The Wayne family's nighttime activities were not for the faint of heart. They saw things that would give grown people nightmares on a nightly basis. And, despite their best efforts, some nights, they got hurt.
While most of the injuries were just bruises, the entire family had scars that would never fully heal. But part of leading a double life was knowing how to hide these scars. The boys were all careful. But unfortunately, they couldn't always predict what would happen.
Jason swaggered into the boy's locker room with the satisfaction of having crushed his classmates. Gym was always an easy class for him, and he cherished the opportunity to show off.
Jason let his body relax as he stepped into the locker room shower. The school day was over, he had finished his homework early for once, and he was ready to go home and lie on the couch till dinner.
The bell signaling the end of the school day rang just as Jason wrapped a towel around this waist. He reached for his clothes that he left hanging on a hook just outside the shower, but they were gone. From just beyond the curtain, he could hear the classmates he had just dominated laughing as they ran out, presumably with his clothes.
"Damn it." He muttered as he slunk over to his locker. He texted Dick the situation and begged for his brother to bring him some clothes ASAP. Just as the text sent, Jason heard the locker room door opening again.
He was about to snap at the jerks who stole his stuff when he realized it was just Coach Foreman, the gym teacher. "Care to tell me what you're still doing here, Todd-Wayne?" The man asked firmly. "Someone took my stuff while I was in the shower, sir." Jason explained.
Coach Foreman was about to ask a follow-up question when he noticed the fresh scars and bruises across the boy's exposed chest. "What happened to you?" The coach asked, with genuine concern. They played some rough games in his class, but nothing that should have the boy this hurt.
"It's nothing." Jason said quickly, wishing he could pull his towel up higher. "Did someone do this to you?" Foreman persisted. Before Jason had to answer, Dick came in with his brother's replacement clothes. Jason gave Dick a look, pleading for his older brother to get them out of there.
"Mr. Grayson-Wayne do you know anything about why your brother is all beat up?" Coach Foreman asked, hoping Dick was still the honest boy that had been in his class years before.
Dick's eyes darted around nervously. "You know how it is, sir." He started. "Jason ticked off the wrong people." Foreman raised a brow, but Dick threw Jason his clothes. "Hurry up Jay. Dad's already outside, and you know how he gets when we're late."
The boys got out of there as fast as they could and promptly forgot about their little close call until the next day.
Damian wracked his brain for logical assumptions as to why he had been called to the headmaster's office so early in the school day.
He hadn't gotten in any fights lately. He'd been quite patient with his teacher and classmates for the past few weeks. He hadn't even provoked anyone. What could the headmaster possibly want with him?
Damian was just about stumped until he walked into the office waiting room and found his brothers already there. "I should have known you three would be involved." Damian grumbled as he took a seat. "Hey, I never do anything." Tim reminded. "Jase, what did you do, and how are we involved?" Dick asked warningly.
"Why do you always assume that I did something?" Jason asked incredulously. Before his brothers could begin listing the numerous times he'd done something stupid and dragged them down with him, the headmaster beckoned them into his office.
None of the boys were strangers to meeting with the headmaster, but they were all confused to find Coach Foreman and Ms. Smyth, the guidance counselor, there as well.
"Now, before we get started, I want to make it exceedingly clear that none of you boys are in any trouble." The headmaster told them. "We just want to ask you some questions about what Coach Foreman saw in the locker room yesterday afternoon."
Tim and Damian were at a loss, but Dick and Jason went stiff. They should have known they wouldn't get away with their weak excuse that easily.
"You need to understand we just want you boys to be safe." Ms. Smyth was saying. "Bruises don't just show up out of nowhere, and if someone is hurting you, Jason, you need to tell us so we can make it stop."
"We told you I got in a fight." Jason said gruffly. "While that is what you said Mr. Todd-Wayne, we don't have you reported for any physical altercation this week." The headmaster informed. "And from what I saw, most of those cuts were fresh." The coach added.
"Now, I'm going to ask you boys something, and I need an answer." Ms. Smyth said softly as if she was talking to a scared animal. "Did your father do this to you?" The boys all had similar expressions of mixed fear, sickness, and disbelief.
Bruce personally ensured that all of their suits were armored as possible. Alfred had to stop him from baby-proofing the manor. Bruce even pulled his punches whenever they trained. How could anyone ever suggest that he would ever hurt his sons?
"You boys are being excused for the day." The headmaster sighed when none of them answered. "Your father has been called, and Ms. Smyth will escort you home."
The Wayne boys were all silent as they collected their things and got into the guidance counselor's car. "Asta e rău." (This is bad.) Dick whispered to his brothers in quick Romanian. "Fără rahat Dickhead." (No shit Dickhead.) Jason growled. "Voi ucide tâmpitele vestiare." (I'm gonna kill those locker-room assholes.)
"Răzbunarea deoparte. Avem o problemă reală aici." (Vengeance aside. We have a real problem here.) Damian reminded them.
"Dacă Bruce este arestat pentru abuz asupra copiilor, cine știe ce se va întâmpla cu noi." (If Bruce gets arrested for child abuse, who knows what'll happen to us.) Tim said nervously, his brain already running through every terrible scenario. "Nu dracu '! Nu mă întorc în sistem." (Oh hell no! I am not going back into the system.) Jason sneered.
"Nimeni nu merge nicăieri." (No one's going anywhere.) Dick assured. "Bruce nu le lasă să ne ia. Trebuie doar să-l facem să pară tatăl perfect." (Bruce won't let them take us. We just need to make him look like the perfect Daddy.)
III
Bruce was pacing on the front steps when the car pulled up. "Daddy!/Father!" Tim and Damian yelled as they ran to him. Bruce pulled them into a tight hug as if he hadn't seen them in months. "It's ok boys. It's ok." He said softly, trying to convince himself as much as them.
"Bruce, I'm sorry. I didn't know those jerks were going to do something like this. I should've been more careful. I'm sorry." Jason gushed all at once. Bruce pulled the older boys into the hug. "It's ok Jay. It's not your fault." He promised. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Don't you worry."
"I wouldn't make promises I couldn't keep if I were you, Mr. Wayne." Called a voice that made Dick flinch and move as close to Bruce as he could.
Bruce almost scowled as Gretchen Hatcher walked over from her car. She had been Dick's caseworker and had played a role in all his boys' adoptions. Bruce didn't trust her, and Dick had been as scared of her as the inmates at the juvenile detention center she put him in.
"Boys, go inside and get out of your uniforms." Bruce told them. "Preferably into t-shirts and shorts." Ms. Hatcher ordered. "I'll need to check just how badly these boys are being hit."
Bruce bit down on his tongue to keep from lashing out at this insinuation. He wanted this woman off his property and away from his boys. But the only way to do that was to let her conduct her interviews and give them the all-clear.
Bruce motioned for the boys to be quiet when they came into the living room. Ms. Hatcher was setting up for their individual interviews in his office, and they couldn't risk her walking in on anything incriminating.
"Ma hi alkhutat ya 'abi?" (What's the plan Father?) Damian asked, switching to Arabic and hoping this Hatcher woman wasn't multi-lingual. "'Iidha talabat mink shyyana , fa'ajb bisidq qadr al'iimkan." (If she asks you something, answer as truthfully as you can.) Bruce ordered.
"Madha law sa'alt ean nudubina?" (What if she asks about our scars?) Tim asked. "Altazam biqistina." (Stick to our story.) Dick told him. "Nadkhul fi muearika. Sawf tasadaq dhalik." (We get in fights. She'll believe that.)
"Lays min 'ajalak 'ant wataymi ln tafeal dhalik." (Not for you and Timmy she won't.) Jason muttered. "'Antuma bihajat 'iilaa aistikhdam sihr waladak altayib wa'an takuna 'awlad al'ab." (You two need to use your good boy charm and be the Daddy's boys you are.) Dick and Tim glared at him.
"Faqat aistakhdam eaqaluk. Kulakum. Sanakun bikhayrin." (Just use your heads. All of you. We're going to be ok.) Bruce reassured them just as Ms. Hatcher came in and said she was ready to talk to Dick. His family gave him supportive looks as he left.
III
"I know you may not remember me Richard, but I helped you when your parents died." Ms. Hatcher said with an artificial cheeriness. Dick nodded. He remembered her.
He remembered how she'd dragged him away from his parents' lifeless bodies despite the circus members' protests. How she'd snapped at him to shut up and stop crying. How she'd almost literally thrown him into a cell at the juvenile detention center with three big scary older boys who ruffed him up. Oh, he remembered her just fine.
"Now, according to your report cards, you've been doing quite well in school." Ms. Hatcher smiled from behind a folder. "I try." Dick replied. "You seem to do more than try Richard. You're a straight-A student." The social worker pointed out.
"Bruce holds me, all of us, to a high standard." Dick told her shortly. "I'm sure he does." Ms. Hatcher mussed. "I see you're not in any after-school clubs though. Why is that Richard?" Dick shrugged. "Not interested, I guess."
"Really?" She asked, raising a brow. "With all the clubs and sports at your school, there's nothing that interests you, Richard?" Dick tried not to squirm in his chair. She was saying his name way too much. "If you're not in any clubs, how do you make friends?" Ms. Hatcher continued.
"I have friends, just not at school." Dick answered. "They live in other cities, and we get together and hang out sometimes." Ms. Hatcher wrote something down. "And how did you meet these friends?" She asked without looking up. "Bruce works with their Dads sometimes." Dick shrugged. Ms. Hatcher still didn't look up.
"So your father has to approve your friends?" She said to no one imparticular. "He doesn't have to." Dick informed her, his leg beginning to bounce with uncomfortable energy. "He knows my friends because he wants to protect me from bad influences."
"Alright then." Ms. Hatcher smiled, finally looking up from her notes. "I just have one more question for you, Richard."
"Go for it." Dick said, giving her his most charming smile. "Do you feel safe living here?" She asked, her pen already poised to jot down his response.
Dick thought of all the times on patrol when Batman had taken a hit while shoving him to safety. All the times he'd had a tough day at school only to come home and have Bruce make him feel better. All the times he'd had a bad dream or even just wanted to not be alone and had been able to crawl into bed with his Daddy.
"Absolutely." He grinned, and a real grin at that.
III
Jason tried not to slouch as Ms. Hatcher read through his file. "I know my grades aren't great." He huffed. "This isn't a parent-teacher conference Jason. We're not here to talk about your grades." Ms. Hatcher smiled. "I would, however, like to talk about all those bruises you have."
"I keep telling you people I got in a fight." Jason told her, trying not to let his irritation slip into his tone. "You seem to get into a lot of fights Jason. Why is that?" Ms. Hatcher asked, clicking her pen. Jason shifted so his elbows rested on his knees. "I grew up on the street. Old habits die hard."
"Do you ever fight with your father?" She pressed. "We argue." Jason answered. "Do these arguments ever… escalate?" Ms. Hatcher asked, leaning forward as if she was expecting juicy gossip.
"Listen," Jason said, sitting back up. "I took enough beatings from thugs in Crime Ally and my bio parents. I wouldn't stick around if Bruce was beating me. Bruce adopting me was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. He's firm but fair, and he's never laid a hand on me even when I deserve to get some sense knocked into me. It may not be what you want to hear, but it's the truth."
Ms. Hatcher's inappropriate interest dissipated, and she told Jason he could go.
III
Tim forced himself to let go of Bruce's hand, march into his office, and sit in front of Ms. Hatcher with confidence. He was not going to let this woman get under his skin.
"You seem to be a very good boy Timothy." Ms. Hatcher praised. "Advanced Placement. Excellent grades. School awards. No trouble."
"Yes ma'am." Tim said politely. "Let me ask you though. What would happen if you did get in trouble, Timothy?" Ms. Hatcher questioned.
Tim swallowed hard. He didn't get in trouble often, but he'd seen Bruce yell at Jason and sometimes even Damian and Dick. "Well, it would depend on what I did, but it could range from a lecture to getting grounded for a while." Tim admitted. "Do you ever get a spanking?" Ms. Hatcher asked.
Tim flinched at the word. His Mother and Father used to 'spank' him when he'd broken their rules. If he cried, they'd hit him harder until he stopped. "Timothy? Are you alright?" Ms. Hatcher asked, her concern almost genuine upon seeing how pale the boy had gotten.
Tim snapped out of the unhappy memories and looked Ms. Hatcher right in the eye. "I'm not sure if your file says it, but I didn't talk when Bruce brought me home. I was so scared he would spank me for saying the wrong thing. When I did start to talk, he promised me that he'd protect me, so I didn't have to be scared anymore. He's never broken that promise."
Ms. Hatcher shifted uncomfortably under the boy's stare. "And if he did?" She asked cautiously. Tim all but gave her the Bat-glare. "He would never."
III
Ms. Hatcher was smiling like an idiot when Damian sat down. "So Damian, it says here that you're eight years old." Damian gave her a curt nod.
"My my, what a big boy." She cooed, and Damian made a face when she wasn't looking. "I understand that you lived with your mother until last year. Do you miss living with her?"
Damian remembered how he had been an only child less than a year before. He was his Mother and Grandfather's first priority. Now he had to share his Father's love and attention with the three most irritating older brothers in history. He knew he should miss his mother. But for some reason, he didn't.
"No." He told Ms. Hatcher. "Why not sweetheart?" She asked, surprised by his answer.
"I know you're going to ask if Father hits me, and he doesn't. Mother believed in strict discipline. My scars came from her." He stopped, and Ms. Hatcher looked up from where she'd been staring at the marks she could see.
"I thought that when she beat me, she was showing me that she loved me and wanted me to be better. Father shows his love by giving me hugs and telling me when I've done something wrong, so I learn from my mistakes." Ms. Hatcher was taking notes to keep from staring.
"So you're glad you're with your Father now Damian?" She asked.
"Very glad." He told her with more sincerity than he'd ever had.
III
Damian ran to his Father's hug as all his brothers had after their interviews. "I did my best Father." He whispered into his shoulder. "I know you did." Bruce whispered back. "You boys did your part." He smiled at all his sons before heading off to talk to Ms. Hatcher himself.
"What if it wasn't enough?" Tim asked nervously once Bruce was gone. "She needs an explanation for our bruises."
"She'd have one if she just accepted that we all got a fight." Jason grumbled. "What if we could prove that we did?" Dick proposed, and his brothers could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
"Father, come quickly!" Damian exclaimed as he burst into Bruce's meeting. "Damian, what's wrong?" Bruce tried to ask as his youngest son dragged him from his chair and towards the living room.
They arrived to find Dick and Jason rolling around on the floor punching, kicking, and pulling each other's hair while Tim was doing his best to separate them without getting hit himself. "That's quite enough!" Bruce snapped as he wrenched them apart.
He shoved Dick away a bit so Damian and Tim could grab his arms before he charged at a still fuming Jason. "You got lucky, ya little circus freak!" Jason spat, and Bruce tightened his hold on the boy's arm. "You wanna say that when Daddy's not here to protect you street rat?" Dick threatened.
"Stop that! Both of you!" Bruce yelled. "Get up to your rooms this instant and stay there till you cool off!" The boys did as they were told, and Bruce motioned for Tim and Damian to leave as well.
"Does this happen often?" Ms. Hatcher asked, her eyes still wide from watching the scene that had just played out. "From time to time." Bruce sighed. "Four very different personalities. They're bound to bump heads sometimes."
"You handled that rather well." Ms. Hatcher complimented with sincerity. "And at the very least, this confirms Jason's story about getting in a fight that the school didn't know about."
"They can be aggressive when provoked." Bruce admitted. "Well, if this little incident was any indication, I'm sure you'll be able to handle them." Ms. Hatcher smiled.
III
Once Ms. Hatcher had packed her things and Bruce saw her off, he headed upstairs to have a talk with his sons. "My room, now!" He ordered as he rapped on Jason's bedroom door. He repeated this for the other boys and went to the master bedroom to wait.
Once they were all there, lined up like soldiers awaiting their marching orders, Bruce began to pace in front of them.
"You realized you all could have made a bad situation even worse. You were foolhardy and reckless and put yourselves and this family in danger when I assured you that I would handle it."
"We had to come up with an explanation for our bruises." Tim dared to whisper. "We didn't want you to get in trouble."
"Yeah Bruce." Jason chimed in, although with less remorse. "You protect us from all sorts of stuff. For once we wanted to protect you."
"That was for me to worry about." Bruce said, his voice softening for just a second. "None of you will ever pull a stunt like that again. Are we clear?" The boys all mumbled 'Yes sir' with varying degrees of sincerity.
"With that said, come here." Bruce told them, all the anger erased from his face as he pulled his boys close. "My babies." He mumbled softly, ignoring their light protests. "I'm glad you're here to protect me."
