Author's Note: I was driving to class today, thinking about the homework I had just completed. It was concerning drug testing in the work-place, and we had to write our opinion on it. I've always been against it, since before I can remember, but for the sake of difference, I decided to write for it. It opened up a strange thought – our personal life is our own, but is that really true? It was just interesting to think about, and then I thought about this fiction. How none of our business can suddenly become all of our concern when we get pulled into a bad situation caused from someone's personal affairs. It's just weird to think about. And it gave me a title.

"Maybe it's not the early to learn how to love and forget how to hate. Mental wounds not healing, driving me insane. It's crazy, but what do I care? We're living with something that's just not fair."

Ozzy Osbourne Crazy Train

Maybe Today

By: The BatThing

Chapter Three: None of Your Concern

"Haden said that his friend probably died or something."

Bruce had been the one to pick Dick up that afternoon. He had taken a day of for no reason at all, really. Yes, he had been tried, and yes – he didn't feel like going to work, but that wasn't anything new. He never felt like going to work. If it weren't for the knowledge that his parents had entrusted the business to him, he probably wouldn't go at all. Well, that and Alfred's continuation of unpleasant reminders. So, once during the work week, Bruce would take a day off. And today was his day.

Dick was quiet for a few moments, staring out the window, watching the rain fall. After a bit he turned to Bruce. "Do you know if that's true?"

"No."

"Haden said it's not just any friend, he said it's his … boyfriend." Dick waited for a reaction, there wasn't much of one.

"What, exactly, are Haden's sources? Gossip is gossip, and Mr. Ganthers' personal life isn't your business."

"Well, I know, but if he's sad – that's sort of everyone's concern, isn't it?" Dick shrugged his shoulders. He drew his foot up to rest on the edge of the seat, and placed his chin on his knee. Nothing was really said on that, and Dick didn't really agree with what he had said. He didn't care if his teacher was sad – his teacher was mean, and that bothered him more then the later. Perhaps if Mr. Ganthers were nice, like Mrs. Olsen, maybe then Dick would care a little bit more.

It was hard to feel much of anything for someone like Mr. Ganthers.

"Can I go with you tonight?" Dick looked at his guardian, hoping for a yes, but unsure if he would get one. With Bruce, you could never be sure of anything. He seemed to be in a good mood.

"See what Alfred says."

"What does it matter what he says?" Dick knew he was pouting, but he couldn't stop himself. He really wanted to go with Bruce tonight. "Can't you think for yourself?"

"No."

Dick smiled up at Bruce, slightly amused. "Hey, this isn't the way home."

"We're making a quick stop at the office."

At this revelation, Dick grimaced. The office was never much fun, and it hadn't been for a few months now. Not since he became suddenly shy around strangers, and more unwilling to talk to with Bruce's partners and secretaries. Only a year ago, the boy would have loved to go – he'd follow Bruce around, feeling proud, and talking to people who stopped to talk to him. He'd tell them anything they wanted to know, and then some. But now, it was awkward, stuffy, and no fun at all. "…Ok."

There was a small gap of silence.

"Hey looky at them!" Dick pressed a hand against the clean window, and gave a little jump. "Did you see that?"

"No." Bruce didn't sound like he much cared either.

"Th-those people were waiting for the bus, and the old woman held out her hand for it to stop, but it passed by without a second thought. What jerks!" Dick gave a huff and looked at his guardian, expecting to get an agreement – though a hell yeah from Bruce was far from likely. "People can be so rude! Now they have to wait for the next bus! Now they're going to be late, and who knows what they'll be late for. Man alive."

Once more, Bruce appeared to have sawdust in his mouth, or something equally tasteless. "That's life."

"It's all gonna' come around, hope they don't let it get them down too much." Dick quoted on cue, giving Bruce a small smile.

"Right." The billionaire didn't know why Dick was so god-damn optimistic all the time. It wasn't that he minded, because he didn't. In truth, in honesty, he was pleased that the kid could be so happy about the bad things in life. Though, the phrase was starting to get to him.

Dick was waiting in the hall, seated quietly nearby Bruce's secretary - Sarah. There was little to be done, other than wait, but that didn't derive the boy from having any fun at all. He allowed himself the pleasure of daydreaming, thinking on different things – most of which were unimportant. Sarah offered to go down to a waiting room and find him some Highlights magazines, or maybe some puzzle books. Dick gently, but seriously refused the offer, reminding her he was eleven. He didn't need to play games, he could wait.

She just smiled and apologized.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, Dick decided that he was too bored. So, he dropped to his knees, and began to dig though his backpack – figuring he could at least doodle while he waited for Bruce to be done with the meeting.

It was then that the doors from Bruce's office slammed open with an unpleasant bang, and a man walked out in a huff. He didn't look at all happy, or anywhere near being calm. In fact, Dick couldn't help but freeze at the sight of the man walking towards him.

"You don't put me on probation! My personal life is no concern of anyone's!" He hollered over his shoulder. "I won't even give you the luxury of putting me on probation, because I quit!"

Bruce followed him out the office, looking ticked, but managing to talk rationally. "I can't do anything about that, Mr. McKinley. It's not my decision to make, you'll have to contact one of your -."

"You own the company! Don't tell me you didn't have a part in this!" The man did stop to argue, turning around and looking flushed in his face. "There is no proof of any of the accusations brought against me."

"I told you before, if you would call -."

"Oh no. I know where this is headed, a series of phone calls and appointments that will get me nowhere. I'm not going to play your games anymore, Mr. Wayne. I'd rather spend my time in a worthwhile manner, thank you very much. And let me tell you something..."

Bruce gave Sarah a look, and the woman picked up the phone, dialing a number.

Mr. McKinley didn't seem to notice, far too focused on himself, and much to angry to do anything other than speak his mind. At this point, he couldn't think rationally – not anymore. "If anyone in the company should be put on probation due to their personal lives, it should be you! Gotham's rich bachelor playboy! The man who spends his nights at parties and sleeping with women whose names he can't even remember! That is a fact." He turned around, batting the air angrily at Bruce, and paused in his tracks, seeing Dick. "And this. I get accused of coming to work under the influence, and am sentenced with probation. While you blatantly-."

"Dick, come here." Bruce snapped, knowing perfectly well where this was going. "And Mr. McKinley, it would be best if you left."

"-Blatantly bring in your boytoy."

Dick knew perfectly well what that was. Bruce was ordering him to come in a stern tone, and to go into his office, but the eleven-year-old didn't listen. It was hard to tear his attention away from the man glowering down at him.

Yes, Dick was upset – but in a distressing sort of way. He didn't like it when people called him that. But he wasn't mad. He wasn't going to glare back, or get flustered – no, Dick didn't consider those options. All he could do was just stare up at the man, in wonder of how someone could be so irate … so angry.

He didn't like it at all.

Bruce was now blocking his view of Mr. McKinley, and saying something in a tone that Dick hardly ever heard. It was one the Batman used, and it meant things had gone from bad to dangerous for the person in the wrong. "Get out, McKinley."

And then there were security guards, pulling away the man, dragging him out of the room, and warning him to be quiet. It wasn't a pretty sight to see, somewhat embarrassing considering that a grown man was throwing a tantrum.

"Are you alright?"

Dick wrenched his head up, looking at his guardian with wide blue eyes - fretful that Bruce might be upset that he hadn't done as he had been told. Nodding, he studied his mentor's expression, and saw that he wasn't in any trouble at all. "What was he so mad about?"

"He thinks he's being treated unfairly."

"Why?"

Bruce gave him a steady look, considering telling the boy. He was pissed enough, that was for sure. Swallowing his blind anger, the billionaire shook his head, knowing better than sharing such information with others. It wouldn't be proper edict anyhow, even if McKinley asked for it. "Don't worry about it."

Thinking about that for a few minutes, Dick gave a loud and slightly obnoxious sigh. It was clear he was unhappy as he shook his head at Bruce. "Why is everyone so mad all the time? And why is it, that when they're mean to other people, it's still nobody's business? I say if you're mean, then - then the people who you're mean to should at least know why you're being mean. …That's what I think."

That was something to think on, and Bruce couldn't say he didn't whole-heartedly disagree. He put it past him, and moved his head to the child's backpack. "You want to go home now?"

"Yeah."

Sarah smiled at the two, patting her hair in a self-conscious motion.

"An-and you could tell her that you got another g-girl you have to go see. Then she'd never bother you again." A bit on the hyper side due to a late night, and talking with an energized stutter, young Dick Grayson couldn't help himself. And what was more: Bruce didn't seem bothered at all by it. Even though Alfred had told him that bedtime was half an hour ago, the two hadn't done much to follow orders. The matter of Bruce's date tomorrow had come up, and Dick was doing everything in his power to convince his mentor to get out of it so they could go on patrol again.

The billionaire gave a frown, humored nevertheless. "And then I'd be in trouble with her for the rest of my life. Sounds like a great plan, Dick."

"Alfred made me stay home that one time he thought I was sick, you could tell her that you think y-you're sick, and that Alfred wants you to stay home." Dick gave a little jump on his bed, smiling at the thought, figuring it was perfect logic. "You're good at lying!"

"Just what I want to hear, that you think I'm good at lying."

"Well, you lie about being Batman, don'cha? Same difference."

"Alfred's going to chop of my head when he finds out you're still awake." Bruce admitted, getting to his feet and smiling a bit at the Romanian boy.

"That could be your excuse! Sorry, Mandy, I've got n-no head." He laughed at his own words, shaking his head at the thought. "She wouldn't want to see you ever again. You could be like the headless horseman 'er something. The Headless Batman!"

"Amusing." Bruce didn't sound amused, but a lacking smile spread across his face. "But sadly, you are rewarded zero humor points for lack of good grammar."

A small intermission in the conversation, Dick looking up at the unmasked Dark Knight at this statement, he smiled right back. "What? Just 'cause I said got? Huh? Why does that bother you so much? This kid in my class talks worse. Got, got, got, got! I got two feet! You got to hide from Alfred. Got."

"Good point. You got to go to bed." Bruce made his way towards the bedroom door, tossing a smirk over his shoulder at the crestfallen expression he was receiving from the eleven-year-old. He flipped off the light.

"Aren't you going to say goodnight to me?" Dick demanded, willing to ask tonight. Usually it wouldn't have mattered, but tonight they had bonded – they had had fun.

"Nope."

"Bruce!"

Not a smile, not completely, but a smile in a strange way. "Goodnight, talk to you tomorrow."

Dick kept sitting upright, staring at his mentor's silhouette through the shadows as his eyes adjusted to the darkened room. "Hey, Bruce?"

"…Yes?" He was starting to sound a bit annoyed. The last thing he wanted was Dick to try and sucker him into staying up. The billionaire knew better that to fall for that trick.

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"And?"

"Oh, well … nothing. G'night."

"Night."

"Hi-uup!" Dick let out as he gave the soccer ball a resounding kick, sending it literally soaring through the air. He placed his hands on his hips with a proud smile as it sailed through the sky and right over the edge of the cliff. Dick had more then enough soccer balls, besides – that one was getting past its prime, he could spare it. There was no splash to be heard, but he knew perfectly well that the white and black ball was now floating about in the water. Hey, maybe some poor kid would find it and have a soccer ball to play with.

Good logic.

All the ball had to do was float all the way around, past the rich neighbors. At that thought, Dick felt his heart sink a bit. He didn't like the rich neighbors too much, and now there was the possibility that they might get his soccer ball. He slouched a bit and turned, trotting back across the yard, down the beaten path in the grass. Oh well, if they got it, they wouldn't even want it – would they?

It didn't take but a few seconds for Dick to completely forget about the soccer ball floating helplessly away. He took off in a sprint and performed a one-handed cartwheel, grinning at the thought that he didn't have school till Monday. And there was a chance Bruce could get off his date early, so they could go out on patrol.

He landed with poise, and dashed back towards the house. The rest of his afternoon was spent doing various activities, all of which proved only to bore his interest. When five rolled around, and Bruce's car pulled down the drive, Dick waited patiently to see about patrol.

Bruce's date was at eight, and with any luck, it would be over by eleven or so.

"I told you, I don't know, chum." Bruce answered, strained, as he came through the front door and was bombarded with the inquiry. He didn't like being pestered again and again with the same question. It only annoyed him. He knew Dick wanted to go on patrol, but that didn't make anything change. It all depended on the city, the crime – and the girl. It was bewildering why Dick enjoyed being out there so much.

A bored and vaguely aggravated sigh was the eleven-year-olds reply. He followed Bruce up the stairs, thinking of different ways he could perhaps convince his mentor not to go. Dick knew that he shouldn't pester his guardian too much, but it was hard to hold his tongue. After all, he had done nothing of significance all day, and had been crossing his fingers that Bruce would give the green light for patrol. "Well, I am eleven."

"No."

"You don't know what I was gunna' to say."

A keen and parental look as the man lingered outside of his bedroom. Hand on the door, about ready to enter his room, Bruce knew he needed to elucidate this now. "First. I'm going out with the girl. Second. You're too young to be out there alone. And third, stop asking."

Dick lowered his eyes, not enjoying the tone he was receiving. He wished that just once in his life he could tell his mentor off. Bruce could be stupid at times. After all, Dick had only asked about it a few times – and last night they had been great friends, buddies … partners. Now it was different, now Bruce was the boss and Dick was the kid.

Turning around, the raven-haired gypsy skunked towards his bedroom. He heard Bruce's door open and close, meaning that it was a done deal. Bruce wouldn't be changing his mind now. Oh well. It could be worse.

After all, it will all just come around, tomorrow was another day.

Monday afternoon, waiting in Mr. Ganthers' class per routine, the five boys sat in almost absolute silence. Complete, minus the diminutive fact that Darcy was singing to himself as he twisted his pencil in the air. It was annoying, but thus far nobody had said a word over the matter. "A lil' bidd'a how it's'possed ta' be. A lil' bidd'a life. A-Breathe in, a-breathe out, yeah, sleepin'all night with them winda's down. Up'in the mornin', a-sturrin'round, drink'a pot'a coffee an' I head off ta' town."

"STOP! Just stop. Speak normal or get outta' Gotham, Darcy!" Haden finally breathed - the first to finally get the gull to say something. "You aren't even trying. In fact, you've gotten worse."

"I was with my family all weeken', an' they all talk like that there." Darcy defended, sitting out his lower lip unintentionally. He sulked down in his seat, staring towards the front of the class. "So what if I talk different? What's it matter?"

"I matter's 'cause this isn't 'Alabamy', or wherever the hell you came from. You're going to get shot talking like that here."

Felix and Greg were snickering, partially because it was funny, and partially because they were still a bit bitter with Darcy for their being here.

"In-e-ana."

"You can't even say your own state right. And why the hell do you talk like you're from the south? Indiana is Midwest! It's not southern."

"I don' talk like I'm from the south!"

"Yes you do, you uneducated idiot. Did all the rich kids there talk like you?"

Dick leaned forward on his desk, bouncing his legs as he waited for the teacher to come. "He wasn't rich in Indiana." Oops. He hadn't meant to say that. Sparing a glance at Darcy, he could see that his words didn't bother the boy with the poor accent.

Darcy breathed through his nose, and shrugged casually. He looked about ready to tell his story, but Mr. Ganthers' slammed the door to the classroom open. The teacher entered, looking very disturbed, and very … unusual. His face was flushed, and he appeared to be sweating profusely, as if he had run all the way to the study group from his house.

Glancing at the five, he slammed the door shut, and flipped the lock. Mr. Gathers then stomped to his desk, dropping his briefcase to the floor, and unloading the stack of books from his arms. Not a word was said, but it was clear that the man wasn't happy. It was more than clear.

The fact that the door was lock didn't help anything either. The five boys kept looking towards it, and glancing at each other with uncertainty. Suddenly the argument over Darcy's accent seemed minuscule, minute in comparison. Mr. Gathers was scary on a normal day – this just made him horrifying.

"A … sir?" Felix slowly started, his hazel eyes were wide as they looked anywhere but the man he was addressing. "The door is locked. I don-don't think the doors are supposed to be locked."

Dick couldn't help the look he gave Felix. It was one mixed with relief and disbelief. There was no way Mr. Ganthers was going to be nice in his response, but maybe – just maybe, he'd unlock that door.

The teacher pulled the briefcase in front of him, unzipping it while looking at the small group. "I realize that. It's locked for a reason."

"…Why?" It was Haden talking now, and his smart-alec front having been dropped.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Greg barely managed. His voice was soft, but noticeable. "Are you ok?"

"No." He gave a strange laugh that only frightened the five all the more. Mr. Ganthers' didn't laugh … and even if he did – it shouldn't be like that. The laugh sent off signal bells, a warning that something was very wrong, and that somebody should do something about the situation.

Somebody should unlock that door.

Dick studied the man's trembling body, and watched as the teacher fumbled in the briefcase – apparently stalling. The eleven-year-old didn't know much, but he could see that Mr. Ganthers' didn't want to take his hands out of that case just yet. It was as if he were waiting for something.

That something was Haden. The twelve-year-old apparently had enough of the stifled environment and rose to his feet. "I'll just unlock the door."

"No you won't." Mr. Ganthers said in a sickly sweet voice, a strange voice. He pulled his hands out of the briefcase and a black object caught all of their attention.

He had a gun.

Haden froze, everyone froze.

"We're going to finish what we started. I promised Alexander I'd finish what he started. Pass it on and on. The only trouble is … I don't know which of you I like best." His voice was high-pitched, troubled. It was as if their teacher had completely vanished and left them with some monster, some horrific, horrible monster.

To Be Continued …

loopylouise123: Thanks! Yeah, my friends always make fun of the way I talk, so I stole what they said one day and basically used it. Thanks for the reviews on both chapters! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I know I am, lol - I think that's good, haha.

DarkDark: Haha, yeah - it can be. You just gotta' grin and deal I suppose, well, I do at least. Thanks so much.

Johanna: I was worried about his accent, thought it might be really annoying. I'm glad it wasn't too bad. I know a lot of people get annoyed when they read accents, and I don't blame them. Accents can be hard to read ... I could have just put: Darcy had a southern accent. Oh well, make things difficult! Thanks for the review!!

kokomocalifornia: When I can - good point. I actually am up to chapter eight right now, just am slow at posting. It's rather impressive, seeing as I usually take years to get as far as chapter eight. Thanks so much for the review, I'm glad you like it.

Trunksblue: Wow, for a second I forgot you reviewed. I was like: I thought she did, but where is she? Then I found you. Good story, huh? I already sent you a message, but I figure I'll prattle on here too. I'm allowed to do that I think. If not, oh well, I don't think you'll care. And if you do, well ... lol, I dunno. I have class soon, history for three hours straight. I'm going to die. Oh, and thanks for the review. Haha.

Panamint: I won't lie, I did a double take when I saw your review. I was like: Why does that name sound so fimiliar? Why? Why? Why? Then it dawned on me! Broken Glass! You need to update in that, blah. I'll just outright say it. I need to review your last chapter. I actually didn't get a message that said you updated, I just checked a few minutes ago when I saw you had reviewed, and bam. I read it already, and I hope you write more soon! There, I'm done being annoying.