Hello all, this is going to be another little three-shot. I've had this idea pinging around in my head for a little while now, and wanted to get it off the list while 'Of Friends and Foes' is wrapping up. To give you a little background on this, I thought it would be fun to go against DC's usual policy and pretend like linear time is a thing (what a concept!). So, since Dick first appeared as a child in 1940, this story is set in the mid-1950s, putting him at around 25 years old. It's a Dick/Babs established storyverse, also, and Dick is employed at Wayne Enterprises. For you lovers of canon, in my head this takes place sometime between the destruction of Bludhaven and Bruce's "death."

As mentioned, it will be a three-shot. The next chapter will feature plenty of our favorite bird, and chapter three will be a lot of father/son banter and light fluff. I should have the next chapter up by the end of this coming weekend, and possibly the completion as well. Happy reading!

Emily Darnell's first day as an executive secretary at Wayne Enterprises was less than two hours old, and she was already exhausted. It was far from her first time in an office, but none of her experience could possibly have prepared her for this. How am I ever going to learn all of this stuff? she fretted as the woman she was replacing kept droning on through specifics.

Dora, she'd decided after less than five minutes in her presence, was a machine. The older woman had answered phone calls for Bruce Wayne since Emily was of an age to still be in diapers, and had her routine down so pat that her desk was more assembly line than work space. Reports came in, signatures went out, appointments were kept and heads of state were disappointed to learn that no, she was sorry but Mr. Wayne had a prior engagement on Saturday evening. It all flew by so quickly that by nine thirty Emily couldn't even remember where she'd been told the bathroom was. I won't last a week, she moaned silently.

"Emily? Are you listening to me?"

"Of course!" she snapped to attention. "The yellow files are in development, blue is for marketing, green is for finished projects, purple is for accounting, beige goes to personnel and red is for anything that's been approved by Mr. Wayne," she regurgitated everything that her ears had apparently been processing without her knowledge. "Is…is that right?"

"You got blue and green mixed up," Dora's eyes narrowed for a moment before she sighed and gave her a pitying look. "Listen, I know this isn't an easy system to learn. I remember, trust me. We've had three other girls in here already trying to take over for me, and not one of them lasted. But you listen close; that man in there," she waved her hand towards the huge oak double doors that let into the CEO's sumptuous corner office, "is obsessed with his files. You send a quarterly earnings report in there in a yellow file and you'll get a look you won't ever forget. It works for him – lack of organization doesn't build companies like this one – but it's a real bear for the rest of us."

"…I'm sure I'll pick it up," she tried to smile. I'm not sure I can do this, even for forty thousand a year…

"I'm sure you will. You don't have much of a choice, really; I'm done in a week's time whether you're ready or not." Standing, the older woman straightened her skirt primly. "I'm running to the washroom. You hold down the fort for five minutes, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded with absolutely no confidence. As soon as Dora had disappeared around the corner, she slumped forward, one hand rising to her forehead. Purple, green, red…I'm so screwed.

"Ahem," a throat was cleared, somewhat impatiently, from directly in front of her.

"Mr….Mr. Wayne!" she exclaimed, staring up at him. "I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't hear you come out of your office. What…what can I-"

"You're new," he said flatly.

"Y-yes, sir."

"…Dora's replacement?"

She swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"What's your name?"

"Emily, sir. Emily Darnell."

"Well, Emily Darnell," he repeated brusquely, "this needs to go down to the Charm Department." As he spoke he handed her a yellow file. "…Do you know where that is?"

Something about his voice was too silky, almost dangerous. "The…the charm department, Mr. Wayne?" Dora had given her a tour of the most important places this morning, sweeping through the halls and pointing at doors as they passed them, but Emily was certain she would have remembered that one had she heard it. "I'm afraid I-"

"Research and Development,"he explained, not unkindly.

"Oh," she acknowledged. That, at least, she thought she could figure out how to find. "Of course. I'm sorry, sir, I-"

"Mr. Wayne!" They both turned to see Dora hustling back. "She's new, Mr. Wayne, my apologies, don't mind her."

"It's fine, Dora," he raised one hand placatingly. "I just needed a file delivered. Emily's assured me she can make that happen."

All three were silent for a moment. "Well, girl?!" Dora barked suddenly, crossing her arms. "Are you going to do it, or not?"

Her eyes grew hot. No, she wanted to shout. No, I'm not, because no one has any chance of learning all of this so quickly without making mistakes. No wonder you've gone through three girls already; between the two of you you probably turned their hair white with terror. She needed the job badly, though; forty thousand a year was enough for her to support a life in the city and still send enough home to keep her widowed mother and her brother, irreparably wounded in the Battle of the Bulge, relatively comfortable. She was the only one who was willing to support them; walking away from Dora and Mr. Wayne right now would be as good as throwing them to the wolves. "Of course," she managed. "I just didn't want to leave the desk unattended, that's all." You old biddy, she didn't add as she rose and passed the other woman, turning right when she reached the hallway. No screeching proclamations of ineptitude followed her, so she had to assume she'd gone the right direction.

"…She just turned the wrong way," Bruce commented when he knew the girl was out of earshot.

"She'll figure it out," his secretary replied. "She's a keeper, that one is, Mr. Wayne. I've got a good feeling about her. She lacks some confidence, but that could just be your usual effect on people." She paused. "Where did you send her, anyway?"

"Charm Department."

Her eyebrows shot up. "…With all due respect, sir, that was a risky move. You know that boy of yours is likely to have her little heart going pitty-pat in all of ten seconds. She's not wearing a ring, either."

"If she's really a keeper, Dora, she'll handle it. Besides, I didn't make this company what it is without a few risky moves. And while Emily seems to be a very nice young lady, you and I both know that Grace Kelly herself could proposition Dick and it wouldn't matter. Not so long as Barbara keeps wearing that ridiculously huge rock on her finger."

"You might dislike that gorgeous diamond, Mr. Wayne, but you'll never fool me into thinking you dislike the girl wearing it," Dora shook her head. "Their vows are six months out still and she's already as good as your daughter."

Dora, you have no idea, he smiled internally, thinking about the society page headline that had accompanied the engagement announcement. The 'Golden Couple of Gotham,' indeed. He could have gone on with the flowery descriptions – after all, he kept a secret copy of the article in his office and all but had it memorized – but there was work to be done. "Well, they grew up together," he said vaguely. "I had a head start on getting to know her." He tapped her desk lightly. "Let him know I expect him in my office for lunch, would you? If he tries to give you an excuse, tell him I already ordered from that little Chinese place he likes off of 8th Avenue."

"Certainly, Mr. Wayne," she shook her head as he returned to his office. That boy is the best thing that ever happened to him, she mused, adjusting her glasses and preparing to assault the day's incoming mail. I'm just glad he finally seems to recognize that.