Title: Fitting In / Part 1 of 2

Author: Simon

Characters: Dick/Bruce/Alfred-the usual

Rating: PG

Summary: Newly arrived at the Manor and the new kid in school, Dick tries to fit 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.

Unbetaed. My mistakes, all mine, darnit.

Fitting In

Part One

"Good morning class, please take your seats." The third grade teacher waited a moment. It was the first day back after spring break and the kids were a little wound up. It was the same every year and she knew they'd settle down in a minute.

"I believe I asked you to sit down, if you don't mind. Sit down and be quiet. Today we have a new student with us." Mrs. Connors looked at the child standing just inside the door, giving the impression of wanting to bolt at the least warning. His uniform was new and a little too big. He wore it awkwardly and he was clearly uncomfortable. "This is Richard Grayson, I'm sure you'll all make him feel welcomed and help him to understand how we do things around here. Richard? Would you care to tell us something about yourself?"

The boy shook his head, seemingly not caring about the kids who were all staring at him. There was something else, though—apathy? Sadness? Something was going on with this one, but she'd been a little late this morning herself and missed whatever she may have been told before class.

"Do you like to be called 'Richard'?"

"Most people call me 'Dick'."

"All right, Dick, where did your family move here from?"

"No place, really. We moved around a lot."

There were some snickers from the back row, Mrs. Connors glanced them quiet. "All right, Dick. Why don't you take the empty seat by the window?" Nothing would be gained by forcing the child right now. Maybe the office would be able to tell her something about the boy when the class went down to the library in an hour. "I believe we were going to look over chapter seven in the math book to review for this week's test. Dick? Your books are in your desk. Now, page one seventy-three…"

"Well, you'll want to tread lightly with him, that's all. He's been through a lot and, to tell the truth, I'm not sure how much remedial work he'll need. I think he was mostly home schooled and you know how hit or miss that can be."

Gwen Connors was talking with Ben Stein, the headmaster of St. Patrick's Academy. "How did the poor thing end up with Bruce Wayne, of all people, Ben? He never impressed me as the type to take in an orphan. And the boy is from a circus family? That doesn't strike me as Bruce Wayne's social circle."

"I don't know what the connection is—maybe the families were friends or something along those lines. In any event, the Grayson kid is legally his now and I get the feeling that he'll be keeping a pretty close eye on the boy."

"Has he been seen by the school psychologist?"

"The boy spent most of yesterday with George and he was also given the usual battery of tests; aptitude, achievement and the like. He tests just fine, he's certainly bright enough, but he's withdrawn and closed up—understandable under the circumstances. Now, Wayne hasn't asked for any special treatment or anything like that, I think he's just concerned about the boy making the adjustment."

"Of course."

"Oh, and Gwen? No one talks to the press, understood? No interviews, no off the cuff statements—nothing. And you should tell your kids as well. No sneaked photos, nothing along those lines or Wayne's made it clear he'll pull Richard and probably file some serious invasion of privacy lawsuits as well. He wants the kid protected."

"Well, good for him. At least he seems like he has Dick's best interest at heart."

"So it seems." Ben sipped his coffee. "And I suspect that there may be some less than altruistic interest on the part of some of the parents, as well. After all the publicity with the murders and the upcoming trial and all, well, just be aware of that sort of thing, will you?"

"The poor thing."

"Also, like I said, he's been mostly home schooled, so he may have some trouble adjusting to regular classroom discipline, aside from the academics he may have missed. You may have to work with him on that, too."

"Seems that I have my work cut out for me."

"If you need any help, you know to just give a shout, but I put him in with you since you're so good with the younger kids. Just listen to him, pay attention; you know what to do."

"I don't know, Ben…"

"C'mon, Gwen. You're the one who brought the Model kid out of his funk after losing his mother to cancer last year. You can handle this, too."

"…I'll see what I can do, but this isn't going to be a walk in the park."

"You'll do just fine by him. Just take it easy, that's all."

Recess and the kids were on the playground for free play. It was a nice day, sunny and warm and the girls were either on the swings or standing around talking. The boys had started the daily softball game over in the field and Gwen watched as the new kid stood on the sidelines, not joining in, just watching with a book in his hand.

"Dick? Why don't you go over to the team that's up? The best way to get to know some of the others is to join in, you know."

He looked up at her, shrugged and started to walk away, settling on a bench away from any of the others and began to read. Gwen left him alone for a few minutes then went over, sitting beside him. "What are you reading there?"

"The Incredible Journey."

"That's a wonderful book. Do you like to read, Dick?"

"It's okay."

"You must like animals; do you have any pets?"

"No. I'd play with the circus animals sometimes, but we didn't have room for any pets in the trailer."

A trailer? Oh, dear, the boy was a long way from home in an expensive private school in this neck of the woods. "Which were your favorite animals?"

"The elephants."

"My goodness. Weren't you afraid of something that big?"

He looked at her like she was an idiot. "Why would I be afraid of them?" As if he would be afraid of a family cat.

"Well, they're so big, I guess. Is that what you did in the circus? Work with the animals, I mean."

"No, we were fliers—my parents and me. We flew."

"Flew?"

He gave her that look again, like she was a moron. "Fliers—we flew on the trapeze. That's what we did. My parents and me, we had an act and we flew without a net. There are only three people in the world that can do a quad and I'm one of them. Even my Dad couldn't so one, he could only turn a triple, but last year I started being able to do a quad and just before Thanksgiving we put it in the act." He went on, his eyes fixed somewhere about forty feet above a sawdust ring. "Mom wanted me to use a net, but after a while my Dad said I could do it just fine and so he let me try it with the net on the floor and I was fine with it. He always caught me, even if I was a little bit off or something, he always caught me and he was strong enough that it wasn't ever a problem, even if I didn't get a real good grip—he could hold on and I knew I wouldn't fall. I knew it and so I wasn't ever afraid. He'd never let me fall." The boy stopped, his eyes on the gravel. "I don't know when I'll get to fly again, though."

She put her arm around him, he was such a sweet thing, really and going through such a hard time right now. "I tell you what, when we get back to the classroom, why don't you tell the rest of the children what you and your parents used to do. I bet they'd be pretty impressed and I know none of them can do anything like you can. Would you do that? You could let them get to know you a little bit that way."

"No."

Just like that, 'no'. "Why not, Dick? They're really pretty nice when you give them a chance."

"…They're townies."

Good Lord, the boy was nothing if not definite. "Honey, if you give them a chance I think you'll find that you could make some friends."

His eyes still on the ground, he spoke so softly she had to listen carefully to catch what he said. "I don't want them to be my friends. I have friends at the circus and I don't need any more. I want to—I don't want to be here. Bruce said I had to stay with him, but I want to go back to the circus, I want to see Pop and the others and I want to join one of the other acts and keep doing what I've been doing all my life. Even if my Mom and Dad can't be there, I want to go back home." She heard the bell ring, calling them back for the next period. She out her arm around his thin shoulders and gave a small squeeze which he shrugged out of without saying anything. Slowly he walked back to the school building alone, ignoring the clusters and groups of other children around him. This boy would need more than just a little encouragement; He was coping with the deaths of his parents, a new home and the loss of his circus community on top of being shoved into a new school. It would likely be a good while before he made the adjustment.

"Hello? This is Gwen Connors, Dick's teacher. Would Mr. Wayne be available?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Connors. I'm afraid that Mr. Wayne isn't home yet, is there a problem? Is Master Dick all right?"

"Oh, dear, whom am I speaking with?"

"I'm Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne's butler. The boy isn't hurt, is he?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I was hoping to be able to set up a meeting with Mr. Wayne to discuss Dick and his adjustment to St. Patrick's. Would it be possible to find a time this week?"

"I'm afraid that I don't arrange Mr. Wayne's schedule for him, but I'm sure that he'll be anxious to speak with you. Is the boy having problems?"

"Well, there's a lot going on for an eight year old to deal with. If you could give Mr. Wayne the message to call me, I'd appreciate it, Mr. Pennyworth."

"I'll see to it he receives your request, madam"

Evidently the butler forwarded the message immediately, as Gwen got a call within twenty minutes. "Mrs. Connors? This is Bruce Wayne calling. I understand that you wish with me to meet to discuss Dick's adjustment to St. Patrick's?"

"Yes, I would, if you could. Would you have time this week?"

"Tomorrow? What time would be convenient for you? I can work with whatever time you have."

"That's very generous of you—say, three-thirty tomorrow at the school? The children get out at two forty-five so we should be able to talk undisturbed. I mean, if that's all right with you?"

"Of course, I'll be there. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I'll be waiting in room 107."

She was sitting at her desk the next afternoon, grading papers with the inevitable red pen. The day had gone fairly well, though Dick had refused to read aloud when it was his turn and he hadn't participated during recess again. It was early yet, but he wasn't interacting with any of the kids so far and she would like to see that changed.

"Mrs. Connors?" He was a tall man, handsome but gave off an air of vapidity that seemed at odds with the beautifully tailored suit and impeccable grooming.

She stood up and took his hand. "Mr. Wayne? Thank you for coming so quickly. I hope it wasn't a problem for you to meet me in the middle of a working day like this."

He smiled a slightly vacant smile. "Oh, one of the advantages of owning the company is that I don't have to worry about the boss getting angry." He sat in the only other adult sized chair in the room. "You said you're worried about Dick?"

"Well, more concerned than worried. He's still very new here and I'm afraid that his starting in a new school where he doesn't know anyone, especially so soon after losing his parents the way he did—well, it's difficult for him."

"Yes, it is. Do you have any specific things to discuss or…" He waved his hands vaguely, "Did you just want to chat about him?"

"I was hoping that you could give me some idea of what, exactly, I'm really dealing with here. For instance, if you don't mind my asking, how is it that Dick came to stay with you? Were you a friend of his parents?"

"Oh, things like that? No, I never met the Graysons, but I understand that they were lovely people. I decided to take in Dick—he's my legal ward, you know, so he's pretty much my son. At least that's what the lawyers tell me. At any rate, I was at the circus for a charity evening my company was sponsoring. Have you ever been to a circus? I always get such a kick out of the clowns, myself—oh, and bear acts. I just love them."

"Yes, they are fun, aren't they? And when you were at the circus, did you meet Dick there?" This man couldn't be as dumb as he seemed. It wasn't possible.

"Well—he's quite a boy, isn't he? I looked up and there were these people on the trapeze and they were really good. I don't know how they do those things, I tell you. If it were me, I would have been in a cold sweat just thinking about how high up I was, but they were just sailing along and then I saw they had this child with them. Dick, I mean. He was up there with them and he did a stunt, a somersault from one bar to another and—the ringmaster said it was a quadruple sommersault, can you imagine, at his age? Well, I thought my eyes would pop."

He was smiling, thinking about the boy doing what had been his job until recently. It was actually sort of sweet. "And then…?"

"Oh, it was just terrible. Dick finished his part and had climbed down and was watching his parents and their ropes just broke. Those poor people fell. Good Lord, you could hear their bodies hitting the dirt and people were screaming. It was just horrible."

"It sounds awful."

"Oh, it was. People were running around and all. That's when I noticed poor Dick—I mean, I didn't know his name then, of course, but I saw him all by himself so I went over to talk to him. You see, I lost my parents when I was about his age, so I guess I thought, well, I don't know. I guess I thought that maybe I had an idea what he was going through."

"I'm sure you did, Mr. Wayne. That was kind of you to be concerned about him."

He had a guileless look on his face, a sort of 'You think so'? "Well, the child welfare people showed up a little while later and took charge of him and I guess I just thought he'd end up with his relatives or someone like that, but about a month later I learned that he'd been—I guess you could call it 'lost in the system'. So I asked around and decided that maybe I could help." He gave her that vapid, puppy-dog smile, spread his hands and shrugged. "So, here we are."

"I see. That was very generous of you, taking in a child like that. But, why didn't his relatives give him a home—if you don't mind my asking."

"Oh, of course not. I gather that they're a little tight, money-wise. And some are too busy. A couple of them live in Europe and don't seem to speak English. There were problems."

"Does Dick know this?"

"I'm afraid that he does, poor kid. He was pretty upset about that—can't really blame, him, you know." There was real anger behind the light comment and the bland eyes.

"I was wondering if he's receiving some kind of professional help to deal with the trauma and his grief? I don't want to intrude, but I think it may be helpful for him if he isn't."

"He's taken a liking to an old family friend of mine who's quite a good doctor. He likes to tell her his problems."

"I'm sure that's a big help for him, Mr. Wayne. When I called you yesterday, a man answered, a Mr. Pennyworth? Does he live in?"

"Alfred? Oh, yes. He runs the old place, really. Sometimes I think it would fall down around our ears without him."

"How does he get along with Dick?"

Well, that was a problem. "I think he's still sort of getting used to having a child around the house—all those muddy footprints and fingerprint smears in the kitchen. And that boy can never seem to pick up a towel. I don't know what it is about him and towels…"

"So he's not close to Mr. Pennyworth?"

"Gosh, these things take time, don't they? I think that soon they'll be best friends, though. You mark my words about that."

Uh-huh. Sure they would. "Excellent. Does he have any friends his own age to play with?"

"Um, no, not yet. There aren't too many kids in the neighborhood I live in, I guess."

Gwen vaguely recalled that the Wayne estate was something over four hundred acres. Of course there weren't any kids around. "You may want to set up some play dates with a few of the boys in the class."

"Oh, all right. You think he'd like that? I mean, I want him to be happy, you know."

"Every child needs friends, Mr. Wayne."

"Well, of course they do! Are there any in particular you'd recommend?"

The man couldn't really be this dense, he simply couldn't. "You might want to ask Dick if he has anyone he'd like to invite over. Maybe there are some children in the class he'd like to get to know a little better."

He slapped his knee, big smile on his face. "Why, that's an great idea and I'll do it as soon as I get home. I really can't thank you enough, Mrs. Connors, no, I really can't." He got up and started for the door.

"Mr. Wayne? I wasn't quite finished, if you have a few more minutes."

"Why, of course, of course. You'll have to excuse me; it's just that sometimes when I hear a good idea like this I want to get started right away. There was something else you wanted to talk about?"

"Are you aware that Dick was home schooled before he was enrolled here?"

"Well, yes, now that you mention it. I believe that I did hear something about his mother being his teacher. Is that a problem? He seems pretty smart to me."

I'll bet he does. "Yes, he's quite bright and academically he's just fine. In fact, he's ahead of the class in several areas. The problem is that he's not used to being confined at a desk as long as the students here are during classes. He's restless and has trouble sitting still."

"Oh dear. What do you suggest?" Of course Dick wasn't used to sitting so long. He was used to getting up to do a matinee or play with a lion or something.

"Maybe if he had something to do after school or on the weekend to help him get rid of some of his energy, that would be helpful. Maybe a sports program or something along those lines."

He stared at her for a long second then slapped his leg again. "I'll do it!" He was already planning a program of training anyway and, with any luck; it would help with two problems—his restlessness in class and his becoming Batman's partner. It might even take a small part of his mind off his parent's deaths, at least for a little while and Dick had shown his first real enthusiasm when he'd asked if he'd like to help catch the men who'd hurt his parents. He hadn't spoken about much else since Bruce has suggested it. He still had to tell him about being Batman, but maybe they could move that up a bit if it would help…he'd hoped to resolve one of the boy's problems first, though. He seemed to pause for a second, as though he was trying to figure out how to phrase a question. Finally, "I was wondering something. I know this may sound a little silly, but have you noticed that sometimes he's a little, I don't know—a little angry about this and that? I think sometimes he just seems a little mad at the whole world. He even threw a book the other day—Alfred was very put out when it happened. Does he ever do that here in class?"

If Dick couldn't get a handle on his rage, he wouldn't be able to help when Bruce went out at night. Catching Zucco would probably be the one real thing that would do the boy the most good.

Mrs. Connors seemed to look at him with something close to sympathy. "No, he's never really acted out here, at least not yet. If anything, he's withdrawn and really a little too quiet when he's in school. That's perfectly normal, though, after what he's been through. I wouldn't worry yet, as long as he has someone he can confide in, someone he trusts, that should help. And when he does act out like that, you need to understand that he has a lot of anger right now he simply doesn't know how to deal with it. He's almost abandoned by his family and I'm sure he doesn't understand that. He needs you to help him now, Mr. Wayne and it's not going to be an easy job for anyone involved." She stood up, holding out her hand for Bruce to shake. "Thank you for coming in this afternoon, Mr. Wayne. I know how busy you are and it was good of you to make the time so quickly. And make sure he gets to speak with that family friend he confides in, all right?"

"Oh, glad to do, glad to do it. Anything that can make it a little easier for the boy, well, that's what I'm here for."

"Of course. And if there's anything I can do to help, please call me. It's not an imposition at all." They were at the classroom door. "Do make a point of seeing he has some children his own age to interact with, all right? I think that will help him."

"I sure will. Thanks again." He walked down the hall, almost too fast, waving airily as he went. How could this moron have been given custody of that child? Money—money talks; that was that answer. He seemed like he was, in his incredibly limited way, concerned about Dick, but—dear God. That poor child.

On the drive back to the Manor Bruce thought about what the woman had said. It all made sense, of course; It had been two months since the murders, but Dick was still in shock, when you came down to it and still deeply traumatized by everything that had happened over the last six weeks; Leslie had confirmed as much. The teacher said he was quiet and withdrawn in school, but at the Manor he flipped between complete denial—acting like everything was fine, laughing, making jokes and careening all over the house and grounds, exploring and running Alfred ragged. Then when he didn't think he was being watched the anger he did his best to hide came out, and that seemed to be growing by the day.

The anger would manifest itself in tantrums, thrown objects—he'd even kicked Alfred in the shins last week when he hadn't wanted to go to bed when told. The boy had apologized immediately, genuinely contrite and then burst into tears of embarrassment and sadness, going on about how even though he knew his parents were dead, he still wanted them. An hour later, he'd finally cried himself to sleep, carried upstairs without waking.

They had to catch Zucco. That was the key. He was convinced and if Dick could help in the arrest or somehow aid in the capture, it would be all to the better. That was the only thing Bruce could think of that would give the boy real closure.

"Did Mrs. Connors tell you to take me out of school?"

Dick met him in the entranceway of the manor. He was sitting on the bottom of the main staircase and apparently was waiting for Bruce to get home. Crossing the inlaid floor, he sat next to the child.

"Of course not, she likes you very much and she tells me that you're one of the smartest kids in your class."

Obviously not believing this, Dick pressed on. "So why did you have to leave work early to go talk to her and why couldn't I be there?"

"She's just a little concerned that you're quiet in class, that's all. She's afraid that you're not used to sitting still all day and that you don't know any of the other kids."

Dick nodded. "It's hard to sit that long."

"I know it is. It was hard when I was in school, too. You get used to it, though. You'll see."

Not convinced, Dick let out a sigh. "The other kids don't like me." He stopped for a moment, then decided to go on. "They call me the 'circus freak' and 'elephant boy'."

"The other kids don't know you, at least not yet—you're still the new kid. How would you like to get to know a couple of them better? You could invite one or two of your classmates over this weekend—you could use the pool if you'd like."

"Nobody would come."

"I bet they would; have you asked anyone?"

Dick shook his head, eyes on the floor.

"I tell you what, if I make the calls, would you be willing to give it a try? If it doesn't work, if you don't have a good time, we can drop the idea. 'That sound fair?"

With less than no enthusiasm, Dick nodded. "…Okay."

"Tell me the names of the ones you'd like to have over and I'll call this evening after dinner, all right?"

"Sure. Thank you." He seemed to be dreading it. He also still seemed awkward with Bruce, treating him as the proverbial rich uncle you only see once or so a year and have to wear your best clothes and mind your manners around.

"You know that this is your house now, as well as mine, don't you?" He put his arm around the child's thin shoulders. "This is your home now, just as much as it's mine and Alfred's."

Dick regarded him with an expression that belonged on an older face. "No, this is your house, I just live here." With that, the boy left, climbing the stairs up to his room, Bruce staring after him.

When Dick was out of sight, Alfred approached Bruce from the living room entryway, polishing cloth in hand. "Oh, dear. Did his teacher have any suggestions?"

"She thinks it would help if he had some friends his own age and she thinks he should get involved in some sports or something to burn off his extra energy." His voice was flat, with little expression. "And he should keep seeing Leslie so he can talk out his feelings."

"Both seem like reasonable suggestions."

"Yes, I suppose they do." He paused, as though gathering either his thoughts or his nerve, both unusual for him. After a moment, "Do you think it was a mistake to bring him to live here? I realize he's going through an adjustment period, but do you think this was the right thing to do?"

If he expected Alfred to give him an easy answer, he was wrong.

"Well, obviously the child couldn't very well stay where he was, now, could he? And to leave him to the roulette wheel of the foster care system was hardly an option, once you decided to become involved, now, was it? You know, better than I do, what the chances are of a traumatized child of his age being adopted—most people want infants, not a young boy who'll need a great deal of attention and specialized care and who comes with a bit of baggage." He gave Bruce a look. "This was quite a good option for the young master, all things considered."

"…I just hope…"

"Yes, sir?"

"That we do the right thing by him, that's all."

"We'll do the best we can. If I say so myself, it worked fairly well with you, you know."

"Well, this time, let's hope two's the charm."

TBC

7/10/05

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