It's official: this fic will now update annually so I can keep presenting installments to my mom's writer's group (we have a spring barbecue where we share readings and this has been my contribution for the past several years). Also, as of this chapter, I think I can officially say that Reverend Fox is my favorite character. Seriously, he's just so much fun to write. Everyone except Jack is mine, even Bruce Wayne (because he's not THAT Bruce Wayne). Well, I've kept you waiting long enough! Enjoy the fic.

As Jack regained slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he became aware of was movement. He himself wasn't moving, but he was on, or in, something that was. He tried to further gather his thoughts.

Pain…in the head…hit…break…

…angry…father…mum…Bruce…snogging…what…why would they…

…seat…sitting…moving…car…ambulance? No noise…

…Hello? I'm here…must let them know…I'm here…

Jack attempted to speak which, in his dazed state, came out as a low incoherent noise. More like a glorified mumble than the word "mum."

"Jack? Oh, Jack, thank goodness…Bartholomew, he's coming to!"

"Excellent. We'll be there in just a few minutes, Pauline."

Bartholomew? Hearing his chauffeur's name and voice (and why was he addressing his mother by her first name?) plus the aforementioned movement made things finally click in Jack's mind. He was indeed in the family car with his mother and they were being driven somewhere in a hurry. Jack felt slightly sticky around his face and hair, mostly likely the remnants of whatever alcoholic beverage was in that bottle which Earnest had brought crashing down upon his head…how long ago? Minutes? Hours? But time was not the issue at hand.

"Mum, where are we going?" he asked. Pauline, her arm wrapped protectively around her son, was looking more distraught and serious than Jack had ever seen her. She furrowed her eyebrows in a distinctly mother-with-a-made-up-mind way and turned her head to look him straight in the face.

"Jack, listen to me," she said, the urgency in her tone coming out quite clearly "We can't go back to the house. Your father's beaten you countless times in the past, but never ever in front of guests before. We couldn't stay there, not after that."

"We're going to pay my brother a visit over at the church," said Bartholomew. "He's a man of God. He'll know what to do. Also we can lay low there until you two can figure out what you're going to do next. Leave, call out the old blighter, whatever works. Oh, and I apologize for speaking so crassly now. Your mother said that this was no time for formalities." Jack was still trying to process everything.

"What happened?" he said. "I remember getting hit by a glass bottle from dad and then…"

"…You fell to the floor and your father tried to reach for another bottle. Bruce jumped in and tried to restrain him, since he's never believed in beating boys, and a brawl broke out between them. Under the cover of all the chaos, I took you out of the parlor and called immediately for Bartholomew to get the car…"

"…We're here!" Bartholomew brought the car to a halt and leapt out of the front seat, rushing back to get his passengers' door. The three of them made their way around to the back of the church where Reverend Fox made his small, modest residence. Bartholomew rapped at the door. "Big Barty! It's your dear baby brother! I've brought a couple of stray lambs in desperate need of a shepherd." Had the situation been less serious, Jack would have laughed. The sound of shuffling footsteps (possibly irritated, possibly just quick, there was no good way to tell) made their way from the depths of the interior towards the door. It opened to reveal an indignant-looking Reverend Bartimeus Fox, robed in his evening prayer gown, and about to cut himself off mid-sentence.

"For Heaven's sake, Bartholomew, kindly do not address me as such in front of my charges…oh. Jack, Mrs. Merridew, whatever brings you here at this time of night?"

"We're terribly sorry for intruding, Reverend, but we needed somewhere to go," said Pauline. "Earnest has gotten…worse." Reverend Fox's face went from priestly inquiry to fatherly concern in a second. He opened the door wider.

"Come in, all of you," he said, ushering them inside. "Tell me everything."

Jack had been in Reverend Fox's office many times before, but never in his actual living quarters. The clergyman led a simple life, walls unadorned except for a portrait of Christ and a clock. The furnishings consisted of only a bed, a dresser and a chair, all of which were accordingly non-elaborate. The setting would have seemed lonely and dreary had it not been for the lamplight, which carried a mysterious intrinsic calming warmth that filled the room. Reverend Fox gestured to the bed where Jack and Pauline sat down. Bartholomew moved off to dig around for a cold compress while his brother pulled up his chair and prepared to listen intently. Pauline relayed the events of the evening. Reverend Fox knitted his brow. Bartholomew returned with the compress as they were finishing and handed it to Jack who held it to the sore spot on his scalp.

"Most troubling," said Reverend Fox. "But I still don't understand why. It's perfectly natural for a father to want to raise his son with a firm hand but…attacking him in a drunken rage in front of dinner guests? I simply don't…"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Jack blurted out. "You've just answered your own question, Reverend! He's a drunken taskmaster who always has to get what he wants! He's just like that! I'm sorry, but I don't know if I can accomplish that 'mission' of yours." There was silence except for Jack trying to catch his breath after his outburst. He wasn't sure if he'd meant to explode quite like that, but the situation seemed to call for it. All eyes were on him, and finally he muttered "…sorry," again.

Then something clicked. Something was missing.

"Wait a moment," he said, before turning to Pauline. "Mum, you forgot to mention to Reverend Fox that dad tried to attack you because you were snogging Mr. Wayne." Another significant silence. Reverend Fox's hands seem to have decided they were holding an invisible teacup and saucer solely to be dropped at an instance like this. Non-existent china shattered on the floor.

"MRS. MERRIDEW!" he gasped loudly, eyes the size of the aforementioned imaginary saucer. "You mean to say you've been having an extramarital affair outside of your marriage?" Pauline looked still, but turmoil raged beneath the surface, visible through her eyes.

"One kiss between old friends does not count as an affair," she said. "Now, were we having…relations…"

"You're having RELATIONS?"

"NO! Reverend, if you would please let me explain!" Pauline heaved a deep shuddering sigh that seemed to be echoing the weight of the world that sagged on her shoulders, and had been for some time. She took another moment to collect herself, before saying "Jack…there's something I've never told you about your father…a lot of things really. Reverend, perhaps this will answer your questions about my husband's particularly brutal behavior." She took another deep breath and began her story:

"When Earnest, Bruce, and I were at university together, Earnest and I were dating. He seemed like such a strong young man, one who would go out of his way to protect a woman. In those war times, a girl needed to feel secure. But Bruce was his best friend, and he was so much more naturally kind. Earnest's…well, earnestness came from his code of proper bearings as a respectable young gentleman. Bruce's came from the heart. I often wondered whether I should become betrothed to him and not Earnest. One night in our final year…oh we both must've had a little too much to drink…Bruce confessed that he loved me most dearly and…that was the night that Jack was conceived."

"You engaged in…PRE-MARITAL INTERCOURSE?"

Jack barely even heard Reverend Fox's cry of absurdity over the explosions in his own head. Not from the throbbing pain in his skull, but from his mind. Everything was beginning to fall into place. But why was it still so hard to believe when it made so much sense? Perhaps because it wasn't every day that one learns that one's heritage is a lie. After a fierce but shaken "Kindly let me finish," Pauline went on…

"Naturally I couldn't tell Earnest what had happened, so when I said I was pregnant he naturally assumed it was his. But somewhere along the line he must have at least suspected the truth. He and Bruce began falling out in the later months and after we got married he started to become the wolf in sheep's clothing we know him as today. He still lives near Bruce so he can keep as close an eye as he can on him, trying to catch him in the act making motions towards me. He never speaks a word of it, but he drinks himself blind and despises me and Jack because, deep down, he knows that Jack is not his son."

Out of all the questions that possibly could've been asked at this momentous juncture, and of all the people to ask it, Bartholomew chimed in with "And do you still love Bruce?" Somewhere off in the dark of the night, maybe many miles away, a pin dropped.

"Yes. Absolutely."