Part Two
The next couple of weeks went smoothly, Richard ("Please just call me Dick.") continued to make such steady progress in his school work that Jeff wondered why he was even needed, obviously the kid was self-motivated and could handle everything on his own without problem. Every day he'd show up at the main gate, be buzzed in and find the boy dressed and ready to work, his previous assignments finished, checked and in shape to be turned in for grading and usually ahead in the reading for whatever they'd planned to do that particular day.
Privately, Jeff envied the kid's ability to concentrate, his intelligence and most of all, his extreme motivation. Somehow, despite living with that moron, Bruce Wayne, the kid was turning out as well as any parent could hope. Looking over a perfect math assignment, he wondered aloud why he was even there.
"The school insisted when they heard that I might be out for a couple of months. Whatever." He looked across the lunch table, a half smile on his face. "Besides, you need the money, don't you? That's what you told me the first day you came here, anyway."
Jeff was taken aback, this was the first time the kid had said or done anything that verged on snotty or rude and he wondered where it was coming from. 'Bad day? "'You think I'm a pity hire?"
"No, the school pretty much insisted but we both know I can do this on my own just fine.
Bruce just didn't feel like bucking the system." He gave a half glance towards the feminine squeals coming from the patio. "He's busy."
"...Oh." He took a sip from his iced tea. Wayne had made a few appearances while he'd been there to help Dick but so far he'd come across as semi-moronic, horny and superficial. How the boy had ended up the yin to his guardian's yang was anyone's guess. "How are you feeling now, 'the injuries healing?" They never talked about anything even vaguely personal and Jeff was always aware that he was the hired help. Not that anyone said anything (aside from Dick's comment just now), it was just sort of there, hanging in the air. There was the inner circle of 'the family' and there was everyone else.
"I'm getting better, but it's taking longer than anyone thought it would."
"'You're bored stuck hanging around,I guess, right?"
Dick nodded but didn't elaborate. There was no way to tell the tutor that he missed flying, hanging with the Titans and being Robin. Soooooo no way he was going there.
"'Your friends come over?"
"They're busy." ...Fighting crime, cleaning up drug dealers, patrolling—the usual...
"Are you still in much pain?"
Dick shook his head, lying without words. He felt it every time he moved, stood up, tried to find a comfortable position in bed. When he tried to do the PT Leslie had suggested he'd popped stitches and set himself back at least two weeks. All right, maybe he'd pushed too hard, but crap, he was a professional athlete, right? He was used to pushing and working through pain; it was what he did.
Jeff kept his thoughts to himself when the boy's face had a sheen of sweat on it from pain or when he was simply too exhausted to work any longer. He knew there was a doctor making house calls and tending Dick but he simply didn't seem to be healing as quickly as a healthy young man should be and something didn't seem right about the kid. He was hiding something and Wayne wasn't any help, too busy getting laid to give the youngster any real notice. The only other person who might be in a position to say or do anything, that butler was too stiff to care about anything beyond his prescribe duties; cooking, cleaning and whatever else it was that butlers did.
Under the veneer of money and manners, it was the coldest damn house he'd ever been in.
* * *
A month into the tutoring arrangement Jeff was slightly surprised to be led to the huge conservatory instead of Dick's bedroom suite for the day's work. He found Dick seated in a cushioned patio chair by a glass table, surrounded by fully grown trees and beside a koi pond the size of a two car garage, all under glass and wrought iron. The room was at least fifty by fifty feet and yet another example of how the other half lived.
"Nice."
"Yeah, I like it in here."
"You look tired, are you sure that you're up to this today?" Dick hesitated. "You're caught up in every subject, you could afford to take a day off if you want."
"Thanks, but I'd rather get ahead if we can."
Jeff gave him a slightly too long appraising look. "If that's what you want." That afternoon he left an hour early, without complaint from his pupil.
* * *
The next week, early Monday morning Jeff went up to Dick's room, surprised to see the doctor there, changing the boy's dressings. Dick was sitting on the edge of the bed, jeans on and shirt off and the sight of the boy's naked chest caused him to force himself not to stare.
Jesus.
A car accident?
A car accident more than a month before had cause that? Bruising still discolored the kid's chest and back with half healed surgical looking scars, new stitches plainly showing against the pale skin where Dick had apparently torn incisions.
Jesus.
This wasn't from any damn car accident, the news reports and photos of the ruined car notwithstanding. Something or someone had beaten the hell out of the kid—maybe it was an accident, maybe it as on purpose, but this wasn't caused by rolling a car. Jeff had grown up in a tough neighborhood and he knew a beating when he saw one, and this looked like it had been administered by more than just fists.
"I'll be finished in a minute, would you mind waiting outside?"
"Sorry—sure, I'll just be..." The door closed with Jeff on the outside.
Car accident my ass.
Twenty minutes later he and Dick were going through some calc problems. "'You okay?"
The boy didn't bother to look up. "'Fine."
"Your injuries, they look—I don't mean to pry..."
"Then don't."
On the way out Jeff slowed his car by the ruined BMW, still sitting near the main door as a reminder to Dick to be careful. He found himself shaking his head; it didn't make sense.
* * *
Laying in bed that night he thought about what he'd seen, thought about what he should do about it. Someone or something had beaten the crap out of the kid and it was being covered up, both figuratively and literally and apparently with Dick's cooperation.
Okay, so why?
Why would the boy keep his mouth shut? Why would Wayne let it happen—and did Wayne even know the extent of the injuries? That doctor would have to report any suspicions, it was the law and would risk losing her license if she didn't, assuming she suspected anything, right?
And if he suspected and didn't say or do anything to protect the kid—who was a minor—then he was culpable and could be accused of allowing child abuse to continue or whatever that charge was called and he knew it would be a frigging mess.
Well, shit.
And let's not forget that he was dealing with Bruce Wayne here, Mr. One of the Richest Men in the World, Mr. Has an Entire Legal Department, Mr. Don't Screw With Me.
But maybe Wayne didn't know, right?Maybe he really was as vapid as he seemed and maybe he just hadn't noticed.
Uh-huh, yeah, right.
Double shit.
Sighing and giving up on sleep, Jeff knew he had to do what he had to do.
The next morning he was led to the conservatory again, Dick was sitting at the glass table with his books spread out and his laptop open for business and typing away. "Hi."
"Good morning, you working on the essay?"
"'Just finishing, as soon as I run it through spel-chek you want to take a look at it?"
"Sure."
Dick glanced over. "What?"
"Huh?"
A small smile, "Don't let Alfred hear you say that."
Oh. "Sorry, 'Excuse me?'"
"You have something on your mind, what is it?"
No one ever said the boy was dumb. "Okay, this may cost me this job but...those injuries, they're not from a car accident, are they?"
Dick paused, looked up from the computer screen and regarded Jeff for a long moment. "Of course they are. Look, I have to get this done, could we get to work?"
Subject closed.
But something was just off here, something didn't jive and Jeff would bet the ranch that Wayne himself had something to do with whatever the hell was really going on there.
TBC