Hey! It's me. I'd say more, but gotta run around cause people just got here. Merry Christmas!

You Do Good, You Find Good

By: Cassie

Chapter Thirty

Jason Todd sat on the cooling stone steps, feeling the heat leaving as the sun slowly crept into the backdrop, ducking away behind the large cottonwoods that seemed to tower above countless other trees. Their leaves clapped goodbye with the wind, reminding the teenager subtly of the shore and for a moment he entertained the thought of running to the edge of Wayne Manor, where the cliffs dropped and you could smell the salt, and, on a clear enough day, spot a distant ship or fishing boat. Though Jason Todd remained on the stairs, allowing the day to come to a close before his very eyes, and taking note of the fact that he could smell the ocean.

'It's going to storm.'

Well, storm or rain, whichever Mother Nature decided. Either way, the temperature would drop, and the wind would gust, brining the already surrounding smell of salt all the more near. Alfred would open all the windows in their rooms, check the screens, and say something about how this was the kind of weather for a mystery novel.

Jason didn't much feel like reading, nor did he feel like pretending to care about such simplicities. He would much rather just crawl under his sheets and pull the blankets over head, ignoring anything and everyone, as to make time pass - make tomorrow come, and have it go by as effortlessly as these past few weeks had. Then, one day, he would wake up a very old man and forget what it was that bothered him so much. He would be happy, and find joy in the rain, and novels, and run out to see the ocean before the last rays of sun flickered out.

Though, of course, then he would die - but at least he would die pleased. Yes, that would suit him - to die a happy fool, none-the-wiser.

A noise to the left, near the patch of weeds, and the wild strawberry starter, caused Jason to turn his attention. To his surprise he found -

"Hey-a." Dick looked near miserable, not a smile in place or the inkling of offering one. Rather, the gypsy took an uninvited, unusually silent seat next to his younger brother. It was then that Jason noticed a piece of crumpled paper in Dick's balled up fist, held close to his stomach.

Jason gave it a moment's notice, then turned his eyes upward, glancing yet again at the sky. There was no change there. "You don't look so good." It had been a simple observation, but it opened the dam, and words came flooding into the once peaceful silence.

"Well, so, Dad's been on me about, uh, about my ... grades, what they are and stuff. I hadn't really bothered to look them up yet, 'cause, you know, the car..." Dick gave a half tremble and shook his head, eyes shutting for a moment, in dread. "This morning he woke me up before he went to work and told me when he came home he wanted them printed out and waiting for him."

"Uh-oh." Jason realized what that crumpled paper was.

"They're not all bad - just the one's he'll really care about." The last bit was said with some sort of distant distain.

To that, Jason just shook his head, knowing better than to believe that comment. If there was one thing he remembered about school, it was the day grades were sent out. There had been the second time when he flunked out, unable to pass the third grade, and on the car ride home thought of ways to break his arm as to lessen the Bruce's anger. It hadn't worked. In fact, when his guardian arrived at Leslie's clinic and heard the reason Jason had thrown himself off the roof of the garage, it had made things worse.

Leslie's soothing hand on his back, nor the sucker she had given to him after the cast was on, made it any better.

"I can't believe you did this again, Jason Peter Todd. We've been over this far too many times to make what you did excusable. You know better!"

"I said I was sorry!" Jason couldn't stop his tears, and they weren't from the throbbing in his left arm. He remembered being so embarrassed of those tears, but able to make them subside.

"Sorry?! You threw yourself off the garage because you thought it would make things better? What's going to happen when your social worker comes and demands to know why you're so banged up yet again? Huh? How many times do I have to tell your every accident is recorded and broadcasted? People don't understand, they assume that myself, or Alfred, are hurting you."

"Well, then I'll tell them myself."

Leslie was trying to say something, but Bruce plowed right through whatever it was, holding up a hand to her. Something he never did. "People are finding it hard enough to believe that you're intentionally hurting yourself. One day, hell, maybe even this time, they're going to charge me with child abuse, and then they're going to take you away. They'll make Dick and Tim go through rigorous questioning, and maybe even make them go as well."

"Bruce-."

"No, Leslie, he's a selfish little boy to put us in this situation again, and it's high time he heard this." Bruce turned to face Jason, eyes raging, speaking with a voice that was cold, low, and steady.

Jason felt himself shaking uncontrollably. He wanted to say he was sorry, and take back what happened.

"You and I are going to go home, and you are going to apologize to Alfred, Dick, and Tim for making them all worry about you. You are going to write a letter, in cursive, about what you've done, explaining why you did it and why it was wrong. Then, you and I are going to go over that letter, and you're going to fix each mistake I find."

"Bruce, you and I really need to talk in private about a few things concerning Jason and his prescriptions." The kind doctor was motioning towards the door. "Jason, are you still in a lot of pain?"

He shook his head, refusing to think about the possibility of being in pain. There were far bigger issues to worry about. It wasn't till late that night, in the middle of sitting in Bruce's office, struggling to figure out the correct spelling of garage, that he really started to realize all the splinters in his hands, or feel the gouge on his head that Leslie had covered with a large bandage.

It was between learning there was no 'd', and Bruce telling him that was enough for the night, that Jason was hit with the wave of exhaustion that he had been barring away.

He had been so scared of not moving on with all his classmates, and so ashamed that he wasn't smart like Dick, or cute and little, like Timmy. His teachers all hated him, he knew it. Miss Barnes had written a letter to Bruce and Alfred, instructing that next year Jason would be in a special program, and if he used any curse words, or hurt any of the other kids, he would be sent home immediately. Mr. Reedy, the Librarian, wrote a similar one, though this time instructing that and poor behavior, or abuse to the books, would earn a ticket to the 'silent room' for the remainder of the year, and Jason wouldn't be allowed come for 'library time'.

"I can't believe that you did so poorly this year. I keep hoping, with each new school year, that it's going to be different. That you're going to behave, and make good choices, but sometimes it seems like that's never going to happen." Bruce said, as he was giving Jason some pain medication and a glass of strawberry milk. "You're going to spend this summer vacation studying. I asked Alfred to find a tutor for you, and that way, when next year comes around, you'll be more than able to pass, hopefully even advance early somehow."

There wasn't anything to say.

"And Leslie gave me some pills that we're going to try out. Alfred is a stickler on making your own way, without any drugs, but even he thinks it's time to make some changes. If medication helps you focus, and control your ... behavior, then it's wrong of us not to let you try it."

It had been the start to a different way of life, for Jason. He remembered waking up the following morning and taking the pill, excited to think he would be like Dick. After that there were no more 'accident's', and his grades improved, slightly, as well as his behavior. He even made his first friend that following school year, and Alfred had made his favorite dinner when his progress report came through, and he didn't have a single D or F. True, there weren't any A's, and only a few B's, but still - it was something.

"Jason, I don't know what I'm going to do." Dick's voice grew stronger, coming out of the backdrop, no longer a blur or inaudible words. "I mean, I've never had this problem, I've never brought home bad grades. Never even a C+, and now ... I failed two of my classes." His voice seemed to grow weaker, and the gypsy slowly brought out the paper, carefully opening it, trying to smooth out the countless wrinkles, as if to undo his mistakes. "Completely bombed."

"Well, you could always jump off the garage roof."

To this, Dick seemed to lose his wind, his eyes grew wide, and for a moment he flashed back to that distant memory. Then, a smile finally broke free, and he shook his head, offering a chuckle. "Yeah? That never worked so well for you."

A shrug.

Dick looked down at the paper, and took in a deep breath, returning his attention where he didn't want it.

Nothing more was said.

The noise came from a distant, and for a moment, he thought it to be nothing more than a catbird. After all, there had been many times when he had mistaken the bird's call for a stray cat, and spent a moment or two looking around for some grounded creature. Though, when the mew came again, Jason couldn't help but force himself to rethink his theory.

"Wew!" It came from the patch of tiger lilies, under a window. There was no doubt about it, at that point - a cat.

Jason gradually found his way over, glancing around, as if to see if perhaps anyone else was in the proximity. If so, he could just let the whole matter go, and in passing, alert Dick or Tim to the presence or a possible stray. No doubt they would find it, and bring it to Alfred.

"Wew! Wew! Wew!" The tiny cries grew in persistence, as if trying to lure the teenager over.

"Ok, ok..." Jason took a few steps closer, and the whines died away, much like a crickets, and so he was left with nothing but the lily stems, buds, and twisted flowers, dead from the lack of sunshine. "Hello?"

Silence.

Hunkering down, he peered into the cluster of green. "Come out." He heard his own voice and knew better than to expect any animal to running out. If anything, all he was doing was making the critter all the more frightened. So, for a moment, Jason did nothing. He just sat there, feeling a bit of a chill settle deeper in. "It's getting fucking cold out here ... so, I'm going inside."

'Oh, that's good. Go on inside, and leave the thing here, out in the cold, because you won't even bother to find it. That's real nice. Like father, like son, huh?'

"Yeah, well, so what?" Jason argued with himself, hardly noticing what he was doing. "Maybe I am a bad person, deep down. What the fuck do I care?"

'Everyone already expects you to turn out that way, right?'

"Oh shut-up, Jays." The young man grabbed a fistful of his hair, feeling heat come to his cheeks about how silly he was for playing the self-pity card.

"Mew!"

Jason's head snapped up, eyes wider for a moment, as they settled back on the group of flowers. His thoughts returned to the problem at hand, and, with a sigh, he fell back, allowing himself to lie stomach up to the stars, angry with himself and angry with the cat for being there - which, of course, simply made him angry with himself for being angry at some stupid cat that didn't do anything.

"GARRH!" He threw his hands over his eyes in a poor attempt to block out his thoughts, but was left only with the ability to focus on them all the more. There was no distraction in the blackness. "Ok, ok, ok, ok ... be productive. Don't think, do ... do ..."

"Wew! Wew!"

The teen ignored it, keeping his eyes covered, figuring he did more harm than good bothering with whatever animal was in there anyhow. No doubt it was frightened of a strange boy, who talked to himself and occasionally yelled out in frustration. Never before had animals really liked him, or warmed up to his being near - Dick was always a natural with them ... but never Jays. Perhaps it was due to their sixth sense, and somehow they could just tell that he was generally a bad person.

Or something.

In the silence of continuing thought, two cold paws pressed against his leg, tiny, hardly present. There was clear hesitation before the animal decided to further its journey, and climbed up to Jason's stomach, to his chest, and then, pressed its wet nose against his chin.

To this, Jason opened his eyes, slowly, and found himself looking at the tiniest possible kitten (or so he figured) in the whole 'damn' world.

It wasn't very pretty to look at, skin and bones, matted fur with some gunk in its eyes - not to mention ears that looked like they had never been cleaned.

"Hi. I'm Jason."

With that the little creature launched off the teenager, flying back into the patch of lilies, leaving Jason feeling a bit terrible, and wondering if perhaps he was really just, deep down, a bad person.

Bruce came home to a near empty house, which wasn't too strange. After all, it had mostly just been himself, Alfred, and Tim living at home these past few years. Not to mention those nights where Timothy would be attending some study session or out with friends (whoever they might be. Tim seemed to make a point of never bringing them around).

The billionaire made his way upstairs, feeling groggy and tied up in his work suit - thinking of the countless ways he could just fire half of the members on his board. Selfish, rich bastards, who did little to consider any good deeds that didn't profit their image or the company.

"Hey." Tim was sitting on the top step, honed in on some new hand-held computer phone that looked far too condensed to be of any real use. Though, from the looks of it, the twelve year old thought very differently.

"When did you get that?"

"You gave it to me."

"I gave it to you?"

To this, Tim looked up, raising his brow and wrinkling his nose. "Yeah. You brought it home three weeks ago and tossed it to me, then said that it was of no practical use to you. Remember?"

No. He didn't remember, nor was he too surprised. It wasn't that rare he'd hand out new models that his company would send him. If he wanted something, he would buy what fitted his needs. There was no need to switch appliances every other day. "Ok." And he continued up the stairs, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Half an hour later, he returned, only to find Tim in the very same spot. It was impossible to make out what was on the screen, so Bruce decided not to worry. "Where is everyone else?"

"It's a big house."

Holding in a mounting sigh, Bruce simply walked past. "Thanks for your help, Timothy."

Dick snuck through the back door, holding his breath the whole while, and thankful for the fact that Wayne manor was extensive enough for a person to stay hidden. There was no doubt in Dick's mind that he could get inside without being caught, the real trouble lay in making it to his room and sleeping the remainder of the night. Bruce wasn't stupid, he knew better than just give up Dick for gone and let things go.

The air smelled of dust and a faint cleaning supply that only a handful of people might point out. He walked, slightly un-nerved, through the swarming white sheets leeching to the furniture, saving them from time, and found his way to the part of the house that didn't echo things forgotten. Though, oddly enough, it was there he really had to start being concerned about something snatching him - though this time it wouldn't be a ghost, or a mass murderer - it'd be Bruce.

God - if it wasn't for the smell of stale air, or the looming feeling of despair, he would go into hiding, much like the furniture. Perhaps he could throw a white sheet on top his head and everyone would just accept him as something that dwelled, and not to be bothered.

As he inched his way through the house he heard voices, Alfred humming in the library, and then Bruce talking on the phone a bit past that, in his study. Fuck. This wasn't going to be good. Perhaps he should just turn back around, camp outside.

'Ten bucks,' he thought to himself, 'that Jason would come with me.'

Finally he found his way to the stairs, where he, oddly enough, found Tim, sitting on the very top step, messing around on that stupid hand-help computer Bruce had tossed to him a few weeks prior. It was something that Dick had been slightly jealous about missing out on.

"Dad's looking for you." Tim hardly spared him a glance, clearly too interested in whatever he was doing. "Bad grades this semester, hmm?"

Dick held a finger to his mouth, signaling for quiet, which was a 50/50 chance with his younger brother. Depending on Tim's mood, he might start talking all the more loudly, just to poke fun, or he'd let Dick pass with just a shrug. To Dick's annoyance, it was the first of these.

"WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO BE QUEIT?!" Tim's mouth drew out into a large smile, brilliant blue eyes going up to his brothers, lit up and teasing. He giggled as Dick smacked him on the back of his head, flying up the stairs to go into hiding. "OW!"

"Jack-ass!"

A door from downstairs was heard opening, and Tim watched as Bruce came to the base of the stairs, peering up. "Did Dick just go by?"

"Not that I saw."

"Then with whom were you speaking?"

"Conner, see -." Tim showed Bruce the screen of the device, knowing full well his guardian wouldn't be able to see much of anything. It did the trick, and Bruce departed, saying something about telling Dick to come see him.

It wasn't but ten minutes later that someone else decided to make their way up the stairs, though this time, Tim didn't feel much like teasing - hell, even talking with them. After all, he was still on unfamiliar ground since Jason came home. Every time they were around each other, things got tense and stuffy. It was as if they both were just waiting for the other to trigger to explosion, yet neither ever seemed up to the task.

Jason climbed past Tim, silent as could be, eyes guarded, staring firmly somewhere past Tim. Just when he passed the twelve-year-old, he muttered a small string of words. "There's a stray kitten out there. Tell Alfred."

"Have you seen Richard?" Bruce came into the kitchen, knowing full well Alfred would be there, sitting at the island counter, looking over his schedule for tomorrow.

"Not recently, Master Bruce."

"Did you feed him?"

This was an amusing question, and the butler hid his smile best he could. "He was not at dinner, though, all things considered, nobody came down to eat. Master Timothy did take the liberty of making a sandwich earlier - but other than that, I have not seen any of the young masters."

"He's avoiding me, and I know damn well why that is." Bruce huffed, feeling his frustration growing with just this simple conversation. "I asked for his grades this morning, it's been weeks since he's been out of school - said I wanted them when I got home from work. Naturally, there was nothing. So, finally, I logged into his school account and found out for myself." The billionaire slammed a sheet of paper on the counter.

Alfred looked over at it for a second, then picked it up, smart enough to know what to expect.

"He failed all his business classes as well as his Advanced Calculus and Chemistry."

"Indeed he did. Ah, but he did brilliantly in his Criminal Justice course. Flying colors, if you will."

"You're being calm because I'm mad, right?" Bruce hated when the butler would do this. It had been like it since before he could remember. He would go to Alfred to complain, hoping to get some support, and in return was given reason. "I suppose you think I should congratulate him, and tell him maybe business isn't for him, hmm?"

"I am simply speculating on the whole picture."

"Well, it seems like you're speculating on only the good."

"Master Bruce, pardon my saying so, but it appears you are focusing soley on the bad." Alfred handed the paper back, offering a polite smile. "Master Richard hardly spoke of those classes, and when he did, he said they were hard to concentrate in. Though, if I do recall, in all his phone calls home he spoke highly of the others, regaling us with tales of different criminal cases, as well as the field trips they would take."

Bruce didn't want to hear this. It wasn't helping. "He was the top of his class throughout grade school. I don't understand how a brilliant kid can go from attentive and respectable to having A.D.D. You know what I think it is?"

Alfred didn't offer an answer to that.

"I think it's because we let him move out, and live on campus. If he had stayed here, this wouldn't have happened. It would NEVER had happened."

"Perhaps, but then, he cannot live here his entire adult life." Alfred offered. "And we must keep in mind that these past years have been hard on us all - and there have been many changes. Look at Master Timothy."

"It doesn't change the fact that this sort of behavior isn't acceptable. If it had been Jason or Tim, I would have come with the same complaints."

"Would you have?"

"Of course!" Bruce narrowed his eyes, curious as to what sort of question that was.

"Master Bruce, you have always had different standards for each of the three. You hold Jason to a standard that is fair, you accepted that he struggles with school, as well as with social situations. You have shown him kindness and understanding throughout his entire life. Even now, in his return, you give him the space he needs. With Master Timothy, in his earlier years, you did everything you could to ensure that he was protected, perhaps a bit too much. Now that he's older, you have raised the bar, but still you treat him very differently. You allow him more space than he needs, and confuse seclusion with dedication."

Bruce naturally found himself on the defensive. "Tim is a brilliant kid, he advances himself because that's what's important to him. He has friends, look at all those study groups he was in. You can't tell me those aren't his friends."

"What twelve year old enjoys school as much as he does?" It was a fair and honest question.

"This isn't about Tim! I only do what I think is best for him."

"You do what you think is best for him because that is the way you were as a child."

This was horrible to hear, and the billionaire hated it.

"Master Richard has always been active, always done whatever sports he was allowed, and naturally did everything he could to please you. You both were close from the start, because he made you his friend, unlike the other two." Alfred wondered how much of this was actually getting through. "He would come to you with any problem, or any situation, and tell you about it. He waited for you to come home, so you both could go outside and play soccer. Do you not remember? Even when he was older he was more of your friend, and you always expected very different things from him than the others. You expected excellence, because you and he were always closer."

"So I'm not close with Tim and Jason, is that it?"

Alfred was careful with his reply. "When they came here, they viewed you more of an authority. When Dick came here, you and he viewed each other more as friends. Naturally, you are closer with him because of that."

This was more than enough. Bruce scoffed, deciding that Alfred wasn't making any sense. "I didn't come here for a lecture. I came here for advice. I want you to tell me what to do. I want you to tell me I have a right to be upset."

"You have a right to be concerned. These grades are upsetting, and Master Richard clearly did not put his full effort into them." It was an answer, but the expression on Alfred's face, mixed with the tone of his voice, seemed to harrow on something else. "As for what you should do, I think you already addressed that issue before he went off to the university."

That was correct. Bruce remembered telling Dick that any grade below a C+ would be a class that Dick had to pay for himself. "Fine." He left as abruptly as he had come in, leaving Alfred in a lesser mood, and himself in an even worse one. Everything Alfred had said seemed to be such an attack, something that Bruce couldn't help but take personally. He hated to think that he held any of the three at different standards, or showed that he might care more about one than the other. It was unfit, not to mention something he had never really considered his fault.

He took the stairs, yet again, and found Tim in the very same spot.

"What are you doing still sitting here? You have better things to be doing than sitting on that computer, staring at that screen for hours on end."

Tim snapped his head up at the tone, and slowly nodded, knowing better than to do anything to make matters worse. He was in the path of a storm, and it was best for him to get out of the way.

"Ok."

"Now, I want the truth - has Richard come by there tonight? The TRUTH, Timothy."

"Yeah, maybe an hour or so ago. I think he went to his bedroom, or Jason's."

"Alfred says you need to socialize more, and that I hold you back from doing that. So you need to look at joining some kind of club, where you can make friends. I want it done by tomorrow evening." Bruce ignored the look he received and brushed on past, going to Dick's room and giving a single knock on the door before entering. He found it empty at first, but then walked to the other side of the bed, finding Dick with headphones in, lying on the floor, GameBoy in hand. "Hey."

The gypsy froze, and slowly lifted his gaze to Bruce. As soon as their eyes met, Dick pulled his earphones out and sat up. "Hi."

"I asked for your grades."

"...I printed them out. I just guess I got sidetracked. They're -," he started to look around, as if they were nearby. "They're around here somewhere."

"Don't bother, I took the liberty of finding out myself." Bruce let the paper drop to the floor, landing in front of the teenager. "I have a feeling that you weren't ever going to show me."

Dick picked up the paper, quietly looking at the letters he had been dreading all day long. He honestly had nothing to say. There was no explanation that would make this 'ok'.

"Well?"

"I don't know." Dick's voice was low, only just audible.

"You don't know what? How it happened? I have a feeling you know exactly how it happened, and I would like to know, seeing as I paid for these courses."

All the explanations that Dick had thought up seemed stupid and feeble now. "I don't like business. It's hard, and boring, and the professor didn't much care for me. All the kids there were two-faced, and the only reason they wanted to talk to me was to find out things bad about me that would get them ahead. They only ever talked about you, and how great it would be if they could work for your company. They were my friends because they could use me. I didn't like them. I didn't like any of it."

"That is no excuse for you to fail a class. You don't decide to do well depending on how many friends you have or don't have. That is ridiculous. You think everyone I work with is my friends. If I made deals with other businesses only on the notion that I wasn't going to be used for my reputation, or on the factor that they were good people, I wouldn't get anywhere." Bruce shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"Well, it's not easy for me. Ok?"

"So in your criminal justice course, you had enough 'friends', I take it?"

"It's not just that!" Dick flushed. "I liked the class, it was interesting. They were all hard, but it was easier to focus on the ones I liked. It's not easy studying for something you don't even want to do."

Bruce was quiet for a moment. "You're saying that you want to get a degree in criminal justice? Richard, do you have any idea what jobs are in that market? You either become a cop, or you become a professor. That's about it."

"Well, what's so bad about that? I think I could be a cop. It doesn't sound so bad. Look at Commissioner Gordon."

"Gordon is an honorable man, I won't deny that, but if you think I'm paying all this money so you can go to college to graduate as a cop for Gotham or any other city, than you're wrong. I refuse to allow you to go into that line of work. It's idiotic."

"But I like it."

"You have been given many talents, you're smart, and you come from money. Those two combinations don't equal that career path. Gordon will tell you the same thing. Barbara is trying to get into that career, and I can tell you right now, she's going to have a hard time finding a job because he won't let anybody hire her."

Dick held back what he wanted to say, feeling his anger swelling up more an more. None of this was fair, and if Bruce thought that he was going to sit around in an office all day long, he was wrong. "I don't want to be in business."

"You don't have to be in business."

"Then what am I supposed to do? If I can't do what I want, then what am I supposed to do?"

"This isn't an argument. This is how it is. You aren't becoming a cop. Let's imagine, for a moment, I do allow you to follow this dream - I can tell you right now it won't end well. You will have all of your peers think that you got your position because of bribes and money. They'll hate you. Then, when you're out there, and facing a criminal, you think they're going to take you seriously? You will be viewed as a spoiled rich kid who doesn't belong." Bruce didn't hold back one bit. He wanted Dick to know the truth, every bit of it. "You'll be considered a target, and the only job they'll give you is giving out speeding tickets or helping with traffic for parades."

"Gordon won't let that happen."

"Gordon won't have a choice. He knows how crime is. He knows I have people who hate me. He won't want to bother with having to worry about one of his own men. Nor will any other half-brained officer out there. You would cause them too many problems. Case closed."

The Romanian stared down at the paper, focusing on the two A's he had received. "You're not being fair. You're saying that to make me change my mind."

"I'm telling you the truth. There's nothing to change, because you won't become a police officer in any city."

Dick refused to look up. He put the paper down, to the side and slouched back down, grabbing his GameBoy and turning it on. There was clearly no reason to do or say anything else on the subject. Bruce wasn't going to listen anyhow.

"We're talking. Turn that off."

"You're talking. You don't care what I say."

"Now you're being a child."

Dick went tense at that accusation. "No I'm not."

"Give me the GameBoy, Richard."

"Fine. Here." Dick held it up, still not making eye contact. "Good luck. I'm on level 23, it's pretty tough." He was sounding like a rebellious teenager, and it wasn't something he was any good at. Though, it was hard not to, seeing as he didn't know what else to do.

"You're eighteen years old, kid." Bruce said, turning off the GameBoy, and hearing the *ping* as the screen went blank. "I understand that it's not easy to hear, but it's the way things are. There's not changing it. Just like we can't change the fact that you're stuck in this house till Harvey Dent is caught. Life isn't fair. If it was, then Jason would never have gone through what he did. Barbara wouldn't be in the hospital because of who her father is."

Dick folded his arms across his chest and hunched down a bit more, hating that Bruce decided to play this card - like he understood. "Sure, blame it on her father, not on the fact that Jack Naiper was insane. It wouldn't matter who she was, he'd have done the same."

"Then why was the secretary left unharmed? Why did he get Barbara? Dick, if she hadn't been there, it would have been a kill just because someone was in the way. Barbara didn't do anything but be the daughter of someone important." Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the GameBoy and noticing the obvious wear to it. It was the original grey, standard model - Dick had all the new ones, and yet, this thing was still up and about. "You still have this? Did your others break?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I like that one."

"Ok."

"So can I have it back?"

"Not right now." Bruce groaned, pushing a hand through his hair, and glancing out the window. It was starting to rain. "I don't know what to tell you, chum."

Dick dropped his head a bit, and sighed. "I'm tired. I want to go to bed."

"Fine, we can talk about it tomorrow. It'll give you time to think."

"Think of what?"

"Of what you're going to do. You're plan. How you can make this mistake right. These grades aren't ok. You know that."

Ugh. Here it was again, the feeling of being talked down to, like he wasn't being taken seriously, like he wasn't an adult. Dick hated hearing that tone of voice. He had heard it since he was eight. "My plan is whatever you tell me to do."

"Come on, Dick."

Silence.

"We'll talk in the morning. We'll both be thinking clearer. Goodnight." Bruce got up, and turned to go, paused, then turned back around. "Here."

Dick found himself being forced to look up. He saw the GameBoy being offered and quickly averted his eyes, accepting it back. "Thanks."

The next morning only seemed to prove that a good night rest was somewhat overrated in the area of problem solving. Dick woke up in the same mindset as the night before, and Bruce woke up a grouch when Alfred reminded him of his lunch meeting with Gills and West Co. concerning their desire to set up shop in Gotham as they had in Metropolis. They were a kill and destroy company, and they knew things were rocky at Wayne Enterprises, what with the disagreement of board members and Bruce Wayne himself, thus, they had scheduled the meet and greet. There was no better way to ruin a good meal than to have to be polite to people you hated.

As Bruce straightened his tie, he thought on what Dick has said the night before. How he had hated his business classes for this very reason; People being polite to you because you had something they wanted. "Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

The two stood downstairs, in the entry-way, getting ready to leave for the day. Bruce turned to him, quiet for a moment, considering, and then giving a half smile. "I'll drive myself to work. I'd like you to wake Richard up and bring him to the office in, let's say, four hours. I think I have something that might be a good ... lesson for him. Besides," Bruce picked up his satchel, "He might prove to help out a little himself."

"Of course, Master Bruce."

This would be perfect, a way to show his fellow CEOs how selfish they were all being, and how stupid the whole matter was. It might not make things better again, but it would be a lesson they all could use.

Money was the root of all evil. Fucking right.

"If you think that you're going to change my mind by dragging me around the office, you're wrong. Freakin' wastin' my summer here." Dick entered Bruce's office in a clear state of disgust. He flopped into a chair in the back of the room, refusing to approach his guardian's desk. He was uncomfortable in his slacks and polo shirt that Alfred had forced him to wear. The clear sign of his protest was his black sweat jacket he wore, hood up, as well as his headphones in, blaring music that Bruce didn't much care to hear.

The billionaire checked his wrist watch, and nodded at the teenager. "Glad you made it."

"Why am I here anyhow?"

"I thought we might be able to help each other out."

"I'm being forced to 'help' you, meaning you're going to toss me on some poor person to show me around and waste their valuable time, all in hopes you'll change my mind about my career path." Dick slouched even further in the chair, muttering something under his breath that Bruce was pretty sure started with an 'f' and ended with a 'k'.

"Actually, no. This is only for the day actually, it's just for lunch. After that, I'll bring you back home. Sound 'ok'?" It was getting time to leave, so Bruce stood up and collected his things, putting a few papers away, and then clicking the line over on his phone. "Sarah, I'm headed out for the day. I don't see any reason for me to return. Could you send all my messages to my home office? Feel free to take an early day yourself."

"Of course, sir. Have a good time."

Bruce was actually starting to think he just might. Glancing up at his eighteen-year-old he nodded towards the door and grabbed his jacket. "All right, let's get going."

"At least tell me we're not eating someplace stuffy and lame. If I have to go listen to why I should pursue a degree in business and communications, then at least let's go to McDonalds."

"Can't win 'em all, chum."

The car ride gave Bruce a headache. He allowed Dick to drive, after much begging and pleading. Though, after the first ten minutes of listening to some loud music by some angry singers, Bruce had enough and changed the station.

"Hey! I'm doing this because you want to show me what a great idea it is to graduate and come work in your office. The least you can do is let me show you what a great idea it is for you to listen to decent music." Dick was starting to go over the speed limit, to which Bruce told him to slow down.

"If you get a ticket, you're paying for it. As for your music, I think decent is an opinion."

"Isn't everything?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, it's not."

"We could debate this, you know, and neither of us would be able to win the argument."

"I'd win the argument." Bruce didn't spare any formalities. "Turn up here."

Dick did as he was told, only to turn the radio back on.

They came to the restaurant and headed inside. Bruce didn't even have to say his name, the seating hostess just asked him to follow her and they were taken into the private dining area. A few other of the board members were already sitting there, papers spread out before them, arguing about what to do. When Bruce came in the looked up, and frowned at the sight of Dick.

"Bruce. I hardly think this is the time to bring the kid in to learn the ropes." Ted Hardess repositioned his glasses. "No offense, but this is a very serious meeting."

Dick hunched a bit, eyes wide, looking between the table and Bruce.

"I think I know the severity, thank you, Ted. Richard will be joining us, none-the-less." He took a seat with a smile and nod. "I can see your concern, but don't worry. I don't take this whole lunch too seriously. We're in no position for them to profit. Not yet."

"If you say so." It was clear Ted didn't like that frame of thought. He pushed some papers towards Bruce. "I outlined what they're wanting to discuss, their terms and conditions, and what we all think would be the best-."

"This isn't going to be a meeting. They wanted to see us all for a nice lunch. That's why we accepted to. If they bring up anything, I'll address it then."

Dick took a seat to the left of Bruce, looking about as confused as possible, and somewhat frustrated. He pulled his hood back and glanced between the faces around him. It was obvious that Bruce's fellow board members were put off.

"Then what are we doing here?" Bill Bryson folded his hands and leaned back, opening his mouth as he waited for an answer.

"A lunch, just as they requested."

Five minutes of silent hostility, and the seating hostess came back with three gentlemen in their mid forties, all of which were all smiles and falsity.

"Mr. Wayne! It's a pleasure. I'm Jack West, and these are my partners Donald West and Ronny Gill." He held out his hand, to which Bruce accepted.

"How are you doing, please, have a seat."

"Sorry if we kept you waiting at all." Ronny Gill offered, pulling out a chair beside Dick. He paused, cocked his head and smiled at the teenager. "You can't be part of the board. That, or I'm looking at the youngest CEO I've had the pleasure of meeting."

Dick shook the hand that was given to him and shook his head, embarrassed to be caught with his mouth full of bread. He tried his best to swallow. "Urh, no, not yet. Dick Grayson, nice to meet your acquaintance, sir."

"Richard is sitting in on this lunch." Bruce said with a smile. "He's attending the University. I've been trying to get him to pursue a degree in Business, but he's got his mind set on becoming a police officer. I thought this might be good for him, maybe change his mind." Bruce explained.

The table was silent, exchanging looks of utter surprise, especially from the West Brothers and Mr. Gill.

"...Well, I know how that goes. My kid thinks he's going to travel overseas and watch birds." Donald Gill forced himself to converse. "Though, he's only 3, I still have time on my side."

"Ah, that you do." Bruce motioned towards the waitress, who stood against the wall, waiting as she did far too often. "Why don't we go ahead an order? I'd hate to keep this lovely lady waiting any longer than need be."

They all put in their orders. It was finally Ronny who broke the ice, yet again, turning towards Dick. "I remember college days. It's a great time. What year are you?"

"A freshman, sir, or well, I guess sophomore now." A shrug. "Not sure how that all works, seeing as I haven't declared a major."

"Well, let me tell you, take your time on deciding what to do. You don't want to spend five years trying to graduate, only to discover you hate the job line you picked." He took a long drink from his iced tea, and smiled. "I had it in my head I was going to be a nurse, but changed my mind after the first semester."

"Why?"

"... I had a lot of talent, and opportunity that most kids didn't. My father already had a job waiting for me, and I was planning on getting married to my high school sweet heart. I suppose, after a bit of time, I realized that I was meant to do this."

Dick smiled. "Why did you want to be a nurse?"

"... well, medicine has always interested me, but back then I really enjoyed the idea of saving lives. My grandfather, on my mother's side, was a nurse. I always felt that he was the most honorable person I knew. He worked hard to support his family, at a job that where people didn't treat him with much kindness." Ronny smiled and shook his head. "He died an old, happy, well lived man."

"He sounds like a great guy."

"He truly was."

"...You like what you do?" Dick wasn't sure why he was asking, other than the fact that the question was there to be asked. It was an honest query.

Ronny looked around the table, straightening a bit and chuckling. "Well, if I didn't do what I did I wouldn't get to see and meet all the people I have."

To this, all Dick could do was nod, knowing full well when a question was avoiding being answered. He grew up listening Bruce talk to people just like that. Polite ways to move on with the conversation. It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. "Cool."

"You should give it a fair chance, Richard. Who knows, you might like it." Now it was Donald speaking. "Then maybe one day you can take your kid to meetings."

There was a forced laugh, even from Bruce, Dick was the only one who didn't seem amused.

"I've taken five classes in it already, actually." The gypsy replied. "I didn't like the ... classes."

Bruce leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. "He felt that his classmates were all out to get him."

Another bit of polite laughter, to which, yet again, Dick didn't join. Rather, he felt red creeping into his cheeks as he looked down at the table, confused why Bruce was doing this to him. It wasn't like his guardian to humiliate him in public. If he was trying to prove that all people in business were assholes, he was doing a good job.

"Not a bad mind-set." Ted muttered.

"Indeed."

"I didn't think they were out to get me." Dick looked at Bruce, brow furrowed, confusion in his eyes. "I just ... didn't like it."

"It's ok, Dick, I'm not trying to make you feel badly." When Bruce spoke, he looked the teenager directly in the eyes. "I just wanted you here to give us all a glance at what we once were." He turned his attention back to the table. "I think we all know why we're here, having lunch, making nice conversation, and laughing at things we'd rather not even bother with."

Ted was shaking his head at Bruce, desperate to get the man to stop.

"West and Gill Co. asked us here because they're aware, as are most, that Wayne Enterprises has been struggling to make some important decisions. In fact, we've been arguing these matters for years, to a point of exhaustion, to a point where we're doing ourselves harm - as well as the company. We've lost billions of dollars that we shouldn't have, and now still are trying to figure out what to do and how to revamp."

"Mr. Wayne, please."

"No, it's ok, I'd like to say this. We all need to face the truth. West and Gill Co. sees an opportunity, and I don't blame them. I'm more than happy to have a real meeting with you, but first we all need to confirm what is going on, because I don't think we all see the whole picture." Bruce sat up a bit more. "Dick, as I said, doesn't care for business. He said to me that his classmates be-friend him simply to use him. He said to me that they know who he is, and his relation to this company, and thus do what they can to use that to their advantage. Which, of course, means they're doing a damn good job at preparing for the degree the picked."

Ronny chuckled.

Dick, on the other hand, simply buried his head in arms, on top the table, refusing to look around at all the eyes watching. He wished he was Jason, so he could just explode and start yelling at everyone and cussing the whole room out, especially Bruce. This was just ... cruel. And it wasn't even McDonalds.

"I'm not in the right mindset to have this meeting, as you can see. So, I thought before we all start to make agreements and decisions that will impact all our workers, we could have a lunch and get to know each other. I am more than happy to pay for your troubles, and even pay to have you back in Gotham for another meeting. Though, as for right now, I cannot make the choices you want me to. It's just not possible."

Jack West had been silent since practically the start of the whole venture. Now he finally spoke. "I can see that this isn't going to be the meeting I had hoped for. My wife won't much like the idea of me having to travel all the way back for a reschedule."

"I'll tell you what, the three of you can pick a weekend and I'll pay for you and your families to come and experience Gotham. Then, you're all welcome to dinner and drinks at my place. There, after a home-cooked meal, and some good scotch, we can talk about whatever it is that you want to." Bruce smiled, honestly this time. "I'm asking for the opportunity to see if your company is worthy of going into business with. I know your plan was to come in and force us to make a decision of where Wayne Enterprises is going, but I'll tell you my company isn't splitting. I know the rumors are that we're headed towards a split, but that's simply not true."

This was clearly news to the rest of Wayne's board members.

"I owe the company, and I see an opportunity to collaborate with your business, create more jobs, and give Wayne Enterprises the kick start we need to get back in the swing of things." Bruce motioned towards Ronny and Donald. "You're a large company, larger than Wayne Enterprises, but I'm offering you a partnership where you can profit from more than just this branch."

"You're talking about Wayne Tech, Wayne CO, and the others as well?" Ronny looked confused. "Why is that?"

"Because, I know what you do, and I know you have a few companies of your own in various cities. I know a good business opportunity when I see one."

Their food had arrived, and now the waitress and seating hostess were both calling out the plates, and putting them in the appropriate spots. The gentlemen calmly waited, smiling and giving "thank you's" as their food was received. Once everyone had their meal, the two girls asked if everything looked ok, then headed off to their next task, leaving a silence waiting to be filled.

Bruce started to speak, when Ted spoke up, clearly put off by what was being said. "Listen, this is all very well and good, Bruce. I'd like to tell these men the same thing, but you can't just force a decision like that without consulting the other members. Where only half here."

"I am forcing this decision on Wayne Enterprises. Though, I can't speak for what West and Gill Co. will do, if they'll even be interested. As for my team, I know that Mr. Fox and I agree to this, and that is all that really matters. Either we agree to this, or abandon ship."

"If I'm wrong, correct me, by all means, but I think that's what some of the board members want."

"Yes, they want to sell the company and make a quick pay off for little work, because you all have stock in this. Though, if you care that much about money, then at least consider the fact that you all stand to make double what you would if we did this partial merge." Bruce returned his attention to Jack and his two partners. "You, at this point, have to being doing better than you appear to be if you plan to buy out Wayne Enterprises. Even if you're hoping we'll divide it up."

Jack said nothing, rather held his ground, waiting to hear something that would make him better believe this offer. He hardly knew Bruce Wayne, other than gossip, which ranged to the obsolete and absurd. Though, the few business types that Jack and his brother had come across, all seemed to share the same respect for the man. They had said he was far too generous, worked harder than anyone in his company, and was about as honest as the Bible.

"I understand if you want to keep that information to yourself." Though Bruce couldn't understand why that would be. "But let me just confirm, for my friends here. You have roots in Star City, Metropolis, New York, Tokyo, Amsterdam, and hundreds of other locations."

"So do you."

Bruce nodded. "Yes, but they're just branches, all under the same name and guise."

"People trust your company name." Ronny interrupted.

"Which is why you would benefit as well. Listen, I like the idea of keeping things local, I always have. I respect that you do your best to keep work where you pick it up, and hire the people who were there originally. You first do your best to rebuild it, even keep the same name, just weed out the problems."

"We're business managers, Mr. Wayne. We aren't out to ruin people. We're simply very successful at fixing problems and putting people at the top who we know will make things work. Sometimes it doesn't, but usually it does. We're not in it for short term, if that's what you're saying." Jack stated, forking some of his salmon and dipping it in his cup of sauce. "Like you're telling your friends here, it does pay off better in the long run, if you can fix something and get it running again, rather than just sell it off to the scrap yard for whatever someone will pay."

Donald was looking at his brother, quietly thinking, not even aware of the plate of food growing cool before him.

"The problem with this whole thing, sad to say, is that we have never had any relations in the past. How can I be sure that you're going to reassess your troops, and actually make things start working? It seems like you have a lot of disagreement within." Jack glanced over at Ted, offering a smile.

"You have my word." Bruce was about as solemn as he could be. "I'll be able to convince them to reroute. I trust my board members to do what is best for Gotham City and her people. I know they'll do what's right."

The rest of the lunch only lasted, at most, twenty minutes. It was then that Ted and the other members of Wayne Enterprises, save Bruce Wayne, took their leave, saying the really had to get back to work. Once they were gone, the tense situation seemed to lighten significantly.

"Investors, huh?" Ronny lifted his glass in the air. "You can't do it without out them, but by God, I wish we didn't need them!"

Bruce laughed, nodding in agreement. "I'm glad you understand."

"Eh, there are the good and the bad, just the way of things."

"They'll come around, I know that. I still haven't pulled out the big guns on them." Bruce pushed back in his chair a little, not quite relaxing, but no longer as firm as before. "I've been preoccupied as of late, and will be for a while still, matter which they're not so cold to ignore. If anything, I can always use that in my defense, make them swing to the other side."

"So, kid, I gotta ask -." Ronny leaned forward a bit, motioning towards Dick, who was still struggling with whatever the hell he had just eaten. It had left a crude after-taste, and he was still hungry. "Was that whole spiel about college real, or were you just trying to soften everyone up, especially ol' Teddy?"

Dick's eyes widened slightly, surprised to be questioned about honesty. "Yes sir, it was the truth." He paused for a moment. "I actually thought I was being dragged to some kind of intervention."

This created an eruption of laughter from the three, and a smile from Bruce that was more polite than real.

"Yes, well, it was a nice opener." Jack said, once the noise died down. "Business isn't all that bad, so long as you do it right. We need some more good guys, like your father, out there with us."

To this Bruce only inclined his head. "Well, Jack, Ronny, and Donald - it was a pleasure meeting you. I do hope you'll take me up on my offer, and come back some weekend, in the very near future, so we can actually sign the papers and figure things out. I should have my group ready by the end of the month. That I assure you." He stood up, followed naturally by Dick, who figured they were leaving (thank goodness).

"It sounds like a plan. Either way, we got some nice conversation and a wonderful meal out of the whole thing. Not to mention, a chance to finally meet you. It's an honor." Jack stood up, followed by his partners, and they all shook hands with Bruce and Dick.

As Ronny grasped Dick's hand he gave it a firm squeeze, followed by a wink. "Just remember, stay in school, and you'll be alright. You seem like a smart kid. I'm pretty good at reading people, and from what I can tell, you're gold. I don't think you could tell a lie that anyone would believe. That's a good curse to have."

Dick wasn't sure to make of that, but smiled back nonetheless. "I don't know much about reading people, but I think you're 'ok' too." He glanced over at Jack. "Mr. Jack West is the leader. Mr. Donald West has the brains, but you ... I think you have the heart. You make a good team."

Ronny burst out laughing and turned to Bruce. "You've got quite the kid here, quite the kid! If he ever does get into business, he'll either rule the World, or end up broke because he's too busy doing good."

"Thanks for that." Dick waited till they were at least halfway to the car, away from the restaurant, to speak. He pulled his hood up, and then gripped his backpack straps firmly, quickening his pace to gain some distance from his guardian.

Bruce watched him walking away and paid it little mind. He smiled to himself, a bit too pleased with the way things went. He really liked West and Gill Co. and hoped they'd end up working together. It was rare to meet good people, people that you just knew you could work with and grow in business with. If he was fair to them, they'd be the same to him. There was no doubt in his mind.

Plus, he also felt that Dick got a much needed taste what things were really like at Wayne Enterprises. Ronny was right, in what he said, about the Romanian teenager. Dick was a rare soul - something he had taken from his parents. He was honest, fair, loyal, and had kindness that went to the sky and then some. The kid didn't know how to not make friends. Every person, no matter how they looked, talked, or acted, was kept on equal grounds to the boy. He was a born leader, if he would simply apply himself.

'Whoa, there Wayne, don't get too proud. After all, he's not your kid. You didn't make him into the young man he's become. It was all Mary and John. You know it, he knows it, and everyone should know it.'

After all, he only had to look at Jason and Timothy. All three of the boys took after their birth parents in so many ways. Jason clearly had come from a rough childhood, Dick clearly had been loved to the extreme by parents who worked hard to make an honest living, and Tim was obviously the heir to money. Who they were, the good they did, it was just in their blood.

"The food wasn't even good. I don't know what the hell I ate!" Dick had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, slouched a bit, dragging his feet in a way that would probably make Alfred keel over. Despite the obvious disagreement on methods, Dick kept his tone light and teasing. He wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but he wasn't going to be completely negative about it. "You're lucky I'm not Jays. I would have flipped you all off, said 'adios, mother-fuckers,' and then started hitch-hiking home."

They came to the car, and Bruce dug out his keys, going to unlock it. "I am aware." They climbed in, buckled up, and started the trek back home, to which Dick quickly said that he deserved a reward for his efforts. So, after a quick pit stop at Berkies for a milk shake, they were back on their way.

Bruce checked his rearview, preparing to turn off of Aparo Expressway and cross Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, over Gotham River, and into the more spacious area where Wayne Manor rested, just west of Bristol.

"I don't think I've been to Sheldon Park in a century." Dick said, almost out of no-where. He had caught glimpse of the sign in passing. "That's a long time, you know."

"I think you're confusing terminology."

"I was being clever."

"Being obviously mistaken is being clever?"

"Being humorous is being clever."

"So, being obviously wrong is humorous?"

Dick rolled his eyes and returned to looking out the window. "You know what sucks? That Barbara is on one side of Gotham, and we're waa-aay on the opposite side. I still have no idea why your family wanted a house isolated from all things social. I mean, hell, it takes half an hour just to get home from the Upper East Side, not to mention the forty minutes we've already been sitting here, wasting away."

There was no reply from the driver, rather, continued concentration on the simple task at hand. A clean exit onto the ramp, and then the journey across the bridge began. It was nearing two now, and the sun was still high, beating down on the water below, making it look somewhat less polluted with the mirage of sparkles glittered across its front.

They'd be home shortly.

To Be Continued...

**Thanks for all the reviews and kind words. I know it's been forever, but I still am trying to keep it up. Call me lazy.