Chapter Text
It was cold in the alley; then again, everything in Crime Alley was cold, but this winter in Gotham City. It was the worst in over twenty years. The teenager sitting against the old movie theater wall felt every bone-chilling wind gust. His sizeable black dog moved closer to his master as the wind blew. As children and their parents walked pasted the alley laughing and smiling, talking about the upcoming Christmas Day, a wave of sadness overcame the teenager. With his eyes closed, he still could see the death of his parents. So, many years ago, the leading cause of sending him to the streets.
The streets of Gotham are no place for a child, but as a child who had to survive on these streets, this young man knew how to survive. A noise caused the dog’s ears to stand up as he left his master’s side to check out the strange sound. The boy heard the sound of a car door closing and then heavy footsteps. The teenager pulled his cold, tired body off the icy, grim alleyway.
Another set of footsteps joined those of the first ones, and angry voices soon followed. The voices left as quickly as they started. “What is it, boy?” the teen asked his friend. The dog did not turn to look at his master but at the older man in the alley. The old man looked up from what he was doing, laying two white roses on the cold ground. He saw the young man standing at the back of the alleyway. The boy looked frozen and hungry.
The dog growled and took off. “No!” The boy’s hand out to stop the animal from running away. The dog went around the old man and after the clown behind him. Chasing the clown away, the dog came back to his master. They both could hear the shouts of the clown as the dog took a bite out of the clown. The boy rubbed the dog’s ears. The young man started to leave the alley, but the older man’s voice stopped him.
“Where are you going?” The kid shrugged, not saying anything. The dog brushed his head against the teen’s leg. “Where are your parents?”
Great, the old man thought he was a runaway. He brushed some long dirty hair from his face before he answered. “They’re dead.” That seemed to have struck something inside the old man.
There was a pause before either one spoke again.
“You must be hungry. I owe you for what your dog did.” The kid raised an eyebrow. Dinner did sound good. The kid looked the old man over near. If anything, he could take this old guy; he had a cane and everything. What the hell? A free meal was better than freezing his ass off any day.
“Alright,” he took a step towards the man, the dog right behind him. “But he comes with me.” The old guy agreed. When he got closer, he held up his hand. “I need a name first, kid.”
The kid nodded. “Terry. My name is Terry.”
“Alright, Terry, I’m Bruce.” Bruce held out his hand for the kid to shake. Even with the gloves on, Terry still could feel the heat from the man’s hand. “Let’s get you something to eat, kid.”
---
With the driver gone, the kid felt out of place in the large house. The dog had found a place to sit and get warm. The old man, no Bruce, had started a fire for him after making him eat whatever the hell that was and told him to sit in the chair in front of the fire, but he wouldn’t do it. He was filthy; what he was sitting in that alley shouldn’t bring into a home, not even a house that looked like a museum.
“Take that coat off.” The old man's voice broke through the silence of the house.
He had so many layers on; he had to keep warm. But in the house, with the heat and the fire going, he would start to overheat soon. He pulled the coat off, putting it on the back of a chair. He began to pull the beaten-up fingerless gloves off as well. With those gone, he pulled one of the long sleeve shirts off. He felt a little better. Terry could finally feel his toes again; his holey boots didn’t do much good in the ice and snow out on the streets.
Terry sat where Bruce told him to rub his hands together. Bruce threw a blanket around the kid’s shoulder before heading towards the kitchen without saying another word. The man came back with a mug of something hot for the boy. Tucked between his shoulder was a phone; he was trying to hold it to his ear while walking with his cane. “Yes, I understand that. Can you just get down here? I’ll pay you to double.”
Terry frowned, taking the mug from the man before he walked away, talking to whoever it was. Terry took a drink from the mug, and it was tea. The nuns at the one church gave out tea, and one of the women always made sure to give him extra when he came in. He hadn’t been there in a while. Sister Grace would be worried. Terry made a mental note to head over there when he got a chance. His dog came over to him, lying at his feet.
“I still need a name for you, big guy.” Terry rubbed his ears. Terry put the mug on the side table as the dog climbed into the chair.
Bruce came back into the room. “I have a doctor coming to take a look at you.” Terry made a face.
Bruce glared. “Look, kid, you’re a minor, and as you said, your parents are gone. Someone has to take care of you. So I'll make you a deal and stay here for a few days.”
The boy made a face again.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” Terry shook his head. “Good. But, you’re still staying here.”
There was no deal; Terry knew there never would be. With that, the old man walked out of the room again.
---
When the old man returned, the dog and teenager had fallen asleep. They are both used to keeping each other warm at night. The dog with no name looked up at Bruce and the two new people, both women. “Terry?” The dog yawned as Bruce’s hand came to give Terry a quick shake. The kid’s eyes snapped open. “Terry, this is Barbara Gordon and Doctor Sandra Thompkins. Just talked to these ladies for a bit, then I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
The kid nodded. The dog climbed off of him, lying in front of the fire.
The woman with the glasses, Barbara Gordon, smiled at him.
“Terry, can you tell me how old you are?” The doctor asked him to sit up straight so she could start her exam.
“I’m fifteen.”
Doctor Thompkins listened to his heart. “How long have you lived on the streets, Terry?”
Gordon was taking notes.
Terry was starting to get nervous. “…Since I was eight.”
The doctor patted his shoulder lightly. Gordon nodded at his answer. “What happened to your parents, honey?”
Terry wondered if they felt sorry for him or thought his parents were druggies. “They were murdered when we were leaving a movie theater.”
All the adults stopped what they were doing.
“A movie theater,” Bruce asked.
Terry nodded. “We were seeing The Grey Ghost Strikes.”
Bruce swallowed hard.
“I wanted to see it for a while, so Dad came home from work and picked Mom and me up for a movie night.” He was trying to hide the tears in his eyes.
Barbara took his hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Terry.” She patted his hand softly.
The doctor took over and checked the boy out more as Barbara and Bruce stepped aside to have a quick talk.
“I think I have an idea of who he is,” Barbara crossing her arms over her chest. “There was a case seven years ago where a couple was gunned down in a parking lot across the street from a theater. The couple’s eight-year-old son was never found. A few people thought the killer had taken the child. But, Bruce, you may have found him.”
They both turned to watch the doctor look over the fifteen-year-old.
---
The doctor left the house with orders to bring the teenager tomorrow morning. It seemed the young man had some crackling in his lungs, and she even looked over the dog for the teenager. Barbara hung around to talk to Terry for a little longer.
She was trying to get some more information about his parents out of him. Barbara thought the teenager would be a bit hazy about some information from all those nights ago. The young man gave her as many details as he could from that night.
With Barbara finally gone around ten, Bruce showed the boy where he would be sleeping and staying. The dog followed behind the teenager. “Does he have a name?” Bruce asked as the dog looked up at him.
“Not yet. He found me. I think someone used him as a fighting dog, and he doesn’t like other dogs.” Terry patted his head.
---
When Bruce checked on the teenager the following day, he found the boy sleeping on the floor with the dog. Bruce frowned; it looked like the boy wasn’t used to sleeping in a bed. “Hey, Terry?” Bruce turned on the light.
There was a grumble as the kid sat up. Terry ran a hand over his messy hair. “What time is it,” the kid asked.
“Time for you to get up and shower. We’re heading to the doctor soon.” Bruce put some clothes on the bed. Terry was small compared to most boys his age. Some of Tim and Dick’s old clothes would have to do for now. “You have a bathroom. While you’re in the shower, I’ll start breakfast.”
Terry was sure whatever the old man could whip up was better than not eating at all. Terry picked himself off the bedroom floor as Bruce let himself out of the room. A shower was a simple thing to others but a luxury to him. It took him longer to figure out how to work the shower than it did for him to take a shower.
The dog followed behind him as he came downstairs to the kitchen. Bruce was standing there with a few glasses and bowls on the island. Terry sat down on the island with the dog sitting at his feet. Bruce pushed one of the bowls in front of him with a glass of orange juice.
“After you eat, we’ll head out to the doctor.”
The teenager ate from the bowl but avoided the glass of juice. “Can I ask you something?” Terry asked as he swallowed the food.
The old man nodded, drinking from his coffee mug.
“Why? Why do you care?”
Bruce put the cup down on the island. “Because I understand what it’s like to be that kid who had lost everything he cared about.”
Terry ate the rest of his breakfast without saying much. Bruce said nothing about the still full glass of orange juice.
“Do you think I could borrow a belt?” Terry stood up; the pants that Bruce brought him, which at one point were Tim’s, hung low on his hips.
---
Now with a belt that Bruce was sure was his when he was a teenager, they were off to the doctor. Bruce could see the nervousness in the teen.
“You seemed to like her last night.”
Terry nodded. He didn’t like that they had to leave his dog back at the house, and the dog didn’t seem happy either. The mutt howled as his master left the house.
The office of Doctor Sandra Thompkins was neat and welcoming, which Bruce found a bit comforting.
Sandra smiled at them as they stepped into her office, “Hello, you two.” Terry gave her a small wave.
“Sandra.” She did have her great-aunt’s smile. For some odd reason Bruce wasn’t sure of; Terry stepped closer to the older man.
“It’s alright, Terry. I just want to do some blood tests and get some x-rays.”
The boy bit his lip but nodded.
---
While waiting for Terry to finish up with the x-rays, Bruce made a phone call to Barbara.
“I was right, Bruce.” He didn’t even get a hello. “Terrence Lucas McGinnis went missing seven years ago after the death of his parents, Warren and Mary McGinnis. They were killed as the family left the Creed Movie Theater, and the neighbor reported him missing two days later. The kid has no other family. Father’s parents died shortly before the murders, and the mother’s father died before Terry was born; her mother and her brother were killed in a car accident when Mary McGinnis was a teenager.”
Bruce shook his head. This poor kid couldn’t get a break. Bruce rubbed his forehead. “I took the liberty of sending foster papers to your lawyer’s office.”
Bruce nodded even with Barbara was unable to see him. “Thank you, Barbara.”
She must have read his mind. “I called Tim. I know you guys haven’t talked in a while, but Tim has a teenage boy about Terry’s age. He’s going to bring some clothes by the manor for you.” There was a soft chuckle on her end of the phone. “Poor kid is wearing clothes that are older than he is.” She really could read his mind.
---
Bruce went into the exam room after getting off the phone with Barbara.
The teenager was sitting on the table, missing his shirt; Sandra was listening to the kid’s lungs again. “Ah, Bruce, I have good news and bad news.” Terry’s face was red. “Good news is he’s in pretty good shape for a kid who has lived for seven years on the streets. Bad news sounds like he has early onset tuberculosis.”
The doctor handed the boy his shirt back. “That’s not uncommon with the homeless. I also got the files from Terry’s doctor from his parents were alive. He’s behind in his booster shots, and I’m going to start him on an antibiotic that he needs to take twice a day and some cough medicine. Once he’s done with the antibiotic, we’ll start catching him up with his boosters.”
Bruce watched Terry rubbing his arm where they drew blood.
Sandra handed Bruce information and Terry’s prescriptions telling him to call her if the boy started coughing up bloody sputum.
“Come on, kiddo.” Terry hopped off the table.
“Keep him wrapped up in a coat, Bruce.” Sandra shot him a glare. She left the room, leaving them there alone.
“You need a haircut, kid.”
Terry pushed some of his hair away from his face. “I like it.”
---
The lawyer was waiting for them when they returned from the doctor. “Mister Wayne,” the middle age man said. “I was going to go into the house, but there’s a rather large dog in there.”
Terry blushed, looking away.
“That would be Terry’s dog. He’s rather unsure of people he doesn’t know, Jeremy.” At that moment, Bruce wasn’t sure if he was still talking about the dog or the teenager who was all but hiding behind him.
Jeremy Stillson chuckled; he was the youngest of the Stillson lawyers who worked for Wayne Enterprises. “Nice to meet you, Terry; call me Jeremy.” The teenager nodded.
“Come on in, Jeremy. We’ll get started on the paperwork.” Bruce opened the door the dog ran out to his master.
“Paperwork?” Terry rubbed the dog’s ears.
“Bruce is filling to be your foster parent.”
The teenager turned a deep shade of red and made a slight noise at the back of his throat.
“If that’s what you want, Terry,” Bruce ignored the lawyer focusing on the young man in front of him.
The dog leaned into Terry, his black wet nose pressing into the boy’s hand. “Well, it’s either you file as my foster parent, or I get sent to a group home or something.” The boy was more thoughtful than any of them gave him credit. The kid nodded. “I think I’d rather stay here, Bruce.”
Bruce nodded. “Alright, then that’s what we’ll do.”
---
They were back in the kitchen with the lawyer gone with signed papers in hand. Bruce threw the dog a piece of bread. “He needs a name,” the old man commented.
Terry sat on a kitchen island with his chin resting on his folded arms, watching the old man and the dog. “I haven’t found something that fits him.”
The dog seemed to have loved this treat sitting at Bruce’s feet, waiting for more. Bruce tossed him another piece of bread; the dog would hate them tomorrow as it was his turn to head to the doctor.
“I think I have a good name for him if you want to hear it.” The dog’s tail thumped against the hardwood floor. Terry shrugged,
“Anything is better than ‘Hey you, Mutt.’” The dog turned to look at the teenager at the comment. “What you thinking?”
“Had an old friend called Ace; she had a rough childhood, a bit like yours. Wonderful girl.” The dog looked back at the man with the food.
“What happened to her?” Terry blew at his hair to get it out of his eyes.
“Her life was cut short but some power-hungry people who wanted to play God.”
“Ace,” Terry said. “Ace,” he called a little louder.
The dog looked at him before looking back at Bruce.
“We’ll work on it, buddy. I like it. It suits him, I think someone beat him, and he doesn’t like when people shout.”
Bruce could understand that. “Well, he doesn’t have to worry about that again.” Bruce rubbed the dog’s ears.
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