is he the actual heir and if not, who is? What about all the women Wayne is seen with? I want to know about them as well; is he serious about any of them or is he just playing around? And I want to know what exactly is between Wayne and the boy. I've heard too many rumors to discount them out of hand, you listening to me?"
"Yes, Mr. Lloyd, it may take a little time, but we'll get it for you."
"See that you do—Tony Zucco still owes me from five years ago, and he won't be happy if this isn't done right."
"Yes, sir. You don't have to worry. It'll be right, I promise."
"…Good, make sure it is."
"But I wasn't really doing anything, Bruce. I really wasn't."
"Just enough to get noticed by a company rep and offered a sponsorship deal. How many times do I have go over this with you? You know what's at stake here but you still had to go out there and show off."
Bruce was as angry as either Dick or Alfred had seen him, and that was going some.
"I wasn't showing off, I was just having fun—Christ, Bruce, maybe you've heard of the concept?"
Bruce fixed him with the glare. The bat glare. The one that brokered no debate.
"You may go up to your room. You're grounded for the rest of the month, and Robin is taking that time off as well."
"Grounded? For what? For having a good time for once, for not watching every little thing for a change? You can't do that, it's not fair."
"Few things are, now get upstairs. I'm sure you have some homework you can be doing."
"Jesus."
"Two months. You want to go for three?"
"This is complete horse shit. You know, in the real world you would—maybe—might even be proud of the fact that guy thought I was good enough to be offered a deal to travel and board and get paid for it, but we know this isn't the real world, don't we?"
"That's enough. Get yourself upstairs now." Bruce's voice had taken on that tone that could even freeze the Joker, but Dick had heard it too many times to be phased by it.
"Or what?"
Oh, dear, time to intercede. "Master Richard, if I might suggest, perhaps a short cooling off period for all of us might be in order before things are said which would later be regretted. Master Bruce? Perhaps you might wish to finish what you were working on in the cave. Master Richard? I believe you do have some homework to finish, as a matter of fact." No one moved. "Both of you, please. Now."
The two antagonists just stared at one another. It was more than Alfred was willing to bear this afternoon: He actually raised his voice. "I said now, gentlemen."
That did it. Dick shot him a look, turned, then headed out of the room and up the stairs. Bruce, left and headed down leaving Alfred with the distinct impression of two prizefighters going to their separate corners.
Silence reigned, at least for now.
Really, the way those two would go at one another hammer and nail, banging away with neither listening to the other could become most exasperating in too short order. Of course, the master was concerned about the young master exposing their identities to revelation but then, Master Dick was rightly proud of his abilities.
Really, they could simply be so—tiresome on occasion.
The outcome here was as plain as a bump on a log. The master would brood and maintain a glowering silence for a while, perhaps a good while as he was exceedingly vexed and the young master would be equally angry but would excise it in extended sessions in the gym, stopping only when he had exhausted himself.
In a week, perhaps two, the master would relent and they would be back to normal and not a moment too soon for everyone involved.
Unless, of course, Master Dick decided to utilize his new option and stay with his cousins. The master must have thought of that as a possibility; he always thought of everything. He must realize the child had somewhere else to go, not that anyone really believed he ever would.
Of course he wouldn't. This was his home and, blood aside, Master Bruce and (dare he say it?) Alfred were his family as much as the people he'd only just met.
Of course, there was hardly a child born who didn't think life would somehow be better elsewhere. The grass was always greener, after all.
On Thursday evening Dick and Peter were talking on the phone. It was something Peter's parents encouraged and Bruce hadn't been told about, though he likely knew anyway. It had become a nightly thing lately and both boys were starting to think of the other as their new best friend, especially since Dick hadn't seen any of the Titans in weeks and, now that he was grounded, probably wouldn't be seeing them anytime soon.
"Peter? What are you guys doing this weekend?"
"Hey, Dick. I don't know. I guess we're either going up to the condo or to some basketball game my father has tickets for in Gotham. He and Grandpa are sort of major Golden fans and they think they may make the play offs this year so they're all excited about seeing the game on Saturday. Why?"
"I was just wondering."
"What did Bruce say when he heard about you getting that offer? He must have been pretty impressed, right? Did you show him that board you got? That was an eight hundred dollar board and Brad just gave it to you—that was awesome."
"He was, I don't know, he was sort of mad."
"No way. Why would he get pissed about you being really good? That's stupid."
"Yeah, well he, um, he doesn't like it when he thinks I'm showing off."
Peter had gotten to know Dick well enough to know there was more going on here than what was coming out in the stilted sentences. "Is he pissed that you're spending time with us?"
"I don't know. Maybe. He thinks…" How to say this? "He thinks I have enough important stuff to keep me busy, more than enough, and I guess he doesn't want me to lose focus or something."
"Important stuff? Like what?"
Being Robin, crime fighting, secret identities, staying on the honor roll, leading the Titans, fighting intergalactic villains, cleaning his room; just your regular kid stuff. "You know, school and stuff and he wants me to start learning about his business so I can work there when I get older. Stuff like that."
"Yeah, but you're on the honor roll and it's not like you're going to be interning or leaving for Harvard this week or anything; what's his problem?"
"He's okay, he's just, I guess he wants me to just concentrate on things he thinks are important right now."
"Yeah, well someone should clue him in that you're fourteen, not twenty-four."
"But I started working when I was four so he expects me to be really responsible."
"And how is you being really good at something and spending time with your family irresponsible?"
"It's…hard to explain." A moment of silence then Dick came back on the line, seemingly having made a conscious decision to shake off this mood and be more like himself. "Hey, I was wondering, if I can talk Bruce into it, you want to get together this weekend?"
"Yeah, sure, great. Your place or ours?"
"Um, I don't usually invite myself places, but I've never really spent time at your house. You think your parents would mind?"
"God, are you kidding? They'd love it. Oh wait, shit…"
"What? Problem? I can make it some other time."
"No, it's not that. It's just that my dad may not have enough tickets for the game."
"Oh. Well, if it's okay, I could maybe ask Bruce. He has a skybox at the arena. Well, really Wayne Corp owns it, but we can use it. We can all fit in there; it's pretty big. Would Uncle James mind that?"
"Yeah, right, he'd completely hate it—not. Well, unless if the champagne is domestic."
"Well, why don't you ask Aunt Pat and if she's okay with it I'll ask Alfred if he can give me a ride. Would that work?"
Dick could hear Peter yelling to his mother; 'Mom, is it all right if Dick comes over this weekend?…Thanks.' "She's good with it."
"Okay, great. I'll talk to Alfred and call you back later."
Dick found Alfred where he usually was, in the kitchen cleaning something, and asked him about a visit to Connecticut that weekend.
"I believe the master declared that you're grounded, if you'll recall. You'll need to take the matter up with him. However, I would suggest that you make sure that you're capable of maintaining a calm demeanor before you approach him."
Ten minutes later down in the Batcave, Dick asked Bruce. "I'd like to see my cousins this weekend. They said I could stay at their house and my uncle and grandfather want to see the Golden's game on Saturday."
Bruce wasn't sure where this was coming from. Sure Dick was upset, for that matter so was he, but the boy knew that he was grounded and the last thing Bruce wanted was for him to be spending time there with his grandfather about to spring something. Well, at least he was speaking in a normal voice and was asking in a reasonable manner. Not that he was happy Dick was forgetting he was grounded for two months.
"You know I wanted you to stay around here. Why would you think that I would agree…"
"Can I go see my family? C'mon, Bruce, you know this isn't a normal situation for any of us. I want to see my cousins, that's not so hard to understand."
After Alfred had made clear his feelings about Bruce coming down so hard on Dick with several long suffering sighs and a highly arched eyebrow, Bruce was inclined to be more lenient than he would have been otherwise, but that didn't change the fact that he didn't want Dick anywhere near his grandfather until the dust was settled.
"Of course it isn't, but I'd like it of you spend a little more time around here; you know, since you met your cousins the two of us have hardly spent any time together and I was thinking that we could get away ourselves this weekend. You have Friday off; I was thinking we could go somewhere warm. What would you say to that?"
The look on Dick's face spoke volumes. "That would be great, but I was really hoping that I could see my cousins."
"So bring them along. We can take the jet to the place in the Bahamas; it will make a nice change from skiing."
"…Really?"
Bruce gave one of his rare genuine smiles. "Tell them that your aunt can come along if she wants, too." Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Besides, this would work well with what he'd been setting up the last few days. Neither Lloyd or Simpson would be able to get away this weekend and so they'd have no reason to suspect what was going on.
"Bruce, God, you're the best! Thank you—this is going to be awesome." He was half way to the stairs when, "Um…am I still grounded?"
"I may have been hasty with that." Dick was about to bolt to call when Bruce's voice stopped him. "By the way, I think I might have forgotten to mention it, but even though you should have known better; I was pretty impressed that you landed a sponsorship deal without even trying. I knew you were good, but I guess I hadn't realized just how good you've gotten on that thing."
Dick's look of pride and happiness was worth everything.
Dick called the Simpsons to extend the invitation which was accepted immediately. His uncle and grandfather would have to decline as they had work they couldn't put off, but the rest would love to go. Yes, by all means the kids could leave school early on Thursday to drive down to the commercial airport where Bruce kept his plane. Wonderful, thank you, they were all excited about it and thrilled to be invited. They'd be there early.
Everyone was happy; Bruce had kept Dick away from his grandfather and uncle, Dick wasn't grounded and would be seeing his cousins, his cousins were going on a private jet to a billionaire's beach house in the Bahamas, James would see the game from courtside and Philip would be able to find out what the private detective had learned.
As soon as he knew Bruce Wayne's dirty secrets—and everyone had some, he would be ready to play his hand.
"Well, what did you find?"
"It's all in there, including pictures."
"Is there enough to do what I want?"
"I think you'll be satisfied, Mr. Lloyd. Wayne is a pretty closed up kind of guy, but we managed to find a few things he'd rather not have spread around."
"Good."
Philip opened the thick manila envelope and pulled out the papers. There were pictures of Wayne with at least twenty-five different women over the last couple of years, all beautiful and all hanging on his arm. There were records of at least a dozen paternity suits filed against the man since he'd been in college, though none of them had found for the various plantiffs. There was a copy of the guardianship papers for Dick, along with copies of Wayne's holdings and details of his assets and net worth. There were pictures of the main house and his various vacation properties around the world.
There was an extensive listing of Wayne's personal interests and charitable pursuits along with every club or organization the man had ever belonged to.
There were copies of his report cards going back to first grade.
There were character assessments from everyone from his old classmates to his employees to his neighbors.
There was a copy of an old speeding ticket from college; sixty in a twenty-five mile an hour zone.
Somehow, there was a copy of his current will, judging by the date and this was something Philip was interested in reading in detail.
There were a number of newspaper and tabloid stories about the rumors concerning the relationship between Wayne and Dick, along with a couple of things suggesting that the old butler was an odd duck, as well. There might be some serious ammunition there.
Last, but most certainly not least, was a copy of Mary and John's assets at the time of their deaths along with the details of Dick's trust. It confirmed what he'd suspected, though the numbers he'd been playing with were far too small. His fourteen year old grandson seemed to have a personal net worth in excess of fifty million dollars which he would take control of when he turned twenty-one.
Jesus.
"Bruce? I just wanted you to know that all that fake information we planted seems to have been photographed or copied, just like we thought it would be."
"You're sure, Lucius?"
"Positive."
"Good, keep me informed."
The plane landed on the out island two hours after it took off with only one surprisingly polite photographer to record their arrival for the media. The Wayne household had almost no luggage as they kept clothes and such on hand in each of Bruce's houses, so as soon as the guests bags were gathered a short water taxi ride had them on the private island in time for a swim.
As was to be expected, it was a showplace with a dozen large rooms, two guest cottages, tile floors, high ceilings, rattan and bamboo furniture softened with oversized cushions, three private reef-protected beaches for their use and all the possible toys one would assume would be in such a place. Jet skis, motor and sail boats, scuba and snorkeling equipment, fishing rods and a state of the art computer was at their disposal along with the more plebian pool and ping pong tables. Even Alfred had the luxury of a live-in staff to help him and admitted they were acceptably competent.
Should they get bored, they were a short boat ride to the neighboring islands for shopping and restaurants.
Bruce took the boys water skiing the first day, teaching the cousins who had never tried before and encouraging Dick to try skiing bare foot for the first time and praising him when he made a complete circuit around their own small island. Tomorrow he promised they could try parasailing if they thought they could handle it.
It was paradise.
Back in New York, Philip's investigation had started, bringing up all the old allegations of impropriety between Bruce Wayne and his under-aged ward.
Aware of what was happening, Batman slammed the door of the Batmobile in a rare display of anger, wheels squealing as he went out for the night's work.
The lights were still on at ten-thirty in Philip Lloyd's office. The man was there working along, putting the finishing touches on the complaint that would be filed Monday morning.
"I thought we had an understanding about you leaving this alone."
Lloyd knew he had a strong circumstantial case, and therefore, he had nothing to fear from this man. "I'm protecting my grandson. I have reason to believe he's in danger of being sexually abused. There are also suspicions that he's being kept away from contact and normal friendships with young people his own age, as well as suggestions that there are some financial dealings which indicate possible impropriety."
"Indeed?"
"I have pictures and sworn statements that will hold up in any court." That was a bluff, but it sounded good.
Batman produced a sheaf of papers and laid them on the desk.
The man disappeared again, just as he had the last time. Curious, but calm, Philip started to skim the things he'd been given but after a few words, started reading closely. Then he started from the beginning and read them all again.
Gone cold, he picked up the report he was preparing, along with the research, pictures and files he'd had done to support his case. Page by page, he fed them into the shredder by the side of his desk. When he was done, he fed the papers and pictures Batman had just given him into the machine as well.
TBC
1/27/05
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