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He’d gotten into another fight.
Or, rather, some of the older kids had decided to use him as a punching bag again, and Dick’s English hadn’t been good enough to defend himself to the warden. Hence, solitary confinement.
He had no idea how long he’d been in there. It wasn’t his first time being isolated as punishment, and he guessed it wouldn’t be his last. So far, Dick had been thrown into solitary confinement four times in the three weeks since he’d been dropped off at the Gotham City Juvenile Detention Center. He knew the guards saw him as a problem child. He didn’t understand a lot of what was said about him, but he recognized several slurs against the Romani people. It hurt his heart to hear his people being talked about in such an ugly way.
He crawled on top of the mattress in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest as he began to weep. Everything hurt. The boys had beaten him ruthlessly. His eye was swollen almost completely shut, and the taste of blood filled his mouth whenever he moved his bottom lip. His ribs pulsed with each breath he took. The most painful part, however, was the fact that no one, not even the adults in the room, had tried to help him.
He didn’t understand why no one liked him here. He wasn't trying to be a bad child. He didn’t want to start fights. But no matter what he did, the older boys kept hurting him. It was like they couldn’t stand the sight of him. No one could.
Dick missed his Mami and Tati.
Mami always talked about what a good boy he was. About how he loved to make people smile and laugh, and that he was really good at it, too. She had even said once that he had a magical talent for making people happy.
That magic had clearly died alongside his parents. He didn’t make anybody happy here.
He sat there crying for what seemed like hours before suddenly, the door swung open.
A guard walked in, looking very annoyed. “C’mon, circus brat. You have a visitor.”
A visitor? Dick had learned that the word usually meant an adult was there to see him – mostly, his social worker. He’d only seen her twice since being put into the system, though. He certainly wasn’t expecting her today.
He scrambled out of bed and followed the guard, wiping his eyes fervently. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he’d been crying.
The man waiting for him in the visitation area was definitely not his social worker. He looked younger than Dick’s parents, yet something in his gaze was wise beyond his years. His hair was neatly combed back, and he wore a sleek, expensive-looking suit with a watch that sparkled underneath the fluorescent lights. He was obviously very important, which made Dick nervous. Was he in more trouble? Could one be expelled from a juvenile detention center? And if he were to be expelled, where would he go?
The mysterious man offered him a smile and held out his hand. “Hello, Richard. My name is Bruce Wayne.”
Dick timidly reached out and accepted the handshake, wincing at the twinge in his shoulder as he did so. The guard behind him remained quiet. “Hello.”
The man frowned, clearly disturbed at Dick’s appearance. “May I ask what happened to you, Richard? You look like you’re really hurt.”
The guard answered before Dick could even decipher what had been asked. “This one likes to pick fights with those much bigger than he is. We do our best to stop them, but the guy’s gotta learn the pecking order eventually, right?”
Whatever the guard had said clearly displeased Mr. Wayne, but he didn’t say anything back. Instead, he turned back to Dick. “Why don’t we sit down?” he offered. “I have a few things I’d like to talk to you about, if that’s all right.”
Dick’s mind raced to translate. He wished he hadn’t waited so long to start learning English – he’d only had a few months of lessons. But Mr. Wayne was motioning to the table next to them, so Dick deduced he was being told to sit down.
He slid into one of the cold, metal chairs. His heart was pounding against his chest, which did not feel good on his aching ribs. The man looked like he was trying to convey kindness, but Dick had yet to meet a nice adult in the detention center.
“Before we get started, how do you like to be called? Do you go by Richard, or is there a nickname you’d prefer I use?”
Dick recognized his name and a handful of other words from his English lessons. “My name is Dick,” he said carefully, hoping he’d answered appropriately.
Mr. Wayne nodded. “Okay, Dick. I’d like to begin by offering my sincerest condolences. I lost my parents, too, when I was just about your age. I know how devastated you must be.”
Great. He had no idea how to respond to what he’d just been told. Now what did he do?
When he didn’t answer right away, Mr. Wayne’s gaze softened. “Dick, do you speak English?”
“A little,” Dick admitted, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.
“I see,” Mr. Wayne said, turning back to the guard. “Is there an a translator onsite that’s been working with him?”
“No, Mr. Wayne,” he replied, shaking his head. “He’s doesn’t talk much, and no one knows what language he speaks. I heard he’s a gypsy, though.”
There was that word again. Tati had warned him that many people, especially outside of eastern Europe, didn’t know much about the Romani people. Many used that word without even realizing that it was hurtful. But then there were also those that looked down upon the Roma. They saw them as thieves and charlatans. They didn’t see the beauty and richness of the culture that Dick knew and loved.
Mr. Wayne did not look happy. Dick hoped he wasn’t mad about him being Romani. He’d seemed so nice…
“Dick,” he said, forming his words carefully. “I’m afraid I don’t speak Romany. Is there another language you speak better than English?”
Dick nodded. “Româna este a doua mea limbă maternă.” {Romanian is my second mother tongue.}
He had been born in southern Romania, and his parents had spoken Romany and Romanian with him equally. His Mami was full-blooded Roma, and his Tati’s family was from Bucharest. They’d met as acrobats in Haly’s Circus. Dick had grown up traveling all across Europe, learning all kinds of different languages and cultures from his circus family. He spoke fluently in Spanish, Italian, French, and Portuguese – all of which were quite easy to learn considering their similarity to Romanian. He was also proficient in German, though he was regretting not making English the higher priority. Frau Heidi (the knife thrower) had just made German sound so beautiful.
To Dick’s relief, Mr. Wayne smiled. “Pot lucra cu romana.” {I can work with Romanian.}
Hearing someone speak to him in a way he was able to fully understand caused tears to spill from Dick’s eyes. For three weeks, he’d been stuck in a foreign country all by himself knowing very little of the language and culture. It had caused him to feel isolated whether he’d been in solitary confinement or not. He had been so very lonely.
“Dick, te simți bine?” Mr. Wayne asked, looking concerned. {Dick, are you okay?}
Dick sniffled and wiped his eyes, feeling embarrassed. “Da, Domnul Wayne, îmi pare rău. Aceasta este doar prima conversație adevărată pe care am reușit să o am în câteva săptămâni.” {Yes, Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry. This is just the first true conversation I've been able to have in weeks.}
Mr. Wayne reached forward and grabbed Dick’s hand. “Te rog, spune-mi Bruce. Îmi pare foarte rău că mi-a luat atât de mult să vin să te văd. Au fost... complicații.” {Please, call me Bruce. I am very sorry it has taken me so long to come see you. There were... complications.}
Mr. Wayne – Bruce, Dick was now supposed to call him – had wanted to visit him before? Why? What would someone as important as him want with someone like Dick?
Bruce continued, “Vezi tu, Dick, am fost la circ în acea noapte. Am văzut ce sa întâmplat. Mi-am pierdut și părinții la vârsta ta. Am avut norocul să am pe cineva care să aibă grijă de mine. Ai pe cineva la care să te ajut să te întorci?” {You see, Dick, I was at the circus that night. I saw what happened. I lost my parents, too, at just your age. I was lucky enough to have someone to look after me. Do you have someone like that I could help you get back to?}
Dick thought carefully about his answer. He didn’t know anyone in his parents’ families, but surely Mr. Haly and the rest of the circus would take him in. He’d grown up with them. They were like one big family.
“Pot să mă întorc la circ?” he asked. {Could I return to the circus?}
“Îmi pare rău, Dick, dar asta nu este o opțiune,” Bruce replied, looking sympathetic. “Nu este sigur pentru tine. Circul nu vă poate oferi stabilitatea și securitatea de care aveți nevoie. Statul nu vă va permite să vă întoarceți la ei.” {I’m sorry, Dick, but I’m afraid that’s not an option. It's not safe for you there. The circus cannot provide you with the stability and security you need. The state won't allow you to return to them.}
Dick’s heart sank, more tears welling up in his eyes. “Atunci nu am pe nimeni.” {Then I have no one.}
He’d been holding on to the hope that Mr. Haley and the others would come for him. That they’d take him away from this horrible place and leave Gotham City behind for good. But those hopes were now dashed. No one was coming for him. He was going to be in this prison for who knows how long. He was completely alone in the world.
Bruce sighed. “M-am gândit că s-ar putea să fie cazul. Dick, știu că nu mă cunoști prea bine, dar dacă ești de acord, mi-ar plăcea să te muți cu mine. Ca sectia mea.” {I thought that may be the case. Dick, I know you don't know me very well, but if you are okay with it, I would like to have you move in with me. As my ward.}
Dick’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Într-adevăr?” {Really?}
“Am depus deja actele necesare,” Bruce reassured. “Sunt gata să te iau acum, dacă e în regulă cu tine.” {I've already filed the necessary paperwork. I'm ready to take you now, if that's alright with you.}
It sounded too good to be true. Did the warden not explain to Bruce what a terrible child he was? Surely the man wouldn’t want Dick if he knew the kinds of trouble he’d gotten into the past few weeks.
Seeming to have read Dick’s mind, Bruce grabbed his hand again. “Dick, nimic din ce ți s-a întâmplat în timp ce ai fost aici nu a fost vina ta. Nu ai făcut absolut nimic rău. Am vrut să te iau acasă în noaptea în care părinții tăi au murit, dar până când am aplicat pentru a fi parinte adoptiv de urgență, ai fost deja dus aici. Îmi pare foarte rău că nu te-am putut lua mai devreme. Te rog, lasă-mă să te iau departe de acest loc.” {Dick, nothing that has happened to you while you've been here has been your fault. You've done absolutely nothing wrong. I wanted to take you home the night your parents died, but by the time I'd applied to be an emergency foster parent, you'd already been taken here. I'm so very sorry I couldn't get to you sooner. Please, let me take you away from this place.}
Dick was tempted to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. Maybe the stories Mami and Tati used to tell him about guardian angels was true. Or maybe his parents were still watching over him, from wherever they were now. Either way, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. He didn’t want to be alone anymore.
“Te rog, Bruce.” {Please, Bruce.}
His new guardian offered him a huge smile. “Asta rezolvă, atunci. Să mergem acasă, Dick.” {That settles it, then. Let’s go home, Dick.}