Concerned

Part 8

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The next three weeks were as bad as Dick thought they'd be. He was watched at the Weidman's house, he was watched at school and he knew that the paparazzi were watching him from their cars and behind the bushes and from their stepladders, which they used to look in windows. He knew and hated the sound of motor driven cameras and knew that it was just a matter of time before the pictures would appear in some magazine or newspaper in Europe, despite the gag order, and then there they'd be on the internet and from there it would become a free for all.

He was stared at in class and when he walked down the hall he heard the whispers and the snickering. One day in the cafeteria Joe Schmidt made a comment, 'Miss the comforts of home and hearth, Grayson?' and though he knew he was being stupid, Dick threw the first punch. Joe was laid out and Dick was in the principal's office with an earful and a warning to keep a lid on it.

Then there were the other kinds of attention. There were the ones, teachers and a group of girls, who seemed to think he needed comfort or understanding. They would bake him cookies or bring him lunch, equating food with happiness or something. The girls would sit next to him in the library or study hall and ask if he wanted to come over after school to go over the history or the math and mention that their mother's were great cooks or, better yet, that their parents wouldn't be home til late and he seemed so stressed that maybe they could help...

He told them that he had a court ordered police car picking him up after school and he had to be in it or the judge would be upset.

He managed to get himself a new cell by calling Wally from a pay phone, having him buy a new phone and open an account under his name-with Dick promising that he'd pay him back. The account wasn't connected to either Bruce Wayne or Dick Grayson and the authorities would have no reason to even know that he and Wally West were friends. He should be able to use it with no one being the wiser. Wally had come over that night and delivered it with no one being the wiser.

At the Weidman's he became more withdrawn and both the adults wondered what he was doing til all hours in his room. When they questioned him he would just say that he was reading or doing homework, but they didn't believe him. He knew this and he didn't care.

In fact he was making plans for what he would do after the custody hearing was over, after they lost.

In the meantime he was forced, day after day, to attend all the things he had dreaded and which he'd known he'd have to go through. There were the physicals to find any injuries that might have been caused by his being abused. He had to submit to psychological profiling and sessions to determine if he was adversely affected by what he'd lived with while he was in the Manor. He had to give depositions about his life and the incident where he hurt his ribs and he knew that whatever Bruce said to the lawyers wouldn't jive with his story. The kept bringing up his life in the circus and his parent's deaths and he hated that. He really hated that. They were his parents, this was part of his life and he felt like it was being taken away and twisted into something dirty and sordid-just like his relationship with Bruce and Alfred were being made to sound dirty and suspect. It was like all the good things, the closeness of the circus family, the love his parents and later Bruce had showered him with and taught him were now defiled. They no longer belonged to him, they were public property-or close enough and for the first time he really did feel abused.

The authorities probed and prodded into all his secret mental and emotional places, or all the ones they thought were there, and he felt like he was being raped. He had no control over what was happening. No one listened to him and no one cared what he wanted or needed.

He was still that cog. He had a mental image of Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times, the little man caught in the big machine. The only difference being that now the little man had his face.

The deck was stacked against him and he knew that what the ruling would be. He was sure of it. Bruce probably knew it, too and Dick was almost more upset about Alfred having to go through this than anything else that was going on.

Alfred had been his own rock for the last seven years. He had baked cookies and made sure his homework was done. He had kept track of what clothing sizes he wore and made sure he had whatever he needed. He had cooked and carpooled, tended to his illness's and his scrapes and stitches. Alfred had hugged him when he cried with his nightmares or his homesickness for his old life and he had taken him, whenever asked, no matter what time, to visit his parent's graves.

And now people looked at Alfred like he was a monster and that broke Dick's heart. It infuriated him as well, but there was nothing he could do now, not yet.

It was just all so wrong and it was all his fault.

What Bruce had said in the playground was true-he would no longer be a minor after his next birthday, but that was almost a year and a year was a long time. He couldn't stand this for another year.

But he had a back up plan and it would be what saved him this time. He knew it would. It had to.

God, it really had to.

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Bruce knew that the lawyers were worried. It would have taken a complete moron not to know. All you had to do was look at the controlled panic and the urgency every time he met with them to know it.

They thought they were going to lose.

The evidence was against them, Bruce knew it and so did Alfred.

That might have been what hurt Bruce the most, even more than what Dick was going through, nightmarish as it was, what Alfred was dealing with was almost worse.

Dick had been a grandson to Alfred, a surrogate son, a student, a listening post, and a bright light. He had put Dick up on a higher pedestal that he'd ever had for Bruce when he was younger.

Alfred didn't think Dick was perfect-he knew him too well for that, but he was as close as the old man ever thought he'd get. He was the almost perfect child, the almost perfect son. Over the last seven years Dick had thrown open the curtains, both literally and figuratively, for them all. He had brought lightness to the house, laughter and music. He was unpredictable and fey yet intelligent and studious. He was gentle, kind and yet would go toe to toe for something he felt strongly about. Where Bruce and Alfred were emotionally closed and reserved, Dick wore his heart on his sleeve, where they were circumspect, he was outgoing. He had overcome the tragedy of his parent's deaths without forgetting them. He was still their son but he was also Bruce's-and Alfred's as well.

And Alfred loved the boy as dearly as if he was his own grandson.

And Bruce loved Alfred as much as he loved Dick.

The old man had given his own deposition regarding how the boy had changed their lives but when the questions had turned to the long list of Dick's injuries he had been hard pressed to explain them in a way that didn't look incriminating. He left the lawyer's office looking distraught; believing he had failed to protect his two sons and Bruce ached for him.

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The police had gone through Dick's private messages and found that the rich really are different and it wasn't just because they had more money.

"Who's this? G@atlan.gov?"

"Like I know…wait…Atlan.gov? Isn't that like the Atlantis government? Didn't they just joint up, go partners with Verizon? I read that somewhere. You think the kid has a fish friend?"

"Wayne might have some contracts or something. I guess…"

Well, what are they saying?"

"Here…"

"Hey G, you on? Bruce is on my case again-I don't make honor roll he says no Aspen this year."

"Like when did you ever not make the honor roll?"

"yeah, whatever. It's cake but he's stressing. 'sup wid youse?"

"Arthur is mad because Tula was here when he came by for a surprise breakfast meeting. Really angry."

"Slut"

"jealous"

"Yeah, I am. Why does he care? You grounded?"

"I think Mera cut him off and yes, supposedly, but she just comes here."

"Slut"

"jealous"

The cops looked at one another. "So the kid has a friend banging his girlfriend underwater. They do that there?"

"Whatever. Teenagers-the same everywhere. Think he got to go to Aspen, poor kid? What's this one?"

"WG…Roy there?"

"no…not seeing him now."

"Because?"

"he's doing drugs again"

"Shit-you sure?"

"Yes"

"which ones?"

"H"

"shit"

"any ideas?"

"maybe. Intervention?"

"he'd tune it out"

"I'll try something. He with Ollie?"

"Nominally"

"So he has druggie friends. That's interesting. You think Wayne knows?"

"You think a few billion dollars buys some good shit?"

"The kid's clean, Jim. All the tests they ran on him? It looks like he doesn't even drink beer."

"What's this one?"

"Hey Dick, BW know about you and Barbara doing the deed?"

"Yeah, right. I'm completely stupid."

"He has to know"

"He knows everything. I know. THINKS he does…except he doesn't"

"You scammed him?"

"looks like"

"Chalk one up for you. You gonna tell him?"

"In your dreams"

"How OLD is she, anyway, like 30?"

"Bite me. 21"

"Close enough. She knows you're jailbait, right?"

"Like Commissioner Daddy would do anything"

"BW know about your social life?"

"Like he cares what I do. The man is busy…I mean the man is BUSY. I keep my grades up, keep my mouth shut and be where I'm supposed to be and life's calm"

"what about AP? He has to know"

"he bought the condoms"

"fucking go alf! The dude is too cool for school"

"What are you, living in the cast album of Grease? Alf is OK."

"and how's Babs?"

"Babs is great. I like her."

"You serious? You mean out of bed, too?"

"I mean I like her alot. She's amazing"

"dude, you are so whipped."

"bite me"

"Is the kid talking about Commissioner GORDON'S daughter? Jesus."

"Precocious tyke."

"Evidently. You think we can use some of this stuff? How old are these things?"

"From the week the case was reported…Yes, Jimmy, we can use some of this stuff."

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Nancy was in the kitchen, it was Sunday morning, the kids were both sleeping in and she was drinking her coffee with Tom reading the paper. She put down her cup. "He was out last night walking around again. Are you going to say anything to him about it?"

"I have, he swears at me, insults me and ignores me." He went on reading the paper. "Very pleasant."

"I know it's hard, but I just feel so awful for him. He's lost his real family, he's just lost his long-term foster family, at least for now, and he may well lose them permanently. Did I tell you that I went over to Wayne Manor yesterday to pick up some fresh clothes for him?"

He looked up at her. "No, you didn't. Impressive, is it?"

"In it's way. It's enormous, of course and the grounds are a showplace but what struck me was the butler. He's this very dignified Brit, maybe sixty or so and he just seemed so sad, kept asking me if 'Master Dick' was alright, was he happy, was he eating, was he sleeping well-all that sort of thing. I felt so sorry for him."

"Alfred Pennyworth is named in the case as neglecting Dick."

"I know that, but he's just seems so heartbroken. He took me up to Dick's room, which is twice the size of this entire floor, and besides the clothes he gave me a couple of things he though Dick would like to have with him."

"Like what?"

"A picture of his parents and a chess set he said Bruce had given him for Christmas."

"Nice chess set?"

"Well, yes, but I think Alfred just wanted Dick to have something from his home which was connected to Bruce. It was so sad."

Tom put the paper down on the table. "You know we have to talk about what happens if the hearing goes against Wayne tomorrow. Are we going to take Dick in or not?"

"I know. He doesn't have any real family left, does he?"

"I think there's a grandfather in Europe, but I doubt if the state will allow him to live with an elderly relative five thousand miles from here. It would be too much of a culture shock for him and I'm not even sure if he understands Romanian or German or Hungarian or whatever he'd have to speak there."

Nancy poured them each some more coffee. This morning caffeine was a good thing. "So do we take him in? He's so angry-he's not easy to have around and that won't get any better if he's pulled out of his home."

"Tell me about it. But if we don't take him, he'll end up back in the foster care system and an angry fifteen year old won't be easy to place. There might be some friends of Wayne who would take him."

"If Wayne loses the hearing the judge won't let Dick go with one of Bruce's friends. And there's something else. He'll be going to college in a couple of years-can we afford another child?"

Tom gave her a look. "According to Wayne's financial disclosures he's set up trust funds for Dick that are now worth over nine figures."

"Oh my."

"Oh my, indeed. So that's not a problem."

"Not a big one, no." They actually smiled at that. They were just barely paying the bills and sleeping thirty feet away was a kid worth over a hundred million dollars-if not more. No, college wasn't a problem. "Do you think he'd want to stay with us?"

"We'd have to ask him. Maybe, but he blames this on you and that would become a very big problem if he ended up here for good." She took another sip of her coffee. "That anger of his is frightening-no I'm not afraid he'll hurt me, I'm afraid for him. He's so upset now that I don't know what he'll do if he's taken away from Wayne. All he says is that he wants to go home. He won't be easy to have in the house. He's very smart and he has more resources than we do if he wants to leave."

"When he gets up we can talk to him."

"I am up and I want to go with Bruce and Alfred." His voice startled them; he was standing barefoot in the doorway, his hair wet from a shower and wearing his usual jeans and a tee shirt. He may be richer than the entire town, but he wasn't a spendthrift.

"We know that honey, but we have to at least give some thought to what may happen in case…"

"In case tomorrow the judge decides that Bruce gets his jollies out of beating me up when he's not ignoring me?"

"Dick…"

"Don't worry about it. I've already made plans that let you off the hook." And with that he turned around disappearing up the half flight of stairs to his room. In a couple of minutes they heard the front door close.

Nancy looked at Tom as the door slammed. "You know, I think he means it."

"I'm sure he does."

"So what do we do?"

"See what happens in the morning."

tomorrow

Dick was back in the small playground, sitting on the swing and talking on his new cell. "So you're sure everything is ready?…Good, great…No, don't do anything until the judge reads the decision…Because there's a small chance that it won't be necessary, that's why…Just hold off until we know for sure…OK, I'll see you tomorrow."

He dialed another number. "Hey, it's me, what are you doing?...So come here…No, I mean now, OK?…I'll even pay for pizza."

Twenty seconds later Wally was sitting on the swing next to him. "Hey, Dick, you look like shit, man. You OK?"

"Nice to see you, too." He was swinging just a few inches, like the other night-sitting in place and just moving his feet on the ground. "The hearing is tomorrow, ten in the morning. We're going to lose."

"I know, Barry told me." Wally wasn't looking at him, embarrassed or something. "That sucks, I'm really sorry."

"Yeah."

"What happens then?"

Dick shrugged. "I have a plan B."

"Of course you do. It gonna work?"

"Yeah, sure. My plans always work, you know that."

Wally smiled at the bravado. "And if B doesn't work than C or D will, right?"

Dick smiled. Wally was always so sure he could pull things off. "Right." God, he was scared. "Pizza?"

Just then Wally's phone went off, he checked the called ID. "Can't, dude, Barry wants me." He got up, but paused a moment. "You'll be alright, Dick. You're the toughest person I know. You always have been and we're here, y'know? The Titans, we're here for you, OK? You call us, we'll call you. You'll get through this."

That made Dick's eyes sting and he was close to loosing it, but he nodded. "I know."

Wally was gone.

If plan B didn't work he'd think about taking the gas pipe, for God's sake. There were no plans C or D. It had to work.

Picking up the cell again he punched in another number, his voice still choked. "Barbara? Can I see you? I can get a bus and be there in an hour…Thanks."

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