A/N: So I just got the crap scared outta me when I sees dis freakin' huge spider come crawlin' out from under my laptop an' across my bed at me. But irrational fears aside, here's da next chapter! (Please excuse da Brooklyn. I started on da next chapter, an' ya know how writin' in Race's POV gets me goin'...) Anyhows, I know I said that the action and interesting stuff was gonna start. But that was before I knew that the boys wanted to apologize to Bruce first. I hate filler chapters. This was definitely not one of my favorites. I have a feeling, though, that the next one will be. Many, many thanks to Eavis for reviewing, and to methegirl for FINALLY reading it. :) Paige, I hope you're happy with my "casting", seeing as how you kinda mentioned liking Dick Grayson. By the way, guys, if I haven't made it blatantly apparent who's who here, I'm sorry. I intended to, so simply for clarity's sake, here it is all spelled out for ya:
Racetrack Higgins - Timothy Drake
Kid Blink - Jason Todd
Spot Conlon - Richard Grayson
Oh, and Puppet (aka Athena), please feel free to spam me with reviews! I really do like it, I promise! Okay, enough rambling, hope you guys enjoy! And hopefully the next chapter won't take so long coming...

P.S. The formatting is doing something real funny, so I'm sorry if it don't match. I'll try to fix it later...

Chapter 4: Fingers Crossed

I still can't believe I got away wit' it. I was scared outta my mind, but I just had ta know. Don't ask me how I knew it'd be dere, cuz I got no clue. I guess my luck was just holdin' out a little more'n usual. But dere it was, at da bottom of da shaft. A big, open cave full'a da same equipment an' stuff we'd seen at R&D. Da car-thing weren't dere, but neither was da Cowboy. I guess he was out for da night.

Da lift had landed on a cave floor, an' all around me was all kinds'a bats. I remember Cowboy mentionin' he had some kinda problem wit' bats. Ironic, ain't it? I remember da one time I saw him really, seriously freaked out, we was walkin' back to da lodgin' house pretty late one night, an' dis bat come flyin' down an' smacked him in da head. It was kinda funny watchin' him start wavin' his arms around like it was gonna bite him or somethin'. He soaked me good for laughin', told me dat it had a lot to do wit' his folks dyin' when he was real young, an' I had no right ta laugh. Lookin' back now, I shoulda drawn da connection sooner.

But all da same, da connection'd been made, an' I knew t'ings was gonna be real different now. I didn't say nothin' ta Spot or Blink til da next mornin'. T'ink I was still in shock or somethin'. But when I did tell 'em, dey flipped. I knew dey would.

Den I reminded 'em what Al had said da night before, 'bout helpin' Cowboy adjust. An' about Rachel. An' da t'ree of us, we decided ta have us a little talk wit' him. Me personally, I still had no idea how ta cope wit' alla dis. Part'a me wanted ta keep feelin' betrayed…

Bruce Wayne sat in his favorite sitting room, in a brown leather easy chair, and watched the sunlight play off the crystal chandelier onto the floor. The lazy afternoon sun streamed in from the enormous bay windows, trickling over the crystals and spilling over the expensive Indian rug in a splash of brilliant colors. Absently, he sipped at his tea and watched the miniature rainbows dance across the floor. Something had changed. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but the atmosphere in the manor had altered somehow.

Maybe it was the tensions from the day before. He'd been meaning to talk to the boys since they got home, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to face them. He felt guilty about all of this, for some reason. And he was embarrassed to admit that maybe it had been a mistake to bring them here in the first place. But what was he to do now? Throw them on the streets? He shook the thought out of his head immediately. There was no way his boys were going to end up back on the streets. Not if he had anything to do with it.

But something had to be done about them. Mischief he could handle, and had been handling for years. But when it was directed at him as a means of retaliation, that was a little harder to swallow. Okay, maybe he had overreacted just a little bit after the R&D incident. But honestly, could anyone really blame him? These were his boys.

A soft knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he said gently. The door opened slowly to reveal the three boys standing awkwardly in the doorway.

There was some shuffling and debate as to who would enter first before Racetrack was shoved rather unceremoniously into the room, followed closely by the other two. "Heya, C-- uh, Bruce," Race stuttered. There was an awkward pause as he glanced back to the other two for support. Receiving very little, he went on anyway. "Look, we just wanted to apologize fer yesterday. It ain't right, treatin' ya dat way. I mean, afta you's took us in an' all."

"Especially after Rachel," Blink offered.

Bruce's eyes snapped up to meet his suddenly, causing the boys to step back. "Who told you about Rachel?"

"Al did," Spot said quickly. "He wanted ta show us we ain't got no right ta be upset wit' you for lyin' to us."

"Yeah," Blink agreed. "Even if ya do kinda keep some really big secrets."

Race wanted so badly to smack Blink when he saw Bruce's eyes narrow, but he knew it wouldn't help matters any. "And what do you mean by that?" Bruce asked coldly.

Suddenly, Blink and Spot fell completely silent, glancing at Race to fish them out. Great, he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. Why's I gotta do everythin'? "Well," he began, his voice shaking. "We know you's… I mean… I… And the…"

Spot tapped the stuttering Italian rather painfully on the shoulder and finished for him. "We know you's da bat everyone's been talkin' about."

A brief flash of panic crossed Bruce's face, but the boys caught it. "How do you figure?"

"Well," Spot went on, tapping Race again. "Ol' Lucky Streak here himself foun' da cave last night. An' we saw da car in da papes, too. We just kinda drew da line from dere."

"Ya know we ain't stupid, Jack," Blink said quietly. "So don't be treatin' us like we are."

For once, Bruce said nothing about his name. Instead, he sat silent for a moment, regarding the faces of the three boys. "Yeah, I do," he said at last. "But I didn't want you to get mixed up in this."

"We ain't lookin' ta get mixed up in nuttin'," Spot said quickly. An odd look crossed Blink's face, but nobody seemed to notice. "We's just lookin' fer da truth."

"An' not da improved version," Race added with a snort.

Bruce gave a resigned sigh. "All right. What do you want to know?"

A triumphant grin spread slowly on Spot's face. "Well, first of all, it says in da papes dat you's involved in da murder a five people. An' two of 'em bulls, ta boot. What's your side'a da story?"

"Harvey Dent killed them."

"The DA?" Blink stared incredulously with his one good eye. Bruce nodded. "I thought he cleaned up the mob…"

"He did. But then the Joker…" He drew a stuttering breath before continuing, keeping his eyes trained on the glittering rainbows on the rug. "Rachel was Dent's girl. To a point. The Joker knew she was also very close to… to me. And he… He gave us a choice – me and Gordon – made us decide which one we were going to save. We… We chose wrong. We tried to save them both. We got Harvey out, just barely, but Rachel… Rachel didn't make it. After that, something in Harvey snapped. He started killing off the people responsible, the ones who were involved in the Joker's twisted plot."

"Did you stop him?" Blink asked.

"Only after the damage had already been done to his reputation. And there was no way I was going to let everything he'd accomplished go to waste."

Realization dawned on Spot. "So ya took da rap for da murders. Ya had Gordon blame you instead'a him."

Bruce nodded again, glancing up at them with grief-stricken eyes. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose any of you the same way."

Keeping his gaze firmly on his feet, Race shuffled forward slightly. "Hey, Bruce, um… Look, I know I ain't been da best sport 'bout all dis, an' I'm sorry. An' I just want ya ta know dat I's gonna try ta do better. Ya know, adjustin' an' all."

A small smile crept momentarily across Bruce's face before he became dead serious again. "I don't want any of you getting involved in any of this, you hear? I mean it."

"Sure t'ing, Bruce," Spot assured him. Race nodded his agreement.

"Promise!" A lopsided grin tugged at the corners of the blonde boy's mouth. Nobody seemed to notice his hand tucked neatly behind his back.

Fingers crossed.

A/N: Okay, so Race is kinda turning into a real whiny b****. I think maybe he's mad at me for not writing his other stories. Guess I'd better get on that... BTW, for anyone who didn't know, I just put up summaries for a few really interesting upcoming stories at the bottom of my profile... *hinthint* Please review!! It keeps me going when I get "Skittery"...