A/N: Like the eternal broken record, I'm stuck on repeat...thank you to all you wonderful peeps for your comments. I cannot tell you how much they make my day. :)
And I hope everyone enjoys their weekend. I started my final year of college this week so I can forget about enjoying my weekends for the next nine months. But maybe I can live vicariously through everyone else! ;)
oOo
The drive to Wayne Enterprises was sheer hell for Bruce. They'd lost. He'd lost Dick. There were no words to describe the agony he was feeling.
Kevin Green had told him this didn't mean he'd lost Dick permanently, that once the boy had recovered his speech he would be able to clear Bruce's name. And in the meantime, Bruce would be able to visit Dick once the boy had given his statement to CPS.
It did nothing to reassure Bruce. As long as the door to Dick's hospital room remained open they would be unable to get their stories straight. And if Dick regained his speech before they could, Bruce would lose him forever. Not to mention that CPS were trying to find the medical records for Haly's circus. And while those medical records were virtually untraceable, one phone call to Jack Haly would shatter Bruce's lies.
Bruce knew it wasn't fair to blame Haly's circus for injuries they weren't responsible for, but what choice did he have? He couldn't tell CPS the truth and anything else would only make him look even more suspicious. He just hoped CPS wouldn't think to contact Jack Haly directly. At the moment, CPS didn't seem to realize that the circus was a close family who knew everything about each other, instead considering it a transient home without any real familial ties. Their prejudice was hindering their own case and it was the first time in his life that Bruce had been grateful for a bigoted opinion.
The billionaire clenched his fists tightly, his heart close to exploding from grief. This wasn't fair! He and Dick risked their lives to keep this city safe and now they were paying for it. It certainly proved the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished. He wondered who was going to break the news to Dick, and his heart ached at the thought of the boy having to deal with this alone. It just wasn't fair.
"Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice came from the front of the car and Bruce started. The butler had been so silent since leaving the courthouse that Bruce had almost forgotten he was there.
"What is it, Alfred?"
"You may want to brace yourself, sir."
There was a tightness to Alfred's voice and his eyes were narrowed as he stared through the windshield of the car. Bruce leaned forward in his seat to see what Alfred was looking at, and then swore through clenched teeth.
Even from four blocks away, the mob outside Wayne Enterprises looked intimidating. Hoards of cameras and reporters were spilling from the sidewalk onto the street, forcing cars into the opposite lane as they tried to navigate past Wayne Enterprises. Bruce thought the throng of reporters outside the courthouse had been bad, but this was a hundred times worse! How the hell were they going to get into the parking garage beneath the building? Thank God they'd brought one of the tinted cars.
They were a block out when someone recognized the car and the crowd surged forwards. Alfred increased his speed to try and get as close as possible to the garage entrance before they were swamped.
A wall of noise descended on them as bodies hit the car from all sides. Bruce couldn't even make out what questions the reporters were yelling through the din. Christ, this was even worse than when he'd taken Dick in! He prayed fervently that this mess was sorted out before Dick had to face these vultures.
The tinted windows hid them from view, but Bruce was still aware of the frantic flashing of cameras. He hoped Alfred could see what he was doing so that no one would get hurt. Bruce wasn't averse to giving the reporters a good fright to teach them a lesson, but the last thing he needed was an assault charge destroying his chances of getting Dick back.
"Alfred, how are you holding up?"
"Just a couple of more feet, sir, and I should be able to turn in. Where on earth is security?"
"Good question," said Bruce grimly, reaching for his phone. He dialled directly to his head of security's cell and within three seconds the man had picked up.
"Mr. Wayne," Graham North greeted him.
"Graham, where's security for the parking garage? It's a complete free-for-all down here! Alfred and I can't get through."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I do have men in the street trying to control the situation and get you through. More are on the way but I need to keep men on the other entrances to the building; the press have been trying to sneak in all morning."
"Of course they have," said Bruce through gritted teeth. "Have any of the staff been subjected to this?"
"A few. One of the receptionists had damage done to her car on the way in."
"Get the details and I'll take care of that damage." Just then his own car rocked slightly and Bruce clutched his phone tighter in anger. "This is insane! Graham, call the police and get some officers down here now! This isn't just a nuisance anymore, it's dangerous. And I won't have my staff being harassed."
"Yes, sir."
Bruce disconnected the call just as two security guards were able to clear some of the crowd back, allowing Alfred to roll the last couple of feet towards the security gates which opened immediately to admit them. Bruce looked out the rear window to see three security guards preventing anyone from crossing through before the gates closed again.
Neither of them spoke as the butler steered the car to the executive parking level. Only when the car pulled into Bruce's space did the billionaire release a frustrated sigh. "This is ridiculous! How long are we going to have to put up with this crap?"
"Not for long I hope. Master Bruce, do you think the security on Master Dick's room will be enough to deter those vultures?"
"It better be," Bruce growled. He didn't want those rabid newsmongers within a hundred yards of his son.
"Perhaps a call to social services to ensure Master Dick's privacy would not go amiss?"
"I'll call Kevin and have him do it. At least that way I can't be accused of trying to buy anyone off." Bruce's tone was bitter, but he couldn't help it. He was hurting from the loss of his son, and still smarting from Dr. Lewis' comment in court because when had he ever done anything to suggest that he bribed people to get what he wanted?
Alfred shook his head. "I find it rather incredible that in a city where hundreds of children are being neglected and abused, CPS are using all of their resources and focusing all of their energies on you. Master Bruce, everyone who knows you knows you wouldn't do this."
"But there are plenty of people out there that don't know me who believe I would do this," Bruce pointed out. "And all those other abuse cases usually slide beneath the media's radar. With a case this high profile, CPS know they could be accused of neglect if they aren't seen to act. That's why they're hitting me with everything they've got."
Alfred sniffed. "That still doesn't make this witch-hunt rational, sir,"
"I know." Bruce sighed. "I'd better get upstairs. I've got a meeting with the board to prepare for. Alfred, I don't want you to leave until the police get here and break up that mob, okay?"
The older man nodded. "I had planned on examining the Bentley for damages before leaving anyhow. What time shall I return for you this evening, sir?"
"I'm not having you face that mob anymore than you have to," Bruce replied grimly. "Once you make it back to the manor I want you to stay there. I'll use the company helicopter to get home." Travelling by helicopter was extreme, but Bruce just didn't have the energy to face this mob and the one currently camped outside Wayne Manor again – three press gauntlets in one day had been more than enough.
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Positive. Contact me when you get home, Alfred." Bruce didn't like the thought of the older man having to face the mob twice more, here and at the manor, but he knew Alfred would never acquiesce to leaving the car and taking the helicopter.
"Of course, Master Bruce."
"Drive safely," Bruce added, climbing out of the car.
"As always, sir."
Bruce strode quickly towards the elevator and stepped in. He needed to speak with Graham North again. If this media circus was going to continue for the next three weeks then they would need extra security. And if the police didn't manage to clear that mob in the street by this afternoon, Bruce would call Commissioner Gordon personally. He might be able to fly over this but his staff couldn't, and he genuinely didn't want them being subjected to such harassment.
The doors pinged open on the top floor where Bruce was greeted by Lucius Fox and his head of security.
"Bruce, are you alright?" asked Lucius at once.
"I'm fine, Lucius," said Bruce, before turning to his head of security. "Graham, did you speak with the police?"
"Yes, sir. They're sending officers now."
"Good. Can you see about getting some extra security for the building until this all dies down? But make sure to vet every candidate carefully. The last thing I want is some reporter getting in undercover."
"I'll get on it right away, Mr. Wayne," Graham responded, nodding to him and Lucius before hurrying away.
"How are you holding up?" asked Lucius once they were alone.
"I've been better," Bruce answered wearily. "How did everyone find out so fast?"
"The judge's ruling was announced before you'd even left the courthouse. It's on every news channel." He paused and shook his head. "Bruce, how could that judge think this is true? It's ludicrous!"
"He didn't completely believe it," said Bruce, starting to walk towards his office. "But until CPS talks to Dick he wouldn't take the chance of ruling in my favour."
"And what about Dick?" Lucius asked tentatively, falling into step beside him. "Do you know how he is?"
"I know his speech has been affected by the head injury, but that's it. CPS hasn't seen fit to share any details with me. The judge did order them to keep me updated on his condition, but I have a feeling that will involve a lot of pulling teeth on my part just to get those updates."
"I'm sorry, Bruce," said Lucius sincerely. "I know this must be hard for you."
Hard was an understatement. Bruce ached to the very bones of his soul. Being away from his son was making him feel like he was being torn asunder. They'd been apart before, but this wasn't the same as when Bruce travelled for business or League missions. This time Dick was in the same city and Bruce was forbidden from seeing him. All the times they'd been separated by whole continents – worlds even– and they'd never felt further apart. It was a nightmare. And the worst of it was Bruce didn't know when or if this nightmare would end.
He was jerked from his musings by someone calling his name and found himself outside his office with Lucius staring at him in concern. Bruce had walked right past his secretary without even acknowledging her. "I'm sorry, Lucius, what did you say?"
"I was just asking if you're up to this? The board haven't arrived yet, we could postpone the meeting."
Bruce shook his head. "I need to keep busy or I'll go insane."
"If you're sure…"
"I am," said Bruce and turned to his secretary. "Maggie, could you hold all calls except Alfred or Kevin Green, please."
"Yes, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looked away from her quickly. Pity was etched in every corner of her face and if there was one thing he hated it was pity; pity made him feel like he might drown in his own misery. Pushing open the door to his office, Bruce entered and held the door for Lucius to follow him in before closing it after him.
"Alright," said Bruce briskly, striding over to his desk. "Give me the rundown on the Hanley contract and the Vladreech Syndicate takeover. And where do we stand on the Comtech negotiation?" Maybe he could lose himself in business for an hour or two.
That idle hope fell flat as soon as he sat behind his desk and his gaze fell on a picture of Dick. There was no forgetting about this for even ten seconds, not when his world was falling apart around him.
Despite his best efforts, Bruce only half heard Lucius' rundown. His eyes kept going to the picture of Dick, the cheerful, happy grin tugging at his heart and making his stomach flip. Bruce didn't know what he would do if he lost Dick permanently. It would be a different loss to that of his parents, and he had a feeling that the vengeance of Batman would do nothing to assuage this one.
Don't think like that! he told himself harshly. You will get him back.
Dick was coming home. There was simply no other option.
oOo
Exhausted from a fresh battery of tests, Dick was wheeled back to his room. However, the tiredness did nothing to sway his good mood.
He'd woken that morning to find that he was no longer slurring or stuttering his words. He still had a very limited vocabulary and couldn't put a coherent sentence together, but Dr. Phillips seemed to think it was a sign that he was on the road to recovery and would likely regain his full speech within the next week or two.
Dick couldn't have been more relieved. It was isolating and frustrating not being able to speak and he'd been terrified that it might be permanent, or that he would need months of speech therapy to regain the ability to speak. Dick was a natural conversationalist who couldn't bear the thought of this silence for months on end.
Another reason for Dick's elevated mood was the discovery that his custody hearing was taking place today. It had been the first thing the news stations announced when he turned on the TV that morning. Dick had full faith that Bruce would fix this; no one in their right mind could believe his guardian was hurting him! This was all just one big misunderstanding that Bruce would get straightened out in court. By the afternoon, Bruce and Alfred would be here with him.
As the orderly helped him into bed, Dick hoped that Alfred would bring some of his delectable cooking because the stuff they were calling food here should come with a hazard warning! Dick's appetite had been poor since he'd regained consciousness – although he attributed some of that to the stress of being parted from Bruce – and all he could do was pick at the crap they were putting in front of him. It didn't help that his good arm still hadn't regained its full strength, and he usually ended up with more food on his gown than in his mouth.
Dick scowled at the gown. He'd had two gown changes in the last twenty-four hours and they still hadn't managed to find him one that wasn't covered in rocket ships. It was humiliating; he wasn't a little kid!
"Well, someone looks very serious," a cheerful voice sounded, and Dick looked up to see Dr. Phillips entering his room just as the orderly exited it.
He grinned at the man before rolling his eyes and tugging at the hospital gown.
"Ah," said the doctor, nodding in understanding. "Sorry, Richard, I know it's a little young for you but I'm afraid the nurses haven't been able to find anything else to fit you. Perhaps we could organize to have some of your clothing delivered from home?"
Dick nodded vigorously. Yes, please!
Dr. Phillips laughed. "Slow down, sport. I know your head feels better but I'd like you to take things very easy until the swelling is gone. So no extravagant head gestures, okay?"
Dick grinned sheepishly and nodded more sedately. The word 'yes' was still eluding him.
"Good boy. Now, I've had a quick look at the CT scan you just had. The swelling in your brain has gone down considerably since yesterday, but there's still a ways to go so I want you to use the call button if anything feels even remotely funny. That means any increase in pain or dizziness, no matter how small. Do your arms and legs still feel weak?"
Dick nodded.
"That's pretty normal given the nature of your head injury and its likely to be a few weeks before your full strength returns. But if you feel the weakness getting worse let someone know. Same goes for any disimprovement in your hearing or vision, okay?"
"Kay," Dick managed, revelling at being able to say the word without floundering.
"Atta boy. Do you have any questions?"
Dick tugged gently at his splints because man, did he want those off.
Dr. Phillips raised an eyebrow. "The splints?"
Dick nodded.
"You'll need to talk with your orthopaedic doctor about that. But from the amount of swelling and stitching you have, I'm guessing it'll be the end of the week before you'll be able to put a cast back on."
Dick slumped against his pillows and sighed in frustration.
"Are the splints uncomfortable, Richard?"
Dick nodded. He was starting to feel like one of those bobble head dolls, so he poked himself in the side to emphasize his point.
"They're digging into you?" Dr. Phillips guessed, and Dick nodded, again. "I'll talk to the nurses on the ward here and see if they have a smaller set of splints. Those were put on you in the ER and they look like they might be for adults – they were probably all they had in the ER."
Dick thought that was dumb. Surely they had more kids with broken bones in the ER than adults? Wouldn't it make sense to have more kid-sized stuff? Like gowns that weren't covered in rocket ships.
A knock interrupted them and they both looked towards the door to find a woman standing there. Dick recognized her as the woman from social services who had been here before and frowned. What was she doing here?
"Hello, Dr. Phillips," she greeted the man. "How's the patient?"
"He's improving, but still not ready to be questioned," the doctor answered.
"I'm not here to question him," she replied, coming towards the bed. "I just want to see how he is. Hello, Richard," she greeted Dick, stopping beside him. "Do you remember me?"
He nodded warily. Why was she here again?
She smiled. "That's good because I don't believe I officially introduced myself on Saturday – it was late and you were a little upset. My name is Margaret Elliot and I'm the social worker who's been assigned to your case."
Dick stared at her, stricken, because why did he still have a social worker? Shouldn't this be over by now?
She frowned a little. "What's the matter, Richard?"
"Where. Bruce?" Dick asked haltingly.
Her frown deepened. "Don't you remember what I told you on Saturday, Richard?"
Dick nodded. How could he forget? "Want. Bruce."
Ms. Elliot sighed. "Richard, I'm sorry, but I've already explained why you can't see him."
"Want. Bruce," he insisted.
She frowned. "I'm afraid you won't be seeing Mr. Wayne for a while. The courts have granted CPS temporary custody until we can determine exactly who or what caused your injuries."
Dick stared at her in horror. Bruce lost?
"Mr. Wayne lost custody?" Dr. Phillips asked.
She gave him a cold look. "Yes, Doctor, he did. The evidence against him is very strong, which helped the judge to see past the statements of people who are defending Mr. Wayne because of his money."
"My statement had nothing to do with Mr. Wayne's financial standing!" snapped Dr. Phillips angrily. "I don't believe for one second that he's abusing Richard and keeping him away from the boy while he's this ill is not only unnecessary, it's cruel."
"That's your opinion, Doctor," she sniffed. "But the judge and CPS believe something quite different." She turned to Dick. "Richard, I'm sure this is all a little overwhelming and frightening for you at the moment, but I promise you're in safe hands. I've already got a very nice foster home lined up where no one will hurt you."
Dick's heart was pounding as he shook his head. He didn't want some stupid foster home! He wanted to go back to his real home! "Bruce. Not… Bruce. Me…" He gritted his teeth in anger and tried again. "Bruce. Not. Me. Hurt."
Dick wanted to scream. Stupid aphasia!
"Richard, I know he's been your only parent for the last four years and I understand that you want to protect him," said Ms. Elliot gently, "but the truth will come out whether you want it to or not."
Dick glared at her. God, this woman was obtuse! She was only seeing what she wanted to see.
"Richard, I'm sorry you're angry at me, but believe it or not, I'm trying to help you."
"Want. Bruce!" he spat.
"That's not going to happen," she said firmly.
Dick closed his eyes and rolled his head away from her. This wasn't fair! He just wanted Bruce. Why couldn't this woman see that?
"I know this is a lot to take in," she continued, "so I'm going to leave and let you have some time to process it. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Ms. Elliot, is it really necessary to separate Richard from Mr. Wayne like this?" demanded Dr. Phillips.
"Yes, it is. CPS are taking Richard's safety very seriously."
"What about his emotional well-being? Don't they care about that?"
She ignored the question. "Dr. Phillips, if there is any change in Richard's condition, you know where to contact me… Goodbye, Richard," she added in a warmer voice to Dick.
Dick kept his eyes closed and his head turned away. The misery in his chest was nearly crushing him and this woman was responsible for it. She was the last person he wanted to see right now.
He heard a sigh and the sound of footsteps fading away. After several seconds, Dr. Phillips spoke. "She's gone, Richard."
Dick opened his eyes and looked at Dr. Phillips. The pain he was feeling must have been written all over his face because the doctor's features twisted into an expression of sympathy.
"I'm sorry, Richard, I really am."
His words were heartfelt and Dick nodded miserably. From what the two adults had said to each other, it sounded like Dr. Phillips had tried to help Bruce. And that meant something to Dick; at least someone was on their side.
"I know this must be difficult for you," Dr. Phillips continued kindly, "but if I can do anything to help, I will, okay?"
Dick nodded, keeping his eyes on the bed. They felt suspiciously hot and he was angry at himself. When had he turned into such a baby? He kind of needed Dr. Phillips to go before he embarrassed himself. "Me. Want…Alone."
The doctor sighed. "Alright, Richard. I'll be around for several hours if you need anything. In the meantime, try and get some sleep. It's been a long morning for you and rest is absolutely crucial after a traumatic brain injury."
And then he was gone, leaving Dick alone with his pain. Dick wrapped his good arm around himself and closed his eyes as several tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed onto his neck. Shame mingled with the misery and anger raging within him. He wasn't some baby, dammit! Stop crying!
But Dick couldn't help it. He felt lost, alone and completely helpless in the face of what was happening to him, even though it was his future they were all fighting over!
I want to go home, he thought miserably. Why can't I just go home?