Alfred Pennyworth opened the curtains to let in the late-morning sunlight. Bruce Wayne automatically rolled away from it when it struck his bed. "Alfred," he groaned from beneath a pillow, "it's the dead of night and I'm trying to get some sleep."

"On the contrary, Master Bruce," Alfred replied. "It's already ten-thirty in the morning."

"Like I said, Alfred—it's the dead of night," Bruce retorted. He peered out from underneath his pillow. The sunlight made him wince.

"Come now, sir—you may be a bat but you're not a vampire bat," Alfred remarked dryly. "I've brought you breakfast and a somewhat abbreviated account of your exploits from last night." He held out a newspaper. Bruce took it and quickly found the article on the front page that detailed the arrest of the Jokerz.

Alfred poured a glass of juice and set it beside Bruce's plate. "A job well done, I take it, sir?"

"Well enough," Bruce said. "At least we won't have to deal with anyone trying to follow in the real Joker's footsteps for a while."

"There is that. Perhaps The Batman can take a momentary leave of absence." The Wayne family's longtime retainer went over to Bruce's wardrobe and began to sort through the items there. He laid out a change of clothes on the bed. "You're expected at the board meeting at Wayne Enterprises today. And Mr. Fox wants to speak with you afterwards, sir, regarding your newest armament."

"Looks like I'm back to being the billionaire wastrel," Bruce said with some amusement. He was starting to get the hang of playing the fool in front of people, he knew. It wasn't something that he liked to do but necessity called for such a tactic. Still, Bruce cringed whenever he read about his foibles and follies in Gotham's newspapers. The tabloids, in particular, liked to play up his ever-changing female companions whenever he was enjoying a night on the town, behaving like he owned the city. He remembered buying a hotel just to appease an irate maitre d' who didn't approve of the two models he was with swimming in their restaurant's decorative indoor pool…a memory which led to another, much sharper one: running into Rachel outside the hotel. The look on Rachel's face was one of disapproval…and worse: disappointment. It was the kind of look that made him want to explain that it was all an act but Rachel cut his protestations short with one simple statement: "It's not who you are underneath, but what you do that defines you."

Alfred knew just by looking at his young master that he was thinking of Rachel again. She and her mother lived at Wayne Manor until the death of both Thomas and Martha Wayne. Mrs. Dawes was a pleasant woman who was as much a part of the Wayne family as he was; Rachel was undoubtedly Bruce's best friend during his childhood. Alfred had hopes once that she would be one of the anchors in his master's divided life. But now Rachel was gone, her life brutally ended at the hands of a madman.

Alfred left the master bedroom quietly, shutting the door behind him. Sometimes, it was best to let people grieve in their own fashion.

Talia saw the stoplight at the intersection turn red and decided to get out where she was. She paid her fare and disembarked from the taxi she'd taken from the house she was renting. Under other circumstances, there would've been a few servants to attend to her needs but her father taught her to be self-sufficient. In a way, she enjoyed the solitude.

As far as she could tell, her arrival in Gotham went unnoticed, even though she knew there were still several operatives of the League of Shadows in the city. If the need arose, she could summon them but she couldn't tell who among them were still loyal to her father. After his death, the League had splintered into several factions. One remained loyal to the memory and the ideals of Ra's al Ghul; the rest were now under control by some of her father's former lieutenants, who had their own agendas. She knew that, from his grave, Ra's al Ghul was most likely hurling curses at his former subordinates. Or perhaps not—her father was realistic enough to know that few men, if any, ever stayed truly loyal to anything.

Talia allowed herself to be carried along by the human tide around her. It was good to see that Gotham was bouncing back from the recent tragedies that had befallen it. There were still noticeable scars—she could see one or two buildings that were being demolished—but the spirit of the city was still alive. That, at least, was something to be thankful for.

She stopped at a newsstand and picked up a copy of the day's paper. She scanned the front page and stopped at one of the articles. "I thought The Joker had been arrested already?" she asked the newsstand's proprietor.

"Yeah, he was, ma'am," the man replied. "But there were some crazies who were trying to imitate him, you know. The cops nabbed them but we all know who helped them."

"Who was it, sir?" Talia wanted to know.

The proprietor smiled at Talia's politeness. "It was the Bat, of course. The cops couldn't have stopped them all. Everybody knows that the Bat was in on it."

"Forgive me," Talia said, affecting the mien of a typical tourist come to visit Gotham. "A bat helped the police? You mean…The Batman...?" Her voice dropped to an awed whisper.

"Yeah, that's him," the proprietor said with more than a touch of pride. "I don't care what the police say about him being a vigilante. He's a hero. Without him, the city would've fallen apart when that nut was blowing things up. I mean, I'm not knocking the cops—especially now we've got a new commissioner running things—but he's done about as much for Gotham as they have."

"Really? But isn't it…dangerous to have him around?" Talia asked.

"It was more dangerous when he wasn't around, ma'am," the proprietor said. "If he's dangerous, we'll live with it."

Talia nodded. "I see." She paid for the newspaper and left the newsstand. She could understand the proprietor's point of view but she didn't agree with it. Still, it was best to keep her opinion to herself, at least for now. There was no point in calling attention to herself.

She went down to the subway, hoping to catch a train that would take her near Gotham University. She always liked the gardens there. She hoped that they were still in good condition.

The meeting was quick, thankfully enough, and Bruce didn't sleep through it all. He actually listened to the presentations given by the various departments. He was most pleased to know that Wayne Foods was doing well in its campaign to introduce more organically-grown products to the market. He thought about the food he ate while training under Ra's al-Ghul. He and his fellow trainees helped grow the vegetables right on the grounds of the League of Shadows' monastery. The rice they ate came from the fields of the farmers that lived in the valley on the other side of the mountain where the League's stronghold was located. He knew how much better food tasted without additives.

"Taking an interest in our food production now, are you?" Lucius Fox asked as he and Bruce boarded one of the elevators.

"Food is a basic need, Mr. Fox," Bruce said. "If we can increase its availability, we can keep more people from going hungry."

Lucius smiled. He could almost see where his boss' line of thought was heading. "You're thinking of reopening the food banks that your father started?"

"I don't see why not," Bruce replied. "See if Accounting can come up with cost projections and things like that. I'd also like to see if we can open up the charity kitchens that my mother used to oversee."

"I remember those," Lucius said appreciatively. "Did you know that I helped her run one of those kitchens?"

Bruce looked at his CEO. "You did?"

"Uh-huh. It was set up right in the neighborhood where I grew up, Mr. Wayne. I thought it would be a good way for me to give something back." Lucius took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. "Your mother insisted on working there at least once a week. Your father would go with her when he wasn't at those free clinics he ran.

"I remember going there after work. I was already an engineer at that time, helping set up what would be Applied Sciences. But I would have my arms in the dishwater along with your parents in that kitchen. Or I'd be serving supper to the people who went there—many of them neighbors of mine. They never forgot what your parents did, Mr. Wayne. I'm glad that you're thinking of restarting their work."

Bruce nodded. "If I want to fight crime, Mr. Fox, I have to do more than just dress up like a bat to do it."

Lucius smiled. "That is true, Mr. Wayne. And I think it would also help Alfred's peace of mind a great deal if you found some other means to carry out your crusade." They got off at Applied Sciences. "And speaking of which, how were those new items you tried out last night?"

"The throwing discs worked fine, Mr. Fox," Bruce replied. "Although I think…I may have dropped one."

"You dropped one?" Wayne Enterprises' CEO thought about that and shrugged. "No big loss. There were no particular markings that would allow anyone to trace them back to you or to Wayne Enterprises. But be more careful in the future, Mr. Wayne."

"The armor's holding up well," Bruce continued. "But just to be sure, I didn't let anyone get a shot at me."

"And how are your wheels holding up, Mr. Wayne?"

"They're holding up splendidly, Mr. Fox. I have to admit, I miss the car, though." He glanced down at some blueprints on a desk. What he saw more than piqued his curiosity. He held one up and asked: "What is this?"

Lucius walked over and saw what his employer held. "That? That was part of the same development program as the Tumbler's. It was supposed to be a prototype for a single-man combat helicopter with stealth technology." He picked up another blueprint. "And this one was a single-man stealth fighter. Unfortunately, just like the Tumbler, it was never put into full production."

"Full production?" Bruce looked at his CEO meaningfully.

"You'd have to earn a pilot's license first, Mr. Wayne," Lucius told him. "But both prototypes work. I'll show them to you sometime."

"I'd like that." Bruce smiled. "After all, bats are supposed to be able to fly, aren't they?"

"That they are, Mr. Wayne," his CEO agreed, and then added: "But they're supposed to be able to land safely too."

The gardens were better than she expected. Talia could almost imagine that she was in Kew Gardens, even if it was on a smaller scale. The landscaping was done with more than a professional touch; whoever paid for it surely picked the best people in the business.

Instinctively, she found her way to the library. Libraries were almost sacred places for her and she could never remember a time when she didn't enjoy being in one, no matter what the size. Her father, of course, encouraged her thirst for learning along with everything else he imparted to her. Her half-sister Nyssa, however, preferred more physical pursuits. Between the two of them, Nyssa was the better fighter but her father always reminded her that she had skills beyond hand-to-hand combat that were immensely useful in fulfilling his goals.

"Good morning," she said to the librarian at the desk. "Are non-students allowed to make use of your library?"

"Of course, ma'am," the librarian said. "I'll need an I.D., though." Talia handed over her driver's license. "You're from London, I see," the librarian commented. She handed Talia a visitor's pass. "I hope you find our collections to be worth your time."

"I'm sure I will," Talia said. "By the way, the landscaping around the campus is charming. May I ask who was in charge of the work?"

"It was a local company, ma'am—Danica Kirk & Associates," the librarian told her. "She was a student here and, in fact, many of our current students and faculty volunteered their time to help her complete her work."

"Well, they did a marvelous job," Talia commented.

"Oh, yes—and it was funded by our alumni. And by Bruce Wayne, of course."

Talia appeared puzzled. "He's not an alumnus?"

"Sadly, he didn't finish his studies here," the librarian said. "The death of his parents had to do with it, no doubt. But we're glad that he so generously donated to our funds." The librarian handed her a brochure, the kind that was given a prospective student. It had a map. "Several of the landmarks on campus were refurbished, thanks to Mr. Wayne. You might want to see them while you're here."

"I might," Talia said. "Thank you." She placed the brochure in her purse. Her first stop would be the bookshelves and then perhaps to the periodicals section.

Bruce and Lucius Fox were laying out the groundwork for their new corporate responsibility project when the phone on the desk rang.

Bruce picked it up. "Yes?"

"Mr. Wayne, Katherine Kane is on Line Three," his CEO's secretary told him.

"Thank you, Ms. Harper," Bruce said. He pressed a button and Katherine's voice came over the receiver: "Bruce! Fancy that—you're at work today."

"And hello to you too, Kate," Bruce said with a smile. Katherine Kane was an old friend, her family being related to his to some degree on his mother's side, according to Alfred. They both attended Gotham University but the difference was that Katherine graduated from GU while Bruce found his learning elsewhere. "What is it I might be able to help you with?"

"Is Mr. Fox there, Bruce? Wait—of course, he is. Who else would run Wayne Enterprises?" Katherine laughed. "Put me on the speaker, Bruce. He's in on this anyway." Bruce did so. "Mr. Fox—are you busy, sir?"

"No, Ms. Kane," Lucius replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"I'm just calling to remind you that you and your employer are invited to my party this evening," Katherine replied. "So please try to keep him from sneaking out to womanize like he always does when he clocks out of there ahead of everyone else."

"Of course, Ms. Kane," Bruce's CEO said, laughing. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"What's this party for again, Kate?" Bruce asked.

"It's to celebrate the re-opening of Gotham Mercy, of course," Katherine told him. "You do remember that I'm on the board, right?"

"That's nice of you but there's really no need to thank me this way—" Bruce started to say but Katherine cut him off with mock exasperation: "It's not for you, Bruce—at least, not just for you. It's for everyone who's worked to get the hospital going again."

"Oh, right—I'm just the guy who donated a new wing," Bruce retorted jokingly. He and Katherine shared a laugh. "I'll be there, Kate. Don't worry. I don't think I have anything on my calendar anyway."

"No date tonight?" Katherine exclaimed in surprise. "My, the planets must be in some kind of abnormal alignment. I'll see you two at the Marlinton this evening then."

"We'll be there, Ms. Kane," Lucius assured her. "Even if I have to lock Mr. Wayne in the trunk of his car to make sure that he'll grace your affair with his presence."

"Thank you, Mr. Fox. Au revoir, sir." With that, Katherine hung up.

"If something comes up, Mr. Wayne, I'm sure I can come up with a plausible alibi," Fox said, eyeing his employer.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Fox," Bruce said. "I'll attend Kate's party. After all, it's not everyday that I get the night off, do I?"

The CEO leaned back in his chair. "No Jokerz to chase down?"

"GCPD got them all," Bruce said. "Tonight The Batman can rest. Nothing seems to be on the horizon anyway."

Fox nodded. "Let's hope it stays that way for a while."

The memorial was simple: a plaque mounted on a marker crafted from marble (Carrera marble, Talia noted). It stood at the head of the path that wound through the gardens at the back of the library.

Dedicated to the Memory of Martha Wayne, the plaque read. Beneath that was the line For whom the World was always a Beautiful Place and Worth Fighting For.

Talia took out her digital camera and took a photo of the memorial. From her research in the library, the Wayne family was quite obviously an integral part of the fabric of Gotham. Thomas and Martha Wayne had literally given their lives for the city that they both loved. The articles she read in the periodicals section's archives were a testimony to the efforts both of them exerted in order to pull Gotham back from its slow decay. Wayne Enterprises was almost bankrupted because of Thomas Wayne's philanthropic activities. Fortunately, the arrival of Lucius Fox helped stem the company's losses. Together the two of them were able to put Wayne Enterprises into the black so that it could serve as a linchpin for the rebirth of Gotham. Half the company's earnings were funneled to various charities, trusts, and other ventures that allowed Gothamites to pull themselves up from poverty and regain their capacity to support themselves. More importantly, the beneficiaries of the Waynes' generosity were able to reclaim the dignity that had been stripped from them by their mean circumstances.

Little wonder then that her father wanted to indoctrinate Bruce Wayne and make him the spearhead of his ambition in this city. She found the remnants of his journals in the wreckage of the monastery and she still kept the few letters that he wrote her during that time. He thought highly of the heir to the Wayne fortune. Instead of some spoiled brat, her father found him to be highly intelligent and highly motivated—but lacking in direction. In other words, he was the perfect disciple for his teachings. And, to her own surprise as she read the few surviving pages of her father's journal, he actually managed to stay on at the monastery until he reached the final phase of his training.

Without doubt, however, Gotham's favorite son found her father's teachings too harsh—just as she did when she was in Bruce Wayne's position. From what she pieced together, he returned home after the destruction of the monastery but never applied what he learned. He appeared to be content to do the occasional act of charity from time to time while maintaining a lavish lifestyle. But Talia knew he could do more. And he could certainly be more of a positive force than The Batman.

As she walked down the path and let the gardens envelop her with their riot of color and of fragrance, Talia let her mind cast back to the memory of her own mother. She and her father met while he was in New York and had been married not long after that. Talia was born and grew up in one of upstate New York's largely rural areas. As a child, her father would be gone most of the time and so she grew very close to her mother. She was a caring woman, sweet in many ways and Talia adored her. But the loneliness she felt when her father would disappear for months at a time eventually drove her to seek refuge in the shelter of narcotics. During those times, her sorrow—and the addiction that it spawned—drove a wedge between her and her only child. When her father returned after yet another lengthy absence, Talia's mother was dead from an overdose. To his credit, her father handled the necessary duties without delegating them to a subordinate. After her mother was buried, he took Talia with him on his travels from that point onwards. She learned to accept his absences and developed a sense of independence that met his approval. Several years later, Talia met Nyssa and was actually happy to have a sister whose company she could share. But Nyssa was more like their father than she was. Her dedication to their father's principles and ideals was much deeper and much stronger than Talia's. In the end, that proved to be her undoing. Nyssa attempted to take control of the various factions of the League of Shadows but failed. Talia regretted with no small amount of sadness that she was unable to form a closer bond with her half-sister while she was alive.

She stopped underneath a Japanese maple tree that spread its branches over the garden path. A cool breeze sent some its leaves spiraling down towards her. Talia closed her eyes and opened her mind's eye. She saw her father, stern of face and of heart; her mother, caring but careworn; and Nyssa, with her heart of fire and ice. Talia embraced them all in her mind, knowing that she loved them all. But the path she chose was different, one that split from the central trunk and root that was her father much as the branches of the maple twisted away from the main body of the tree itself. And yet that did not stop them from being nourished by the tree.

Foolishness, she could almost hear her father say. Without the trunk and the root, the leaves wither off the branches and die. The branch breaks off and dies as well. Only those closest to the root and to the trunk survive.

True, father, she conceded. Those that grow farther from the trunk and the root die. But isn't that true of all things? And is death such an awful fate? She opened her eyes and watched the leaves dancing in the breeze before settling on the ground. The leaves could not survive away from the branches, away from the tree. And yet in their death, they would nourish the tree. If the branches were to break, they would, in time, also become part of the earth from which the tree drew life.

In time, we who grew away from you, father, will die as well. But death is only to be feared if one did not live—and if one's death does not bring life.

From Thomas and Martha Wayne's deaths came life for Gotham.

From her father's death came yet another chance for Gotham to live anew. This time, the city had to draw from its own strengths so that it could experience its rebirth. She saw the signs on her way here to the university. She saw more proof in her readings. Contrary to what her father believed, Gotham wasn't beyond saving. As Martha Wayne herself put it, it was still a beautiful place and worth fighting for each and every day.

But there was work to do, of course, and she felt that the key was Bruce Wayne. She looked around at the campus. This place was proof of his will, his desire to do as his parents once did. He was no wastrel, no dilettante. She had yet to meet him in person but her father was a good enough judge of character that she knew his confidence in Gotham's favorite son was not out of place. All he needed, yet again, was the proper guidance so that he could focus himself totally on the task at hand.

As she left the campus that afternoon, Talia knew that she had two missions. The most important one, to be sure, was to show Bruce Wayne how much good he could do for Gotham if he set his mind to it. As for the other one…if she did the most crucial one properly, she knew that it would render the other mission inconsequential. But if it didn't quite work out that way, she was not above direct intervention in order to accomplish the task she'd set for herself. In that, she was like Nyssa and like her father. Everything that he ever taught them could be distilled into one statement—into the challenge that he held out to all those who became his disciples: Are you ready to do all that is necessary?

From out of death, there can come new life, she told herself. For the sake of Gotham, just as for the sake of several other cities, Talia knew that her answer to her father's challenge was yes.