Wanted

Bruce couldn't believe it, but it was there right on the TV. Jack and Cathie Drake had been murdered in their home in the middle of the night. Jack was the founder of Drake Industries, a prominent company in Gotham and around the world. Bruce had talked to the couple only last night at a dinner party.

The Drakes' were the closest thing Bruce had to neighbors. They had moved to Gotham four years before, under what circumstance only a few knew. Wayne Manor was on the outskirts of Gotham and few people lived out there. The Drake Mansion was one of the few homes in their area, mostly because it was cheaper to live in other parts of the city.

Bruce wondered if the couple had any family. They had always seemed a little off to him, but he wasn't one to judge. He ran around Gotham's underworld at all hours of the night, dressed like a giant bat.

The Drakes had been circus performers, a fact they hadn't wanted anyone to know. Dick had been excited to hear the news at first. He had thought he had found some of his own people in the heartless and fast paced world that was the City of Crime. The opposite had been the truth however. They had been horrified to learn that anyone knew of their past and wanted the whole thing hushed up.

Bruce thought of the look on Dick's face when Cathie had asked him, not so nicely, to not talk about the circus or anything pertaining to the subject. Bruce couldn't help being mad at the woman. No one talked to his son like that.

It didn't matter much whether Bruce liked them or not because the Drakes were always going on some trip. It could be a business meeting in Japan or a two week vacation cruise off the coast of Brazil. They were gone and their large house would stand empty. That was fine with Bruce. He couldn't have nosey neighbors poking around, asking what he did with his spare time and why he, Dick and Jason were more often than not bruised and a little beaten up.

Dick and Jason came into the kitchen just then and took their places at the breakfast table. They had just celebrated Jason first birthday at the Manor a week before. He was twelve now and full of fire. He seemed to think he knew everything and it was his way or the highway, but that was Bruce's place, so Jason was often overruled. Bruce understood how Jason felt. When he had been that age he and Alfred butted heads on a regular basis. They still did, but they had found common ground. Bruce was sure he could find that ground with Jason and his stubbornness.

Dick was his usual cheerful self. Bruce couldn't understand how the thirteen year old could always be so happy, but that cheerfulness brought so much joy into a house that would otherwise have been a dark place. Bruce doubt he would have taken Jason in if he hadn't taken Dick in. The acrobat had taught him patience, which he needed to learn before he could take on Jason's wild spirit.

Dick glanced at the TV on the counter and his face fell. "I wonder why they were killed," he said thoughtfully.

"I bet it was something illegal," Jason said shortly. He wasn't being cold hearted. In Gotham when someone got killed most people assumed that it was because of a bad business choice. Jason was a Gotham Amite to the bone. He thought like one which was usually more cynical and less trusting.

"Could have been a robbery," Dick suggested.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Bruce went to answer it. Alfred wouldn't hear of Bruce answering the door. It was his job, but the butler was visiting family in England and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Bruce didn't know how the three of them got along without Alfred.

Bruce opened the door and found Commissioner Jim Gordon standing in the doorway. He was surprised, he was sure Gordon would be down the road at the crime scene for hours still.

"Hello, Jim. What can I do for you?" Bruce said. He often wondered if Gordon saw through his little show. The idea was a little terrifying. The man would be required to take him and his sons in to custody if he never found out, that is if he didn't already know who the Knight of Gotham was.

"Hello, Bruce," the Commissioner said. His voice was laced with exhaustion and his eyes were red from lack of sleep. Being the police commissioner in a city like Gotham was no small job and it took its toll. "You hear about the Drakes?"

Bruce nodded and stepped aside to let the man in. "Saw it on the news." A thought came to Bruce. He was Batman, he had thought the safest place would be close to Wayne Manor, yet his neighbors had been killed. He would have done anything to protect the Drakes, if he had known that they were in danger. Had they deaths been painful? Could he have done something? Bruce told himself to stop. There was nothing he could have done, so he shouldn't beat himself over what he hadn't been able to do. That was something he had learned his first year as Batman. It was best just to think about the lives he had saved, like Dick and Jason for example.

"Were you aware that the Drakes had a son?" Gordon asked shortly.

Bruce was again surprised. Twice in one morning, that had to be some kind of record. "No I didn't." He had been to their house more than once. There was no pictures of a kid, no toys, no loving talk from the Drakes about how proud they were of their child and most importantly no child. What kind of detective was he if he didn't even know that his neighbors had a son? "Was he killed as well?" The image of three lifeless bodies came unbidden into his mind. The guilt that he had been trying to ignore came back double to what it had been the first time.

"That's the problem, we can't find him," the Commissioner said shortly. A deep frown was cut into his face. He pushed his thick, black glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "The only reason we even know they were killed was because today is the day the maid comes to clean."

Bruce couldn't help, but wonder why he was being told this. He wasn't a cop and didn't have any business hearing this. It was after all an open case. "Do you think whoever killed the Drakes took their son?" he asked. He hoped their son was at a friend's house or visit family. There was rather a glaring question remaining. How had Bruce not seen a kid running around? He knew from personal expectance that kids weren't quiet and didn't stay in the house all day or at least his boys didn't.

"I don't know," Gordon said sadly. He shook his head as if he was shaking off a fog. He really needed to take a break. He couldn't think clearly without at least a few hours of sleep. "I'm sorry. You're probably wondering what this has to do with you."

Bruce nodded. "That would be helpful. Why don't we get some coffee while we talk?" he suggested.

The Commissioner stifled a yawn. "That sounds good."

The two men when to the kitchen. Dick and Jason were eating breakfast and talking in between bites. Alfred had thoroughly broken them of their habit of talking with their mouths full. He couldn't stand bad manners. When someone did something he thought was rude his right eyebrow would shot up and remain that way until the unfortunate offender wilted in fear under the butler's gaze.

"Hello, Commissioner," Dick said politely.

"Hi," Jason said from his oatmeal bowl.

"Good morning, boys," Jim said taking a set. He had known both boys for years. Dick, he'd meet that terrible night at the circus and Jason had gotten picked up by one of his officer for breaking and entering, not to mention resisting arrested. That was right before Bruce had found the boy in the same alley where he'd lost his parents fifteen years prier.

Jim took a drink of the coffee Bruce had set in front of him. "Thanks. I'm going to get right to the point. The Drakes' lawyer got a hold of me this morning, to tell me that upon the couples' death he was to open their will. He found that the Drakes left everything to you on the condition you take care of their son, Timothy. They didn't have any family, so.…," the Commissioner let the sentence hang.

Bruce was shocked. People, he hardly knew and who hardly knew him were just leaving their son, who no one could find, in his care. Were they out of their minds? Well, he couldn't ask them so, first things first, find Timothy. Hopefully he was alive. Bruce would get Lucius Fox to take care of the Drake Estate and everything that came with it.

Bruce would get over his surprise, no shock was a better description of how he felt, later. Now he had a whole mess to deal with. "Does anyone have any idea who might have killed the Drakes? Have you talked to the maid? When was the last time she saw Timothy?"

Gordon nodded. "She said he was at home two week ago. She heard him and his parents fighting. Afterwards, she heard Mrs. Drake say something about being sick of his circus ideas, circus mouth and circus blood. We had the maid go through the house to see if anything was missing. She said the only things gone were Timothy's suitcase and some of his clothes. She also told us that in the four years she's worked there she has seen the kid maybe three times. She has no idea where he goes, but he's almost never at home. Not during Christmas, in the summer or around his birthday," Jim said, shaking his head. "I hope you won't mind coming over to the Drake's? There is some things we'll need you for."

"Of course not," Bruce answered. "Let me get my coat." He got up and left to get his coat. He wondered why Timothy was never at home. Sure, he had 'friends' who sent their kids away, to family, or boarding school, but they would bring their kids home sometimes or talk about them. Why hadn't the Drakes? Where they so caught up in their own lives they had forgotten to make time for what should have been the most important life to them? There was no greater gift than the love of a child. To watch them grow and to see the person they were becoming was amazing. Sometimes the thought of his sons was the only thing that gave him the strength to fight hard enough to come back from Crime Alley in one piece. How could any parent not want to be part of their children's' lives was something Bruce would never understand.

wantedwantedwanted

A few hours later Bruce and the Commissioner were still trying to find some clue that would tell them were Timothy might be. Bruce had been given a pair of rubber gloves when they had started looking though the Drakes' papers. The last thing the police needed was some naive CEO destroying evidence.

"Jim, I think I found something," Bruce said from where he was sitting at Jack's desk. There were no personal items on the large piece of furniture, come to think of it there were almost no personal items anywhere in the house that Bruce had seen.

"What?" Jim asked. He was at Cathie's desk, looking at the papers that were neatly filed in one of the bottom drawers.

"Well, I know falsified documents when I see them," Bruce said and handed Jim a thick file that had fake tax returns, bank statements, and other papers of that kind in it. The Drakes were making more money than they should have been, to the tune of over two million in this year alone.

Gordon didn't look surprised in the least. He saw this kind of thing all the time, usual not in this large amounts, but still, it was nothing new. "Where was all this coming from?" he asked more to himself than Bruce. He quickly flipped through the documents. This was going to be a mess to through it all, but it would get done, by some poor detective whose lot it fell to.

"Well, this could explain why they were killed. I'll get someone on the paper trail and see where it goes," Jim said walking away with the file.

Bruce kept snooping around. In the last, bottom draw, he found a bill from High brook Boarding School. He had heard of the school, it was one of the hardest to get into, most respected prep school in New York State. It also had a reputation for its strike rules and unhackable security system. It was supposedly to keep intruders out, but it also kept the students in. If someone with money had a kid, who they didn't want around, and that had a habit of run off that was the place to send that kid.

Bruce showed the bill to Jim. "Let's hope that's where he's at," Gordon said and pulled out his phone. The number was on the bill and he dialed it. "Hello, this is Commissioner James Gordon with the Gotham police. I'm calling about one of your students, Timothy Drake."

Bruce could tell that the person on the other end of the call was very uncomfortable, when they answered. "We were just about to phone Mr. and Mrs. Drake. We don't know how this happened."

"What happened?" Jim asked.

What had happened? Bruce wondered. Had someone come to the school and taken Timothy. In which case the school wouldn't want anyone to know, it would hurt their reputations and people would find another school to send their children to.

"It's completely unprecedented and the board it not responsible. He destroyed our computer system," the unknown person whinnied.

"Who did?" Jim asked. Was it so hard just to tell him what was going on? Sometime he felt sure people plotted to make his job harder than it already was.

"Timothy Drake, of course. He trashed our computers, spray painted the word 'Prison' on the walls and disappeared from here a week after his parents sent him back," the voice explained. "We didn't inform the Drakes, because we thought he'd return by now."

Sure they did, and the Riddler was going to stop asking riddles. Anyone with half a brain could see the school was trying to cover the whole thing up. They made that clear by not calling the Drakes and telling them their son had runaway the moment it happened. Bruce was impressed with Timothy. He had seen the security system when he'd had one installed at Dick's and Jason's school. He'd thought about buying that system, but had gone with a different one. He was glad he hadn't, since a child could hacked it.

"Have you heard from him in that time?" Gordon asked.

Bruce know the answer before the person on the other end said 'no'. If he'd been in the kid's position he wouldn't have gone back either, not after stray painting the walls.

"I would like to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Drake," the voice said shortly.

"That's not possible," Jim said. "They were murdered last night."

There was a long pause. "I see. If Timothy shows up here we will inform you at once." That was a fancy way of saying. 'It's not our problem.' The person hung up as soon as was appositely possible.

"Great," Jim muttered. How was he supposed to find a kid that had been missing for a week? It didn't help that the school hadn't reported it. If the kid was smart and he clearly was he could be in another part of the country by this time.

Bruce left the office and went up a flight of stair. He walked down a long hall, opening doors as he went. He found what must be Timothy's room at the end of the hall. It was huge, like all the rooms had been so far. This room had a few things that showed it was a kid's room, not many, but a few. Bruce wondered how old Timothy was.

The clothes in the closet were for someone a little smaller than Jason, yet there were no stuffed toys in the room. There was a computer on a desk opposite to the bed. Bruce went over to it and turned it on. The screen saver was a poster for a circus. Hudson's World Traveling Circus to be exact. If Bruce was a kid, who had spent part of his life in the circus, just gotten in a fight with his parents and trashed his school, he would hightail it back to said circus.

A memory came to mind. Dick had been living at the Manor for about a year, when he and Bruce had had their first real fight. They had been shouting at each other, about what Bruce couldn't even remember. Dick had finally shouted that he was going to run away to his real home at the circus. That had scared Bruce more than he liked to admit. The fight that had been roaring ended. Bruce calmly explained to Dick that he was never allowed to run away and he wasn't allowed to say that he was going to run away. He'd watched his son closely for a month after that little episode.

Cathie had said she was sick of hearing about the circus. Maybe Timothy had said he was going back and his parents hadn't taken what he had said seriously or they just didn't care. Either way Bruce was willing to bet that's where Timothy was at. He checked the computer's search history and such enough Timothy had looked up the circus and where they were performing the week he'd run away, which was in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. If Timothy took a bus he would have been there in few days. He was most likely there now.

Some part of Bruce relaxed at knowing that. He didn't even know Timothy and yet he felt the need to take care of him. His parents clearly hadn't been doing a very good job.

Timothy probably didn't know that his parents were dead and it would be hard for him to hear the news. It was hard enough for Bruce and Dick and they hadn't been fighting with their parents at the time of their deaths, but add to that the guilt of not being on good terms. Hurt feelings that would never be resolved would most likely be a heavy burden for Timothy. Bruce had to find him.

The door opened and Jim walked in to the room.

"Find something?" he asked. He had been talking to one of his detective and hadn't noticed that Bruce had disappeared until a few minutes ago. He'd spent those few minutes trying to find Bruce in the large house.

"I think I know where Timothy is." Bruce explained what he had found.

"Well, that's out of my jurisdiction. I'll call the Williamsport police and tell them not to let the circus leave town," Jim said.

Bruce nodded. "I would appreciate that." He was going start to Pennsylvania, before whoever killed the Drakes came after their son. He hoped that didn't happen.