A/N: As always, thanks to all you wonderful people who commented on the last chapter. :) I wish there was something I could do to show my gratitude other than continually saying 'thank you' like one of those irritating broken records, but alas, I haven't yet worked out how to magically send everyone cookies. Where is Zatara when you need him? ;) Also, fair warnings peeps, there is some swearing in this chapter because Bruce gets mad.
oOo
The weekend, and Bruce's supervised visits, went by in a flash. By Tuesday, Dick was well enough to be released from the hospital. His speech was back to normal and some of his old strength had returned to his limbs. However, he still tired very easily, which made even the smallest of tasks – like dressing himself – difficult.
His social worker was due to collect him at twelve, but it was now eleven fifty-five and Dick was still struggling to get dressed. He'd been at it for almost thirty minutes, and all he had managed to get on were his jeans, socks and sneakers – the laces of which were still untied. One of the nurses had offered to help but Dick had refused, mortified at the thought. It was one thing to let Alfred help him dress, but a stranger? Besides, she was a woman and that was just weird.
Awkwardly, Dick slipped his injured arm through the armhole of his sweatshirt. Thankfully, Alfred had removed the left sleeve on all of the sweatshirts that he had brought on Saturday; otherwise Dick would have been incapable of getting the sweatshirt on. It hurt enough as it was like this.
Dick scowled. This really sucked. Alfred and Bruce should be here, helping him to get dressed so they could bring him home. Instead, Dick was struggling to get his clothes on so he could go to the house of some stranger. All because CPS were a bunch of idiots.
He sighed as he finished easing the sweatshirt up along his arm. There were hundreds of homeless children on the streets of Gotham who could use this bed more than he could. Dick already had a home – a better home than that of every child in this city combined. This wasn't just unfair, it was a waste of resources. Dick thought it was possibly one of the dumbest things he'd ever seen.
"Are you ready, Richard?" Margaret Elliot asked, walking into his room without even so much as knocking.
"Almost," he muttered, cautiously pulling the sweatshirt over his head.
"Here, let me help," she said, pulling Dick's sweatshirt down and reaching for the sling he had discarded on the bed beside him.
"I can do it," he protested, wriggling his good arm through the other sleeve quickly. The last thing he wanted was her help!
But she ignored him and proceeded to slide on the sling and tie up the straps. "I'm glad to see the hospital recast your arm. Did they do it this morning?"
"Yes. And I can do that," he said, trying to push her hands out of the way so he could tie up the straps himself.
But she paid no attention to him and continued buckling up the straps. "That's good. I'm sure the splints were restricting your movements. At least now you'll have more freedom to play with the other kids at the foster home."
Dick scowled at her. "I'm thirteen. I'm too old to play with other kids."
"Of course you are," she said distractedly, buckling the last strap on the sling. "There. All done. Do you have a jacket?"
Dick nodded and grabbed the jacket he had slung over the back of the chair. He was just putting his good arm through the sleeve when she moved to help him.
"I can do it!" he insisted in annoyance.
Again she ignored him, pulling the jacket up before draping the other side over his shoulder. She was just about to zip up the front when Dick jerked away from her.
"I said I can do it! Are you just going to not listen to everything I say?!"
She seemed surprised. "Richard, of course I'm listening to you. I'm only trying to help."
"Yeah, well, I don't need your help! You've already done enough."
She sighed. "You know, this belligerent behaviour won't help your case. It only makes me wonder what's causing it."
"What's causing it?" he repeated, incredulous. "You've taken me away from my home! You're sending me to live with strangers! I told you that Bruce isn't hurting me so why won't you believe me?"
"Because children in your position lie all the time," she replied. "I'm not sending you back to that place until I'm one hundred percent certain that you're safe there."
"That's for a judge to decide, not you."
"And a judge may not rule in Mr. Wayne's favour. You need to be prepared for that, Richard."
"Of course the judge will rule in Bruce's favour because he's not hurting me!" Dick glared at her.
She sighed again. "Richard, I wish you'd stop fighting with me when I'm only trying to help."
"If you really wanted to help then you'd let me go home," Dick muttered, fumbling with the zip of his jacket. Out of the corner of his eye, his saw his social worker's hands reach out and he stepped back. "I can do it!"
She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, Richard. What about your shoes? Can you do those?"
Dick glanced down at his open laces and flushed because no, he couldn't. He had spent the better part of fifteen minutes trying to tie the laces before giving up. He had planned on asking a nurse to help with those, but if he were to walk past his social worker to get a nurse's help now, he would look like a complete child.
"No," he admitted in a low voice, fumbling with the zip of his jacket until he managed to pull it up.
"Do you want me to do it?" she asked calmly.
"Yes, p–" He bit off the instinctual 'please' that rose to his lips. Alfred would have been appalled, but Dick didn't think this woman deserved courtesy.
He was aware of how childish such reasoning was, but it was a less obvious sort of childishness than say, walking past her to find a nurse to tie his laces. Besides, he was thirteen. He was allowed a certain level of immaturity.
Without saying another word, Ms. Elliot crouched down to tie his laces just as Dr. Phillips walked in. Dick wished the man had walked in ten seconds earlier so he could have been the one to do it.
"All ready to go?" he asked Dick.
"Not really. I want to go home."
Dr. Phillips pursed his lips. "I know. But hopefully you'll be able to go home after the next hearing."
Dick nodded miserably. That hearing was two weeks away unless Bruce could get the date changed.
"Richard, I want you to take it easy for the next few days," Dr. Phillips began, as Ms. Elliot finished tying Dick's laces and stood up. "It's very important that you get plenty of rest so no physical activity of any kind. And if the pain in your head gets worse or you feel in any way funny, tell someone at once."
"I will."
The social worker cleared her throat. "Dr. Phillips, do you have any further instructions regarding Richard's treatment?"
"Yes," he replied in a brittle voice, handing her a piece of paper and a small bottle. "This is a prescription for Richard's pain medication. He's due pain relief in an hour so I have that here–" he indicated the bottle "–to tide you over until you get the script filled. I want to see Richard back here first thing Monday morning for a checkup."
She frowned. "That soon?"
"Yes." His voice was clipped and he didn't elaborate further. Instead he turned to Dick and said warmly, "You take care of yourself, Richard. I'll see you on Monday."
Dick gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Dr. Phillips."
"Let's go, Richard," said Ms. Elliot briskly, picking up Dick's bag.
"I'll get security to walk you to your car," said Dr. Phillips, moving towards the door.
"That won't be necessary. I'm parked just out front."
The doctor stopped and turned around. "Out front?" he repeated. "But it's crawling with reporters – you can't take him out that way!"
"There's press at every entrance to the hospital," she returned sharply. "There's no way of avoiding them."
"That doesn't mean you can't at least try! You're the one who put Richard in this situation so the least you can do is protect him."
Her nostrils flared in anger. "How dare you imply that I'm not ensuring Richard's safety! Especially when it was someone from this hospital who revealed that Richard was being released today."
"You don't know that it was someone from the hospital," Dick put in at once. "It could have been someone in your office."
She glanced down at him. "I can guarantee that it wasn't my office because my supervisor and I are the only people who know you're being released today."
"If it was someone in this hospital who tipped off the media then I apologize on the hospital's behalf," said Dr. Phillips. "Let me rectify the situation by having security walk Richard to your car."
"That will only draw attention to us," she pointed out. "And one security guard will do nothing to hold back that mob outside. The press will be expecting security, but they won't be expecting Richard to exit via the front door so I'm going to subvert their expectations by walking right past them. They're letting other patients and hospital staff exit without bothering them, and they didn't even look twice at me."
"Because they're waiting for Richard. They'll recognize him immediately!"
"Not once he puts this on," she countered, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a baseball hat. She sat it on Dick's head. "Pull that over your eyes once we get to the front door and no one will recognize you."
Dick stared at her in disbelief. Was she for real? That was the oldest trick in the book and the media would see through it at once.
"Ms. Elliot," the doctor began angrily, but she interrupted him.
"I don't have time to stand here arguing with you, Dr. Phillips. Let's go, Richard."
A knot steadily growing in his stomach, Dick was hustled past Dr. Phillips and out of the room by the CPS agent. As he was led down the hall, Dick threw an anxious glance over his shoulder just in time to see a very angry-looking Dr. Phillips stalk over to the nurses' station and pick up the phone.
Dick looked back at his social worker. She looked calm, like she really believed this would work. It was unbelievable how unreasonable one person could be. "Um, Ms. Elliot, I'm not sure this is going to work. Maybe we should–"
"Richard, don't worry. I've done this before and you'd be amazed at what people miss when it's put right in front of them."
"Yeah, but–"
"Trust me, people walk right by celebrities all the time without even seeing them. No one is going to notice you, especially when you're with someone nobody knows. Look around you, Richard, none of the people in this corridor are even giving you a second glance, are they?"
Dick glanced around and sure enough, no one was paying any attention to him. "Well, no, but–"
"I'll tell you what. If even one person recognizes you between here and the front door, we'll turn straight back around. Deal?" She smiled at him expectantly as they stopped at the elevator and pressed the button to open its doors.
"I guess…" Dick bit his lip. He wasn't sure about this.
They stepped into the elevator and Ms. Elliot hit the ground-floor button. Dick watched the numbers flash down, the knot in his stomach tightening nervously. He'd never faced the media on the same scale that Bruce did on a regular basis. From day one his guardian had sent out the message that Dick was off-limits to the press: Dick only travelled in the tinted cars, he never attended events where the paparazzi had free reign, and in the early days, Bruce had ensured that any paparazzi who overstepped their mark with Dick had difficulty getting work in Gotham again. Bruce didn't usually use his influence and power like that, but his reasoning had been that their example would encourage the next paparazzo to think twice before targeting Dick. It didn't always work – there would always be a few paparazzi brazen enough to try something – but it had been enough to ensure that Dick never had a mob of paparazzi screaming in his face.
The doors pinged open on the ground floor lobby and Ms. Elliot draped an arm across Dick's shoulders as they exited the elevator. "We'll look like mother and son this way," she explained quietly. "Now, pull your hat down and stay close to me. You wait and see, we'll be in the car before you know it."
Dick did as she suggested, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his gut.
No one paid them any attention as they crossed the lobby and, true to Ms. Elliot's claims, no one recognized him. But the real test was the vultures outside. Dick sucked in a breath as Ms. Elliot pushed open the front door and he caught a glimpse of the waiting crowd spread across the plaza; there had to be at least fifty reporters out there!
He didn't dare look up as they walked past the reporters, heading for the steps that led to the street. The knot in his stomach started to unravel when no one made any move towards them. He couldn't believe that the CPS agent had been right; without Bruce, Alfred or any security, no one was giving him a second look.
"We're almost there," she said in a low voice. "My car is the blue Honda just a few hundred yards in front of us."
Dick lifted his head a little and spotted the car parked by the curb…at the same time as a reporter coming up the steps spotted him.
The man's eyes lit up in recognition and he sprang forward, his camera flashing before Dick could react. "Richard, have you any comment to make about the accusations against your guardian?"
"Move out of the way, please," ordered Ms. Elliot, her grip on Dick's shoulder tightening.
The man ignored her, blocking their path while continuing to take pictures of Dick. "What about your injuries, Richard? What caused them?"
"Move!" snapped Ms. Elliot, trying to steer Dick around the reporter, but the man kept moving in front of them.
Several loud yells erupted from behind them and Dick knew they'd been spotted. Beside him, Ms. Elliot went rigid and literally pushed the reporter out of the way as she hurried Dick towards the steps. But it was too late.
In seconds they were surrounded and Dick was being blinded by flashes. He could hear yells from every side.
"Richard, is it true that Bruce Wayne's been abusing you?"
"Can you tell us what happened to your arm?"
"Where are you going now, Richard?"
"How long has the abuse been happening?"
"Is there any truth to the rumour…?"
"What's going to happen to…?"
"…plans to…"
"…abuse…Mr. Wayne…"
"…true that you…"
"…bruises…"
Their yells merged into one confused din as the reporters closed in around them, and Dick felt like he was being suffocated by the sheer volume of people pressing in on them from either side.
"Let us through. Let us through!" his social worker kept saying, trying to push her way through the throng. Her left hand had a tight hold on Dick's upper arm, trying to pull him with her, while shielding him as best she could with his own bag, which was clutched in her right hand. "I said let us through! This is harass–"
And then she was gone. Dick felt her hand being ripped away as she was swallowed up by the crowd. Wildly, he looked around for her but could see nothing except a wall of bodies and flashing lights.
Someone knocked his hat off, and Dick held up his hand as several cameras went off directly in front of his face. "Stop it!" he yelled, but even he couldn't hear himself.
Desperately he pushed at the mob closing ranks around him, but for every set of bodies he managed to get through, there was another set right beyond them. It was an absolute frenzy and he was trapped.
The reporters jostled closer, still yelling and nearly taking Dick off his feet. His injured arm ached as several people crashed into it and he felt himself start to panic. By now the reporters were pressed so close around him that even though Dick was being knocked sideways, the surrounding crush kept him upright.
This can't be legal! Dick thought, shoving blindly at the bodies surrounding him. He had seen Bruce run paparazzi gauntlets on the television before, but it had never looked quite as aggressive as this. For one thing, the reporters didn't touch Bruce. Instead they carefully maintained a circle of space between themselves and Bruce. And they had never kept Bruce trapped within the confines of the circle.
"Stop it!" Dick yelled, when a particularly vicious surge smashed into him, and a wave of pain shuddered down his arm. "Let me out…Please, let me out!"
The flashing lights were making his head swim and his ears started to buzz from the excited screams around him. His chest tightened restrictively, but Dick couldn't tell if it was from panic or the mob crushing him.
Fear starting to press down hard, Dick pushed frantically at one of the reporters. The man shoved back and Dick stumbled. He would have gone down this time but for the strong hand that caught him. Before Dick knew what was happening, he was being lifted off the ground and held tight against a broad chest.
Brass buttons glinted at the corner of Dick's eye. Dazed and shaking, he looked up into the grim face of one of the hospital security guards – Dick recognized him as one of the men who had stood watch on his door. Heart pounding, he looked around and saw another burly security guard viciously pushing the paparazzi out of the way, clearing a path in front of them. Cameras were still clicking and flashing madly, so Dick closed his eyes and put a hand over his face. His head was reeling.
Over the yells of the crowd, Dick heard the sound of something smashing on the ground, followed immediately by several expletives, but he kept his eyes shut tight. He was aware of the sensation of going down steps, more shoving while the security guard tried to get through the swarm, and then a harsh male voice roaring, "GET BACK!"
The next thing Dick knew, he was being put down. He opened his eyes to find himself in the backseat of a car, the press swarming around it. His social worker was using Dick's bag to push her way towards the driver's side where she had to struggle to get the door open. Dick could see that she was white-faced and trembling.
"Me an' Burt will hold 'em off as best we can 'till you pull out!" the security guard who had carried Dick yelled at Ms. Elliot, as he backed out of the car.
She nodded, seemingly unable to speak.
Dick grabbed the security guard's arm before he had withdrawn completely. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Yer welcome," said the guard gruffly, and then he was gone, slamming the door closed.
Dick heard the sound of the central locking kicking in and the car starting up while the mob around them continued to yell. Still shaking, he kept his head down as the car rolled slowly forward, Ms. Elliot honking the horn and revving the engine to get through the crowd. Only after several long minutes, when Dick felt the car moving smoothly, did he dare look up.
"Are you alright, Richard?" asked Ms. Elliot, eyes glued to the road and hands in a death-grip on the steering wheel. She sounded breathless.
"I…think so," he managed, voice weak and unsteady. His heart was still thumping. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Were the paparazzi allowed to do that?
"I'm sorry, Richard," said his social worker in a quiet voice. "That was completely my fault. I would never have taken you out that way if I'd thought for even one second they would recognize you."
His mouth felt dry. "I don't…I don't have to face them again, do I?"
Ms. Elliot shook her head. "Absolutely not. I'm going to speak to my supervisor about putting some special provisions in place for you. Fortunately, you won't be back at school for at least another two weeks so we don't have to worry about that just yet."
Dick looked miserably out the window. If he wasn't back home with Bruce and Alfred in two weeks, he didn't know what he would do.
oOo
"Bruce, you need to turn on the TV right now!" Lucius Fox's voice was urgent as he burst into the billionaire's office unannounced.
Bruce's head jerked up from the contract he'd been reviewing. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Just do it. Channel Five news."
Confused and a little alarmed because Lucius was known for his cool head, Bruce grabbed the remote and switched on the television. Flicking to the Channel Five news, his jaw dropped to see Dick being swarmed by a horde of reporters. The boy looked panicked as he tried to fend off the aggressive mob surrounding him with his uninjured arm.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Bruce roared, getting to his feet so fast that he sent his chair crashing to the floor.
"It happened ten minutes ago outside Gotham General," Lucius explained anxiously. "The press mobbed him as he left."
Happened. Past tense. Meaning it was too late to save him from those vultures. "Where the fuck was his damn social worker?!" Bruce snarled, rage boiling over.
Lucius shook his head. "I don't know."
Bruce watched as Dick was jostled and pushed, his head looking wildly around as though searching for a way out. The baying reporters kept knocking him sideways and Dick's small frame would have been trampled underfoot if the mob hadn't been hemming him in on all sides. Bruce growled, a very specific growl reserved only for Batman, when Dick's injured arm was slammed into several times by reporters and cameras. Jesus Christ, they were practically tearing him apart!
He kept losing sight of Dick whenever cameras or reporters got in front of the lens, but occasionally Dick resurfaced, pushing blindly at the bodies surrounding him. At one stage, Bruce could make out Dick yelling at the press and was able to lip read some of it. His heart wrenched when he realized what Dick was saying.
Let me out.
Bruce groaned miserably. Oh, Jesus, Dickie!
Dick's face was pale with fright as he pushed the nearest reporter hard. Something in Bruce rose up violently to see the man push back, but it was immediately squashed by blind terror when Dick stumbled and disappeared underfoot.
"No!" Bruce moaned in anguish, putting a hand over his mouth as Lucius gasped.
Bruce couldn't see what happened, but the next view he had was of Dick in the arms of a large security guard. The billionaire watched Dick raise a shaking hand to cover his face. Another burly security guard stood directly in front of them, clearing a path and meeting the aggression of the mob with aggression of his own. Bruce felt a vindictive pleasure at seeing the security guard knock a camera out of the hands of a man who attempted to shove it in Dick's face. The paparazzo went a furious shade of red and yelled at the security guard, who promptly scowled and yelled back.
Bruce made a note to pay that guard's legal fees when the paparazzo tried to sue him for damages.
He started when he spotted Margaret Elliot shouldering her way through the throng and shouting into the ear of the security guard clearing a path. Bruce clenched his fist in anger. Where had that bitch been from the start?
Then they all disappeared from view, and Bruce could see nothing for several minutes but flashing cameras and the heads of reporters. His next clear shot was of the security guard who had been clearing a path; his arms were held wide to keep the press back from a blue car with its back door open – Bruce couldn't make out the model. There was no sign of Dick, but the guard who had been carrying him was straightening up behind the other guard and closing the car door. Bruce guessed that Dick was in the car.
He could see the two security guards attempting to keep the mob back from the car, and then his view of the scene was obscured again. The last clear picture was of the car driving away with a few reporters running after it, before the frame cut to Vikki Vale in studio.
"Richard Grayson was then moved to an unknown location," Vikki said, clearly continuing with a news report she had begun before the footage of Dick had played. "Neither social services nor Mr. Wayne has yet commented on the media frenzy outside Gotham General, but the extreme reaction of the paparazzi has been said by some to border on assault."
The newswoman seemed conveniently oblivious to the fact that a reporter from her own news station had been there to film that clip of Dick being so savagely assaulted by the media. Bruce growled and stabbed the button on the remote to turn off the TV.
"Bruce?" Lucius ventured cautiously.
"Goddamn BASTARDS!" Bruce exploded, flinging the remote so violently onto his desk that it cracked before bouncing off the desk onto the floor. "What the fuck were CPS thinking exposing him like that? Jesus Christ, they remove him from my care because they think I'm hurting him and then they allow THAT to happen?! Where's my coat? I'm going down there!"
Bruce rounded his desk to find his path blocked by Lucius.
"Hold on, Bruce, you need to think about this rationally…" the older man began.
"Rationally?! Lucius, there was nothing rational about that! I can't leave Dick in their care! They haven't had him five minutes and look what's happened! I need to–"
"You need to calm down," Lucius interrupted seriously. "If you go charging down there in the temper you're in now, you'll only be handing them an excuse to label you unstable. Bruce, I know this is hard but you can't go down there. Not like this."
Bruce glared at him in fury. It wasn't Lucius he was mad at, it was the situation, but he still couldn't keep his glowers in check. "Well, what do you suggest I do? They're taking Dick to a foster home right now. What if the media follow him there? What if someone tries to kidnap him from there? He's not safe and I have to–"
"It's not your call to make," Lucius told him. "Your best bet now is to call your lawyer and have him contact CPS. Bruce–"
Lucius was interrupted at just that moment by the ringing of Bruce's cell phone. Scowling, the billionaire fished it out of his pocket and stabbed at the answer button.
"What?" he barked into the phone.
"Mr. Wayne, don't do anything stupid," came Kevin Green's voice at once. "You stay where you are and don't go near CPS, got it? Let me handle this."
So he'd seen the news too. "Stay here? You want me to stay here after that?"
His lawyer's voice was calm. "Yes, I do. I can hear how angry you are, Mr. Wayne, and it will seriously hurt your case if you go down to CPS and start yelling at everyone. If you handle this correctly it might work in your favour."
"Work in my favour?" Bruce repeated angrily. "Kevin, right now I don't care about that. Right now, all I care about is Dick being safe!"
"Then let me take care of it. I'll make sure that CPS are more vigilant about Dick's safety. You just concentrate on calming down."
"I want to talk to CPS," Bruce insisted. "If they can't provide the proper security for Dick then I'm taking him home where he'll be safe!"
"They're not going to let you take him before the dispositional hearing."
"Why not?" Bruce demanded. "They know I'm not hurting him! Why can't I bring him home?"
"Mr. Wayne, Dick is still a ward of the courts–"
"I don't care!" Bruce snarled.
"Well, you have to care," Kevin said calmly. "Dick hasn't been returned to you yet, and if you try to forcibly remove him from social services then you'll never get him back. Mr. Wayne, right now you are winning this fight. The evidence against you is falling apart: Dick's account of his injuries has lined up perfectly with yours. His doctor is arguing that not only is Dick not an abused child, but he is strongly bonded to you and removing him from your care would be extremely damaging to his emotional well-being. Not to mention everything that's happened at Gotham General is only strengthening your case because it supports everything you've claimed about why you don't have Dick treated there. If you go down there now, you will jeopardize all of that."
"Kevin, none of that is going to matter if something happens to him while he's in CPS' care! Dick isn't a typical case; he's my son and that puts him at risk. I need to make sure CPS are taking that seriously."
"Then I'll set up a meeting with them. For tomorrow. When you've calmed down."
"But–"
"Mr. Wayne, this is what you hired me to do. Please, let me do it."
"Kevin, I'm not undermining you, but I need to talk to CPS. It's not just about Dick's safety – I have to find out if he's okay! That mob could have hurt him and he's already recovering from other injuries." His voice was a little shrill and Bruce scowled. He needed to get a grip; he sounded like a hysterical housewife.
Clearly Kevin Green thought so too because his voice took on a soothing quality when he spoke again. "Mr. Wayne, I know how hard this is for you, but you have to think about Dick. The last thing you want is for CPS to think that you've got a bad temper when they're investigating you for child abuse. You need to calm down before you speak with them."
Bruce was silent. Kevin had a point, but he didn't know if he could just stand by while social services endangered Dick like this.
"Let me be the one to talk with CPS," Kevin continued. "I can find out how Dick is and make sure they take his safety more seriously until he's returned to you."
At that moment there was a knock on the open door. Bruce's secretary stood in the doorway looking nervous. "Mr. Wayne?"
He held up a finger. "Okay, Kevin, you win. But please, call me the second you have news on Dick?" Bruce swallowed anxiously. God, he hoped those vultures hadn't hurt him.
"I'll call back as soon as I've spoken to them," his lawyer promised and hung up.
Pocketing his phone, Bruce turned to his secretary. "Yes, Maggie, what is it?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Wayne, but I have Mr. Pennyworth on the phone. He said it's urgent."
Panic lurched through Bruce. Had CPS contacted the manor about Dick? "Put him through."
She disappeared back to the outer office and Bruce strode over to his desk. He picked up the phone as soon as it buzzed. "Alfred, what is it? What's wrong?"
The butler's crisp tones were slightly harried. "Master Bruce, please tell me that the reason I could not reach you on your cellular phone is because you were on a business call and not yelling at Gotham's social services department?"
"I was talking to Kevin Green. He was warning me against going down to CPS."
"How coincidental, that is exactly why I am ringing you."
Bruce grimaced. "You saw the news?"
"Unfortunately. Do you know if Master Dick was hurt?"
"I don't know. Kevin is going to contact CPS and find out. He's promised to get back to me as soon as he knows something."
"And I trust you won't be contacting CPS to yell at the first person who answers?" Alfred asked carefully.
"No!" replied Bruce, a little defensively.
"Forgive me, Sir. I believed you would react with great anger after such a reprehensible act by the press, and I only feared that it would cause you to do something you might regret. I was obviously mistaken."
"Obviously," Bruce muttered.
They both knew he wasn't.
"Did Mr. Green indicate how long it would take for him to get in touch with CPS?" asked Alfred, worry in his voice.
"He didn't say. But I don't imagine it will take too long after that debacle. CPS just made a monumental screw-up and they're going to be scrabbling to cover their asses."
"It would serve them better to ensure Master Dick's safety," Alfred sniffed. He paused, then added quietly, "I do hope he will be alright. I hate to think of him going to strangers after such an ordeal."
Bruce sighed miserably. It caused him actual, physical pain to think of it. "Me too, Alfred. Me too."
"Has there been any progress in getting the date of the hearing moved up?"
Bruce put a hand to his temple. "It didn't even cross my mind to ask Kevin. I'll find out when he calls back. I'll contact you as soon as I hear something."
"Very good, sir. I shall speak with you then."
"Okay. Oh, and, Alfred…thanks." Bruce was generally very good at hiding his anger, but there had been times when he would have erupted if it hadn't been for his faithful old friend. Alfred always knew exactly when and how to head Bruce off before he did something he would regret.
"You're welcome, Master Bruce," the butler replied quietly, before hanging up.
"Alfred warning you against going to CPS?" Lucius guessed, as Bruce returned the phone to its cradle.
He nodded. "First Kevin and then Alfred. All I need now is for Leslie to call and complete the holy trinity."
"Well, if they're the holy trinity then you can consider me the sentinel. I'm not leaving this office until I'm certain you won't do anything stupid."
Bruce sighed. "You all make it seem like I'm a complete rage-a-holic."
Lucius shook his head. "You don't get angry, Bruce. I've seen you face down the most frustrating, infuriating people in the boardroom without even so much as a facial tic. But when it comes to Dick…"
His voice trailed off, but Bruce knew what Lucius meant. Dick was his weak spot, the way through his shell. His son. What hurt Dick, hurt Bruce, and the billionaire reacted accordingly.
And what scared Bruce was that others knew it. After all, if you wanted something from one of the richest men in the world, then the best way to get it was by going after the person he valued most. It was what would make Dick a target while in foster care.
Bruce swallowed. He needed to get Dick out before that happened.