A/N: Thanks for commenting, JessicaRae95 and She'sBatman! :) Sorry for the long wait, life happens.
The next morning – Gotham City DCS:
Batman strode into Victoria Valentia's office without sparing a glance at anyone else. He was there for one reason only – to convince the woman to hand Dick Grayson over to Bruce Wayne. It was past the two day mark he had threatened Sanderson with, but he was going to start with Victoria before hunting down Jeff. That man was going to receive as pleasant a visit as Ron had last night.
Victoria was on the phone, but she immediately said goodbye and hung up when the Caped Crusader marched into her office and closed the door. She stared at him, both shock and awe in her eyes.
"Um, Batman, hi, um…"
The woman paused and cleared her throat.
"How can I help you, Batman?" she asked professionally.
"You can start by taking out a form I know you have in your desk, writing the name Richard Grayson on the top, adding the name Bruce Wayne in the necessary area, and signing your name at the bottom."
"I don't know…"
"Don't play games with me!" Batman demanded sharply. "Open your drawer and get out the paper that will get Richard Grayson out of the detention center!"
"I'm sorry, who is Richard Grayson?"
"I know Sanderson called you. Do you want to see the less-patient side of me, or are you going to get out that form?"
"Oh, are you talking about Jeff's circus kid?"
She sounded genuinely surprised, as if she had completely forgotten about him.
"Yes," Batman ground out. "Richard. Grayson."
"I did talk to Jeff, and he gave me some valuable advice about circus people. Why would you want a criminally-minded, nobody kid to be released from where he should be?"
"Crimi…"
Batman paused, attempting to silence the rage that was about to burst out of him.
"He is an innocent child, a nine-year-old boy who just lost his entire world," the man growled through clenched teeth. "He should not be in the detention center. Get. Him. Out."
When the woman hesitated, Batman slammed his hands on Victoria's desk and thundered, "NOW!"
"I'm…are you sure?" she asked timidly, her voice shaking slightly. "Jeff said he's just going to become a criminal, don't you want him off the streets?"
"He won't be on the streets, because you are going to place him with Bruce Wayne."
Victoria had very little knowledge of Bruce Wayne. She knew he was very rich, and a very eligible bachelor, and that he hosted galas almost every month. So why would he want a kid?
"I doubt Mr. Wayne will agree to that. He's a very powerful and busy man, he doesn't have time for a circus kid who will probably just steal everything he can get his hands on."
"What do you know about Dick?" Batman retorted. "Have you even seen him yet? You're his case manager, aren't you supposed to visit him and check on his welfare?"
"He's Jeff's kid, I'm just holding the file until he comes back. I don't need to go see him, because Jeff put him there for a reason, and I trust Jeff."
"You are a ridiculous person," Batman snapped. "You've made a judgement based on an opinion, without even checking things out for yourself. I can make it very difficult for you to keep your job."
"I doubt you have that kind of clout," Victoria stated, the words dripping with disbelief. "You're like a police officer, more like an illegal police officer."
She raised her eyebrows and stared straight into his eyes, daring him to refute her words.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Batman growled. "I am a duly deputized agent of the law, and I have connections that can make your exit possible. Either release Dick Grayson, or go find a job somewhere else. You won't be needed in Gotham City anymore. Get out the form."
"Well, first I have to check with Mr. Wayne," she replied, her tone haughty. "If he doesn't want the kid, he'll have to stay where he's at. Mr. Wayne is probably not home, it's only ten o'clock. I'll call him this afternoon."
"You will call him NOW," Batman commanded.
"You may have connections, but you can't tell me how to do my job," the woman replied. "I have an appointment with a foster family, to check on the welfare of one of my kids, in half an hour. Dick Grayson can wait."
Batman snatched her phone, picked up the receiver and dialed a familiar number.
"Gotham City Department of Child Services, this is Pete."
"Pete, this is Batman. I have a situation I need you to resolve. Get yourself to Victoria's office, I'll meet you there."
He slammed the phone down, and Victoria's eyes widened in surprise. She had no idea why Batman would have the phone number of the office of the director of DCS memorized, and it suddenly made her very nervous.
"If you want to keep your job, you should get out the form," the Caped Crusader advised angrily. "Pete and I have a very good relationship."
Two minutes later, Pete walked into the office. He glanced from the face of Batman to that of Victoria and back again.
"What do you need, Batman?" he asked. "I assumed this was an ordinary checkup but from the looks on your faces I think I've misjudged the situation."
"He wants me to put a criminal back on the streets!" Victoria exclaimed quickly.
Scowling, Batman stated, "Dick Grayson is not a criminal, and he hasn't even been on the streets yet. He's been on the circus grounds and in the detention center. Gotham City has given him a very warm welcome," the Caped Crusader finished sarcastically.
"I'm confused, will one of you please start from the beginning?" Pete asked.
Victoria opened her mouth to reply, but the dark glare Batman sent her caused her to immediately close her mouth.
"Richard John Grayson, age nine, parents died at the circus a little over a week ago."
"Performers," Victoria whispered, thinly-veiled disgust filling the word.
Pete glanced at her quizzically before turning his attention back to Batman.
"His case was given to Jeff Sanderson, who immediately put Dick in the detention center. The boy has been beaten, starved, and generally ignored. There are only two people in that place who care about what happens to him."
"How do you know all of this?" Pete asked, astonishment in his voice.
"I happen to know that Bruce Wayne has visited the boy several times."
"Why?"
"The boy's parents died, Wayne gave them a proper funeral instead of allowing them to be buried in the pauper's graveyard. Dick wasn't in attendance. Bruce wanted to know why, so he found out where Sanderson had put Dick and went to check on him."
"The detention center has a nurse…"
"A nurse with very few resources and even less help," Batman snapped.
"I suppose I should talk to Bruce about this, find out exactly what he saw and what he knows. I'll have to contact the warden first, talk to some guards, the nurse obviously…"
"Victoria," Batman sent a scathing glance at her while interrupting Pete's new to-do list, "is very reluctant to do anything about this situation. She hasn't even been to see him."
Pete let his gaze land on Victoria, whose cheeks were slightly flushed.
"Did Jeff pass him off to you?"
"Family emergency," she muttered, "and I just haven't had time to see another kid. I have my own cases, and Jeff knows what he's doing. The boy is in the detention center because Jeff felt he should be there."
"Excuses," Batman growled. "You've had several days to go see Dick. I doubt every hour of those days has been full."
"What do you want from me, Batman?" Pete asked.
"Dick Grayson needs to be released from that hole before he is beaten to death."
"Well, I'll have to check our orphanages and families, see who has room…"
"We don't have room for a thief," Victoria mumbled.
"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM!" Batman exploded. "YOU HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN HIM!"
"Okay, calm down, we can figure this out."
Batman took a deep breath, but fury filled his voice when he began speaking again.
"Release him to Bruce Wayne."
"Bruce Wayne has not been vetted, Batman!" Pete exclaimed. "I can't just give a kid to someone who hasn't been vetted!"
"But you can put a kid in the detention center for no reason at all," the hero retorted.
"Here's what I can do. I'll go see the boy myself, then I'll talk to Bruce. Don't be surprised, though, if Wayne doesn't want the kid. He's a very busy man, both professionally and socially."
"I tried to tell him that," Victoria stated snidely.
"If Bruce does agree," Pete continued, quieting his employee with a sharp look, "then I'll start the paperwork. There is a protocol that has to be followed, Batman. Like I said, I can't just give a kid away when the prospective foster family hasn't been thoroughly checked out. Paperwork, house visits, etc."
"Pete, Dick Grayson won't last another day in that place. Do you really want his death on your head?"
Leaving those dark words hanging in the air, Batman whirled around and strode out of Victoria's office.
The detention center:
Dick was awake, but Tank was concerned. The boy hadn't said a word since he had been attacked by Sam in the visitor room. He had woken up shortly after that and Tank had put the nine-year-old through the gauntlet of another complete check-up. Dick had been completely silent the entire time. His sleep had been restless, so his eyes were tired and bloodshot. But Tank could practically see thoughts swirling around in those expressive eyes.
Dick knew why Sam was mad at him: he had told people that they played games. What he didn't understand was why Sam had chosen that particular moment to take a turn without giving any warning. The nine-year-old had never played a game without being told that his opponent was taking a turn first. And Sam never had anyone play when there were adults around. So, why this time?
The angry face of Bruce Wayne floated through his mind. But the man's face hadn't been angry until Sam had entered the room. He had seemed more…concerned? That was the only word Dick could think of to describe the man's expression, but he had no idea why a rich guy would be concerned about a nobody orphan. Therefore, concern was either the wrong word, or Mr. Wayne was concerned about Tank. But Tank could take care of himself, so Mr. Wayne didn't need to worry about him.
"I will get you out of here."
The short sentence had sounded almost like a promise. It hadn't penetrated his severely concussed mind in the moment, but that sentence had cemented itself in Dick's brain. He couldn't remember anything else about that conversation. But he had been evaluating that sentence for the past hour, trying to decipher the meaning without having to ask for help.
Because asking for help was the last thing Dick was going to do. Everyone who had said they were 'helping' him had done something that had hurt him, so there was no point in asking – or expecting – help. Sam, Tank, the guard, even Mr. Wayne. The nine-year-old couldn't exactly remember what Mr. Wayne had done that had hurt Dick, but the man was probably just like everyone else.
There were only two people who had never hurt him, and they were both dead. And it was his fault, according to Sam. But Dick didn't know whether or not to believe Sam anymore. He remembered thinking – knowing – that Sam was always right, but Sam had just played the game in front of adults, which Sam had said they should never do.
"Nobody is ever always right."
Tank had said that, but Dick hadn't believed him at the time. Now, however, he was leaning toward changing his mind. Everybody makes mistakes, his mom had often told him that. He trusted his parents more than he trusted anybody he had met in this place, so now it was obvious to him that Sam had been wrong at some point.
There were two things that Dick really hoped Sam had been wrong about: his parents' death, and Chuck's death. The nine-year-old had what felt like a lead ball of guilt sitting on his heart, and yesterday he had actually wished that it would crush the already-broken organ. Then at least he wouldn't have to be lying here, giving himself a headache while trying to think. It had been so much easier when Sam had thought of everything for him.
"You did not kill Chuck. Or your parents."
"Gotham City doesn't make mistakes."
"Gotham City does make mistakes, and this is one of them. This is not where you are supposed to be, you don't deserve to be here, you've done nothing wrong."
Everything was so confusing now. Yesterday, everything had been clear. Sam was right, no matter what. But Tank and Mr. Wayne were constantly disagreeing with Sam, which meant they were wrong. But adults were smarter than kids – everyone Dick had ever met knew that – so they couldn't be wrong all the time. Which meant that sometimes Sam was wrong. But that didn't seem right, because Sam knew everything about everything. Except Mr. Wayne was older, so he had more experience with things like knowing right from wrong.
Dick squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to turn off his brain. The confusion was exacerbating the headache that had accompanied the thinking, so he just needed to stop thinking.
"Because if you're hurt, I want to try to help you fix it."
Why? That was a question that had constantly been pricking his brain ever since the first time he had seen the rich guy with the concerned face. Why would a guy like that want to help a nobody kid like Dick Grayson?
People didn't help people just to help them, there was always something wanted in return. Dick had learned that in the circus, when one of the clowns had helped him out of a tangled net and then stated that Dick 'owed him one'. If someone did something nice, you owed them. That was a fact. Therefore, if Mr. Wayne was being nice and helping Dick fix whatever it was that needed fixing, the nine-year-old was going to owe him something.
What needed fixing, though? And how could Mr. Wayne help when he didn't even live in the same place as Dick? And, for the hundredth time, why would he want to?