Title: Now And Then: IV

Author: DC Luder

Rating: T for mild language, adult situations and violence

Summary: Two weeks pass and the Joker picks up the pace. And the body count.

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: The last point of view features a scene loosely based on the money counting scene of the second season of Reno 911! with Trudy and Dangle. Hilarity.

A/N 2: A million apologies for the delay, apparently it takes a long time to write thirty-two pages!

^V^

As I slowly made my way through the rear terrace doors of Wayne Manor, I couldn't help but think of the public service slogan, "It's two in the morning, do you know where your child is?"

It was half passed three and I was pretty sure my parents thought I was in bed.

Before leaving for Africa, Alfred and I had discussed that I needed a reason to be a hero and as much as I respected him, I knew he was wrong. Barbara had started her life as Batgirl to help people, to join the cause, not because she had witnessed the murder of her parents. Same as Tim, he had used his determination to force himself into a life of crime fighting, a life that my father had granted to him.

A life I wanted him to grant me.

A life I was going to have to make for myself.

I loved my father, but as my mother had told me time and time again, he was stubborn and often ignored the wants and needs of others, especially if they conflicted with his own. He wanted me to have a normal childhood, free from the dangers that he had introduced to Dick, Jason and Tim. I wanted nothing more but to stand on a rooftop, a cape billowing behind me.

Slight conflict there.

I knew he wanted to protect me, that was why he had lied about being Batman for so long. Forgiving him had been painful at the time but looking back, I knew it had been for the best. This was mostly because he had slowly brought me into his world, starting with that first anxious trip down the granite steps into the Cave. Since I had been younger than Nathan, Dad had taught me to think analytically about situations, whether it be homework or arguments with friends. And the most important part about being a hero was having a strong mind. Add in the fact that I had been training physically for a life as a crime fighter since I was in primary school and I was simply a costume and an identity away from joining my real Family.

And they needed help, now more than ever.

In the two weeks that had lapsed since the Joker had surfaced, he had killed eight more people. The first attack had been on a bank in Glendale, not five miles from where the drug store clerk had been killed. Alongside three armed men and Harley Quinn, he had gunned down six tellers before cleaning out the drawers and the vault. Before walking away with over six million in cash, he had filled out a withdrawal slip, writing in the total amount he had taken, signing "Mistah J" and scribbling a joke on the back.

Old bankers never die, they just lose interest.

The second killing had taken place the previous night at an all night mechanic and towing place in Sommerset. After beating to death the two mechanics on duty with a wrench, he had stolen a purple Hummer from the secured lot behind the shop, signing in place of the actual owner of the vehicle and of course leaving behind another joke.

Old mechanics never die, they just they just lose their bearings.

From what I had studied on the Computer, the Joker generally didn't go through the trouble of leaving connected jokes behind. And at any rate, the jokes were useless in terms of deducing and preventing the next crime because they only pertained to what was already done. Nevertheless, my father and Tim were determined they would be able to find a link between the seemingly random incidents. Of which was a good thing because it kept my dad occupied most nights well passed four.

For over a month, I had been practicing staying up late at night in order to build my tolerance up for less sleep. After catching a few hours of sleep right before school, I made it through the day with no problem, especially since I packed coffee in my thermos for lunch. Then, after school, I pretended to do the homework I had actually finished at school in my room while I actually napped before either gymnastics practices in town or my kata and exercises in Manor's gym and occasionally the Cave.

I was five-one and a hundred and eight pounds and I could easily out run, out lift and out throw most of the boys in my class. And the two grades above me.

After working my physical muscles, I worked my culinary muscle. Following dinner, I spent time with my family before washing up and going to bed "early" in order to start the day all over again by sneaking out of the house shortly after midnight. Although I didn't want my father to know about my nocturnal activities, I wanted nothing more for him to see the progress I was making in my gymnastics and martial arts. Unfortunately, he was so engrossed with the Joker killings that I was lucky to even get a few words out of him at dinner let alone while I was using the training equipment in the Cave.

However, there were others who had noticed. Cassandra constantly increased the challenges in our work together and I did my best to meet and surpass her expectations. Even Tim had a hard time not gawking at me as I either sparred with Cass or dominated the uneven bars. One day, Dick had dropped by the Townhouse and had watched on with Tim as Cass and I fought one another with bo staffs. Even as the poles clacked against each other, I had overheard him saying, "Damn, she really was born for this."

They knew, I knew, but Dad had no idea.

For the last fifteen days, I had been sneaking out of the Manor during the night, using a variety of exits. At first I only stayed out an hour or so, usually hiding in the garage or the work shed if it was nice enough to walk that far. With each night, I trekked further, stayed out longer. That night, I had made it practically into town on snow shoes, stopping to turn back when I had reached Terry's house.

As I glanced over his snow covered front yard, I had thought back to the week before when we had been preparing for the physical fitness test in school. Terry and I had been practicing the number of sit-ups we could do in under a minute, taking turns holding each others feet down and counting. To reach the coveted eighty-fifth percentile, I had to do forty-six and he had to do fifty-two.

The week before, I had averaged fifty-seven and he thirty-nine.

As he held my feet down that day, Terry smirked, "Take it easy, you'll make me look like a chump again."

I had smiled and proceeded to curl up even faster.

After I had completed fifty-nine sit-ups, we swapped positions and I knelt on his feet while he waited for the gym teacher to signal the start of the minute with his whistle. As I counted silently, Terry did his best to keep up a one-two rhythm and held his own for the first thirty-five seconds. When time was called, he had made it to forty-four.

"Not bad," I smiled, "For a chump."

He nodded, out of breath, "You just wait, I'll kick your ass in chin-ups," he raised his arms up, flexing his thin biceps.

I did the same, "Bring it."

Once we had completed the remaining parts of the test, including chin-ups, push-ups and the grab and reach flexibility test, the class was sent to the indoor track to walk a mile for cool-down. Terry and I had walked together, silent for the first lap.

He finally had asked, "Is everything okay?"

I had nodded with certainty, "Yeah," but my voice had been less convincing.

Terry had waited a few strides before continuing, "I've known you since we were six. You think I can't tell when you're lying?"

After glancing over at him, I had smirked before offering a shrug.

He had then leaned into me, pushing the side of his arm into mine, "Spill it, Wayne."

I couldn't so instead I had lied, "Want to go to the Spring Fling with me?" He had stopped suddenly and I walked a few steps passed him before turning to walk backwards. When he hadn't responded, I had continued, "Well?"

"I thought you said your Dad didn't want you to go because it was an all-school dance?"

When he had caught up with me, I pushed into him slightly, "What Dad doesn't know, won't hurt him."

"Well, all right," he had replied, "As long as he doesn't hurt me."

I had smiled up at him, "I'll protect you."

Just as my watch read four-fifteen in the morning, I quietly snuck through the service entrance and into the Manor. After shedding my snow pants and jacket, I carried them down to the laundry and proceeded to throw them in the washer. Even though Alfred had been gone for two months, I still had kept the room exactly how he liked it and intended to do so until he returned.

As I came back upstairs I stopped in the kitchen quick to get a glass of water before heading back upstairs.

Big mistake.

Dad had his back to me as he stood at the counter fighting with the coffee machine. I was about to quietly retreat when he spun his head around, staring at me with more confusion than surprise, "Kitten, what are you doing up?"

"Oh, I forgot to wash my gym clothes last night so I woke up early to do them this morning."

He turned back to the coffee machine, "Ah, well, I'll throw them in the dryer when they're done so you can go back to bed."

"It's okay, I don't mind staying up, besides I want to read through my newspaper article again for Effective Citizenship class," I replied as I approached him. When I paused at the counter and looked up at him, he took a step back and nodded.

After checking to see he had actually put the filter and the coffee grounds in correctly, all I had to do was change the setting to manual and then to coffee rather than espresso. As the machine went to work, Dad thanked me quietly before leaning his back against the counter, "So what's the article?"

"Brilliant former superheroes who can't operate kitchen appliances, it's fascinating."

He shook his head, "Very funny."

"Thank you," I bowed slightly before answering again, "Actually it's about the Preserve. The youth education center and what services they're going to offer to schools and organizations."

Dad nodded again, "I saw that."

"Mom looked very pretty in the picture."

"Mom looks very pretty in every picture."

After a minute of listening to coffee drip, I offered to make breakfast but he declined and insisted I head upstairs. Not wanting him to come upon wet snow pants in the washer, I told him that I didn't need them after all because I had new clothes Cass had bought for me last weekend.

"All right, kitten. Try to get some sleep."

I hugged him quickly before saying, "I will."

Once I made it back to my bedroom, I collapsed onto my bed, a smile on my face. Taffy, who had been curled up on my pillow, slowly rose, stretching her legs with each step before plopping beside me. I kissed her orange and white face and said, "That was a close one."

"Mrrow."

^V^

Predominantly, I spoke with the children and Ms. Selina in the late afternoon, eastern standard time. Occasionally in the late evening I would chat briefly with Ms. Cassandra, Ms. Barbara and Master Dick and very rarely was I able to converse with Master Tim. But in all honesty, it was completely understandable that he had opted to not waste time chatting when his attention was needed elsewhere.

But I hadn't spoken with Master Bruce until that morning.

Despite the fact that I could have easily returned to Gotham after hearing of the Joker's escape, Master Bruce had insisted that my presence would not make a difference in catching the mad man. Personally, I disagreed. In all previous attempts to capture the clown prince of crime, I had always provided a multitude of services. Aside from offering nourishment and medical treatment, I had often acted as a voice of reason, helping to find a path through the seeming illogical behavior by simply stating the obvious.

To which Master Bruce had always grunted at.

The good old days, as they were.

Over the last several weeks, the individual I had spoken with the most had been no other than Miss Mattie. As much as I tried to direct our discussions to the topics of her academics, social life and extracurricular activities, she always found a way to turn things down a much darker path. Our conversation from the week before had been particularly troubling, as she had described to me her nocturnal activities of late. Instinctually, I felt as if I were responsible to report such information immediately to Master Bruce.

However, without my physical presence in Gotham, I felt that he would overreact and send his daughter to a Catholic all girl's school, even whilst his wife clawed his eyes out.

In the end, I had decided it was best to think the matter over very carefully before proceeding, give it a few good nights of rest before acting. At the very least, perhaps my age-idled memory would falter and I would simply forget everything in its entirety.

One could only hope…

"And what are still you doing up, old man?"

I turned to see Leslie entering our bedroom, still clothed in soiled scrubs after her twelve hour shift at the clinic or rather her sixteen hour shift as it was just passed midnight and she had been due back at eight that evening.

After deftly pulling a book over the letter I had been writing, I replied, "Oh, just catching up on some reading."

She paused behind me, leaning over my shoulder before gently kissing my cheek, "Haven't you read everything?"

"Not quite… I believe I still have the encyclopedias left, from the letter Y onwards."

After standing upright, she snickered faintly before gathering fresh garments from the bureau we shared. Although the residence we lived in was fairly small, it was still comfortable considering the number of inhabitants. The others living with us kept their rooms tidy as well as the common areas. On Sundays, I had been more than willing to instate a traditional dinner, charging the rations with a little flair and flavor.

A miracle, many claimed.

Leslie sighed as she made her way out of the room, "I may be old, Alfred Pennyworth, but I'm not blind. The ink smudges on your hand says you've written at least three letters… and to think I forced you to stay home today to rest your hands."

"Guilty as charged," I responded even though I knew she had already left for the washroom.

Rather than needlessly stress my hands, Leslie had ordered me to take the day to myself of which I had obliged. With the residents hard at work tending to our many daily visitors, I had quickly cleaned up the general living areas as well as the room Leslie and I shared. After a light lunch, I had tended to the vegetable and flower gardens, weeding the lanes before enriching the soil. Afterwards, I recuperated with an ice pack on each hand and comfortable chair set before the window overlooking our small garden, mentally outlining the letters I planned on writing.

For Master Nathan it was words of encouragement for his newfound football activities as well as praise for his ongoing successes as a young student. For Master Dick and Ms. Barbara it was questions about the latest addition to the Family as well as commenting on any pictures they had forwarded to me in their last correspondence. For Master Tim and Ms. Cassandra, I commented on the good Leslie, myself and the other volunteers were accomplishing in the local communities and shared my certainties that they would be successful in apprehending the Joker, in due time.

In regards to Ms. Selina, I found myself offering advice on how to handle Master Bruce's behavior even though she had already mastered the task years ago. After all, she had managed to survive his return and subsequent retirement from the guise without either slaying him or losing her sanity. In the letters she returned, she had kept me updated on how the Family was really fairing, not the sugar-coated editions that I received from the others. In light of her frankness, I reasoned it was only proper to return the same.

One letter, shortly after the Joker had first made his ghastly presence known in Gotham, Ms. Selina had described a horrible dream she had suffered where Master Bruce had still been Batman and had lost in a final showdown against his arch nemesis. As I recalled, her exact words had been, "He didn't stand a chance… and when he called for help no one came."

Her words had stood out from the page because I myself had had a number of similar dreams since hearing of the Joker's escape.

"Who are you suffering for now?" Leslie asked as she entered the bedroom once more, washed and dressed in cotton pajamas under a thin robe. Although the days saw temperatures in the eighties, the nights cooled off rapidly in the absence of a blazing sun.

Glancing down at the top of the partially concealed letter, I read aloud, "Dear Master Bruce…"

"Has he written back yet?"

I shook my head while I set my pen down, "No, but his stubborn ways never deterred me while I stood at his side… there is no reason for it to change with an ocean between us."

Leslie paused for a moment before replying, "Well, I suggest you develop a case of writer's block and let it be until morning."

In all honesty, I had more than enough to write to my charge but the difficulty had been in sifting through the thoughts and concerns in order to present them without causing him to lose his reserve. This made the actual act of writing to him a long and tedious process.

After a moment of silent thought, I agreed, "I shall attend to it tomorrow."

Having already changed into sleepwear earlier that evening, I had little to do aside from securing the letter in progress in a leather folder atop the pages I had completed for the others. Despite not having felt the need for sleep, I gave in to slumber not long after laying in bed beside Leslie. Filmy dreams of wicked men and fallen heroes faded in and out, coming to an abrupt end upon the chime of the satellite phone.

A cursory glance at the analog bedside clock showed it to be approaching six-thirty, making it half passed two in Gotham City. I quickly donned a house coat, doing my best to qualm the fears that any late night phone call had brought to my life. I managed to answer on the sixth ring with a stoic voice, "Yes?"

The last thing I had expected from the other end of the line was a hushed growl followed by an audible wince, "Damnit…"

I hesitated before asking, "Master Bruce?"

"Sorry…" he said all too quickly before continuing, "Did I wake you?"

"Not in the least, sir, my day is just beginning as it were," I replied quietly as I took the phone out of the darkened bedroom, through the open main area of the house and out onto the front deck, moving silently as to not disturb the weary garnering what rest they could. "I must admit that although it is pleasant to hear from you, the manner in which you greeted me has brought me a bit of alarm…"

"Oh, right… it's nothing."

"Of course, sir."

"… Just a scratch."

"A scratch, sir? Has Taffy turned ravenous?"

He exhaled sharply before replying, although not to my question, "I think the cards are a decoy… I don't even think that he's behind them…"

"Sir?"

He swore under his breath again before continuing, "The Joker cards…"

"Ah, yes," I slowly reclined on a wooden chair, looking out just as the beginnings of dawn crept over the horizon, "I believe Master Timothy has mentioned them."

"I kept thinking that it had to be… had to be him. Distraction from the big picture but it had to be part of his plan."

"I take it something has arisen to change your usually fixated way of thinking?"

He winced again before offering a single chuckle, "A bump on the back of my head…" Before I could inquire into his meaning, Master Bruce continued, "The jokes… the key is with the jokes… Can I confide in you, Alfred?"

"As always, Master Bruce."

He hesitated once more before speaking in abbreviated quips, separated by winces, "I think he knows… Harley's a fool but even she can see the difference between myself and Tim… I think she figured it out when she got out of her cell at Arkham to see him and… when they escaped she told him…"

When his words faded into an undecipherable growl, I finally spoke up, "About this bump on the back of your head…"

He finally confessed that he had been continuing his undercover operations in Gotham several nights of the week. I thought this was interesting as it would explain his lack of awareness that Miss Mattie was also absent from her bed most nights. Maser Bruce then described, in muted detail, that he had finally been able to confront and individual who had been giving Joker cards away. After going the peaceful route, force had been required and after the confrontation, he had been able to ascertain that the gentleman had been doing so for his own purposes.

"I see…"

"Got in a lucky shot with a garbage can lid… only a few more stitches… Could use a hand though, arms are getting tired."

A smirk came over my lips as I replied, "I'm on my way, sir." When his soft sigh turned back into a growl, I continued, "Now, although I fear my mind is aged and forgetful, I do believe you are married."

"Didn't want to… bother her."

"Of course not," I smiled at the sight of a quartet of pygmy hippopotamus came into view not fifty yards off, shuffling towards the river that ran adjacent to our road. As something in the dark of dawn spooked them the four took off at a shuffling lope, revealing one smaller one trying to keep up with his infantile legs. "Might I suggest the capable hands of Dr.---."

Finally, the harsh snap I had been expecting arrived, "No, you may not."

Changing the subject back to the ghoulish clown, I questioned, "So you believe the jokes are to lure you back in order to confront him?"

"Yes…"

"And have you shared this with Master Timothy?"

"No… but I can tell it's on his mind. He just hasn't found it in him to bring it up to me."

As the pygmy hippos disappeared from sight, no doubt reaching the safety of the riverbed, I replied, "Not to impose upon your ever astute line of thinking, Master Bruce, but I do believe that the Joker rarely deviates from his goal."

There was a silent pause before I heard the clatter of stainless steel instruments being dropped into a glass beaker, "He never stops until he gets what he wants." I was unable to say the words aloud but fortunately enough Master Bruce had already known what they were and sighed, "Me… dead."

^V^

"Hey."

Smack.

"Hey."

Thud.

"Can… we talk?"

Whack.

"About what?"

Thud, whack.

"… About me being a flaming douche bag?"

I paused before striking the sand bag again, slowly turning to see Tim approaching the training bay. Even though it was a little after eight on a Saturday morning he seemed fully rested and ready for the day, a task considering I knew he hadn't gone home until after four that morning.

Mattie had invited Barbara, Ethan and myself up for brunch as well as Tim and Cassandra. Foolish me, I had deciphered "brunch" as a late morning meal and had assumed that we wouldn't head up to Wayne Manor until ten-thirty at the earliest. Barbara, however, wanted to spend time with Selina and had decided that we were going up at eight. Not wanting to sit idly by in the kitchen while Mattie began the early preparation stages of brunch, I opted to get an early morning workout in down in the Cave.

Or rather some much needed alone time beating the crap out of something.

I had grown considerably frustrated in the last few weeks but it wasn't entirely because the Joker was still lose, killing innocents while we chased after his Jack Be Nimble shadow. It was because my best friend, my "little bro", my fellow surviving former Robin had become someone I knew he wasn't.

He had become Bruce.

Not the Bruce we all knew and loved but the one we hated, the obsessive, uncaring, cold-hearted beast that took over Bruce's body whenever the odds were stacked against him. I had done my best to ignore the mannerisms, blaming them on stress and a lack of sleep but when Tim had snapped at me on the rooftop the night the Joker returned to his murderous ways, it sank home.

I was kidding…

Well don't…

Since he had taken the cowl, or rather had been given the cowl, Tim had been able to masterfully blend his way of fighting crime into the Batman. Amazingly enough, he had been successful in combining the best of both identities in order to be his own caped crusader. Over the years he had been beneath the pointy ears, he had claimed he was never going to end up like Bruce.

Ever.

And there we had been, sitting on a cold rooftop just as we had been for over a decade. I had cracked a joke and rather than roll his eyes or joke back, he had yelled at me as if I were a dumb sidekick. Naturally, rather than call him on it, I had let it slide for the time being so that it would be able to fester and boil in my gut. I had finally forced myself to confide in Barbara but her advice had been exactly what I hadn't wanted to do: talk to him.

I had replied something along the lines that he should apologize to me first but she had simply smacked my cheek, "Richard, be the big boy I know you are and talk to him… but first, change Ethan, he was making faces a minute ago." Even still, I refused to confront him first, deciding it was he who needed to be the big boy.

As I did my best to keep from picturing his face on the punching bag, I responded while resuming my alternating jabs and uppercuts, "I could talk about that."

He nodded before running a hand through his short, dark hair, "Want me to hold the bag for you?"

I kneed the sand bag twice, causing it to spin wildly on the chain that it was hanging from, "No, but if you want to stand in its place…"

"I think I'll pass," he remarked, remaining behind me and to my left as he continued, "I know I've been an ass and I'm sorry… It's easy to blame it on the Joker or pushing myself for too long and too hard but really it boils down to the fact that I let that mask get the best of me."

"It happens," I grunted before throwing a one-two combination jab and kick with my left limbs.

"It shouldn't though… and I'm sorry it did."

The sincerity in his voice caused me to stop and finally turn him fully.

Apologizing voluntarily, and meaning it, was definitely not Bruce-like.

I wiped sweat from my brow before nodding, directing my gaze to my bare feet, "Well, that's the first step to recovery from being Crazy Bat is admitting you were Crazy Bat."

Tim forced a smirk, "But the next step is tricky because you have to admit to a greater power and there is no greater power than Crazy Bat."

I shook my head and wagged a finger at him "Au contraire, my friend. There is such a power and his name is Chuck Norris." For emphasis, I threw an over the top roundhouse at Tim which he blocked while fighting back a true smile.

As we proceeded to spar, the tension that had been palpable a moment earlier dissipated with each blow we wielded upon one another. Tim put me in a head lock after kicking me just below my ribcage, "You know, if you had a dollar and Chuck Norris had a dollar, he'd have more money than you."

I managed to escape his grasp after slamming my bare heel in his instep while crashing an elbow into his abdomen, "And if Chuck Norris wants more cowbell, he gets more cowbell."

After spinning to place his back against mine, Tim's arms hooked themselves with mine and he dove forward into a somersault to slam me down face first into the mats, "He can believe it's not butter."

I went limp to make the fall less painful but instead of releasing him, I held fast to Tim's arms and did a backwards tuck in order to put him face down. As I sat on his lower back, I grabbed his left ankle, twisting it as I bent his leg while at the same time reaching back and performing a similar move on his right arm, "Chuck Norris can win Connect Four in three moves."

Tim's free hand came back and stabbed me just below the armpit and when I released his other hand he arched his back and flung me off of him before jumping to his feet, "There's no control button on Chuck Norris's keyboard because he's always in control."

We kept joking back and forth for the better part of twenty minutes until finally we were both physically and mentally spent. As we walked towards the showers, I set a hand on Tim's shoulder, "I think you're ready for the third step little bro."

"Which is?" he asked as he glanced over at me quickly.

"Turn your life over to Chuck Norris."

"I'm not growing a beard," he growled jokingly.

"All right but you have to at least wear the outfit."

He paused at the entrance of the spacious, cold room and nodded reluctantly, "Okay… but not the jeans… I might want to have children some day."

We showered and changed quickly in order to head upstairs for brunch. The dining room table was set and most of the attendees were already taking their seats. I offered to help Mattie bring in the food but she said Cassandra was her sous chef for the day.

"Maybe you can take drink orders?" Barbara joked as she settled Ethan into his high chair.

Nathan pointed to his chest suddenly, "I'm taking d-wink oh-dehs!"

Barbara set a hand on my forearm and looked up at me apologetically, "Sorry, I didn't get your hopes up did I?"

"I'll manage," I sighed heavily while sitting on the other side of Ethan. I sat back and cleared my throat loudly and the young child looked up at me and grinned.

There were a few sounds Ethan had associated specifically with me, clearing my throat being one of the first I discovered. The two others that instantly focused his attention on me included my saying "Wha' happened?" as well when I declared in a high pitched voice, "Stinky stinky stinky!" in mockery of a garbage bag commercial.

When his eyes began to wander, I cleared my throat again and his crystal blue eyes shot back to mine this time the smile came with a squeal and a giggle. I reached out and gently tickled his neck and as he squirmed away, Barbara's hand flashed out and smacked me upside the back of my head.

"What?" I cried out in shock.

"You do this every time before he eats… you get him all worked up and then leave me to try and feed him."

I shook my head, "I do no such thing…" I glanced down at my son who was pressing his tiny hands against his empty Franklin the Turtle ceramic plate.

And then I cleared my throat.

Before Barbara or even Selina could yell at me for causing the child to erupt in loud, squealing laughter, I heard a quick and terse, "Richard."

I didn't need to look up at the atrium between the dining room and the hallway to know that it had come from Bruce, but it didn't stop me. He, like Tim, seemed alert and ready for the day despite running on a mere handful of sleep. As I glanced between Bruce and Tim, I fought a smirk seeing they had even dressed similarly in dark stone washed jeans and dark button down shirts of gray tees.

As I suppressed a shudder, I apologized, "Sorry, maybe I shouldn't sit next to him if I'm---," I couldn't finish over Ethan's giggles and cries.

Barbara growled something at me before trying to entice Ethan to settle down with his bottle of formula. Seemingly off the hook, I glanced to Tim and said, "Yeah, maybe you should wear the jeans… save you from the agony of this."

We garnered confused looks from everyone as we chuckled to ourselves, which only drew more looks when Tim replied, "Fine, still no beard."

"Keep hating on C-Nor and it'll bite you."

"Nay… it will roundhouse me."

At that, I found myself laughing far louder than my son ever would.

After Mattie and Cass served the food and Selina helped Nathan pour juice, milk and coffee for everyone, I did my best to be the big boy that Barbara knew I could be. Since it was a Family brunch, talk stayed light and far from the topics that we actually cared about. We joked about Tim spilling a dollop of syrup on himself and talked about Mattie's upcoming horse show season and Nathan's indoor Junior PeeWee football practices.

Had it been dinner and had Ethan, Nathan and perhaps even Mattie been safely tucked into bed I was certain the conversation would have been grim and gritty.

With everyone distracted by brioche French toast as well slices of baguette topped with poached eggs, andouille sausage, gouda cheese and a spiced hollandaise sauce, the conversation dropped off abruptly, leaving the big room to be filled with the clatter of silverware and chiming of glass. Apparently there was even enough background noise to convince my wife that I cleared my throat when in fact it had come from further down the table.

More specifically, from my son's grandfather.

"Dick," Barbara warned as she redirected Nathan's focus on his mashed bits of French toast.

"But…" I began as I looked to Bruce.

He ignored me and complimented Mattie, "This is delicious, kitten."

"Thanks, Dad," she smirked at him before tasting her orange juice.

I sighed and went to return to my own breakfast when Bruce did it again, utilizing his long neglected and yet freakishly perfected skill of ventriloquism. Sure enough, I was blamed for Ethan slapping his hands down on his mushy food, sending it flying into my wife's hair.

When I looked to Bruce again, he winked at me.

Later, after brunch ended without any other flying food incidents, I walked with Tim back down to the Cave asking him if he had noticed my being framed.

He nodded and set a hand on my shoulder, "Yeah… which had me thinking about the hierarchy of greater powers… I still think Bruce beats Chuck Norris."

After a reluctant nod, I agreed and added, "You're right… mainly because most people wear Superman pajamas…"

He finished with a true Tim Drake grin, "And Superman wears Batman pajamas."

^V^

"Hey, kiddo, Kat's on the phone---," I announced as I opened my daughter's bedroom door.

After brunch, rather than take on the role of the hostess with the most-ess, Mattie had left the den for her bedroom in order to work on her creative writing assignment. I had been a bit confused but she had been quick to explain that she desired to spend that night at Katarina's and wanted to make sure her homework was done before she enjoyed the rest of the weekend.

"If that's okay," she had smiled up at me brightly.

I had looked to Bruce who had just taken a seat on one of the couches with Ethan in his lap, "Well, really it's up to your father."

Mattie had trotted over to him while asking angelically, "Father?"

"Daughter?" he had looked at her, doing his best to remain passive.

Even though there had been no need to push the charm on Bruce, Mattie had played the part of the doting and loving child to perfection, no doubt fueled by the that fact that we had company. Without hesitation, she had planted a kiss on his cheek, batting her eyes before staring up at him.

Ice staring into ice.

"Please, Daddy."

Although he had done a remarkable job holding back his smirk to that point, Bruce had become powerless for a moment and nodded as a smile flashed over his lips for a fraction of a second.

"Thank you!" she had declared before kissing him again. After touring them room to say a rushed string of farewells, Mattie had skipped out of the room and towards the stairs.

"Such a happy child," Tim had commented as he reclined into the back of the couch.

After sitting beside Bruce, I reached up and ran a hand over the back of his head gently, grinning as he winced. Letting my hand fall to rest behind his back, I had replied, "I don't know where she gets it…"

He had arrived to bed earlier that morning muttering to himself in the dark and smelling of betadine. I had feigned sleep until he was in bed beside me, sighing before asking what he had done to himself on the "much safer than when I was Matches" undercover stint the had been working at for the last two months.

"Just a scratch," he had replied before gesturing to the back of his head.

"Only I'm allowed to scratch you," I had growled.

He had then recounted his evening, his words coming even and with purpose as any formal debriefing would. Apparently he had found a gentleman at a strip club who had been showing off a Joker card to a woman in order to entice a free lap dance out of her. After asking very nicely, he then had been indicated to the man who had handed out the card. Upon following the man outside at the end of the night, Bruce had attempted to politely question him.

"And?"

"… And he tried to take me out with a steel garbage lid."

"Ouch… Although… It seems to me that you're just so happening to find these people at strip clubs…" I had joked.

"Evil lurks in evil places."

"Naked women are evil?"

He had leaned towards me and I felt sandpaper on my cheek while he planted a kiss next to my ear, "All of them… except you."

Despite his less than pleasant evening, Bruce was up at seven-thirty to fulfill his promise to his children that they would swim that morning. I, on the other hand, had opted to stay in bed for another fifteen minutes, wrapping my arms around Bruce's still warm pillow. After languidly rising, I washed up and dressed for the day before heading downstairs to see how water-logged the rest of my family had become.

I had entered the vast pool room just in time to see my son's glorious cannon ball into the deep end, sending waves over my daughter's head as she treaded water. When Mattie had coughed out the water that had gone in her mouth, she began yelling at Nathan even before he had surfaced.

Bruce, who had been sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs hanging in the water, did little to intervene beyond, "Nathan, you need to call out when you plan on jumping into the water."

After grasping the edge and climbing out, Nathan had nodded before spinning around taking flight once more into the pool, "Caaannnoonnballl!"

"Dad, tell him to stop it," Mattie said after she had managed to recover from another onslaught of waves.

I had paused directly behind Bruce and kicked him in the lower back, "Parental supervision, Bruce," when he had looked back at me, I had continued, "Parent. Supervise."

The next time Nathan surfaced, Bruce had told him he was instilling a "no cannon balls before noon" rule in Wayne Manor. Naturally in protest, Nathan had once more climbed out of the pool and put his hand son his hips before aiming a glare and monstrous whine at his father, "That's not fai-uh!"

Bruce had stood, shaking the water from his legs before he had countered, "Life is fair, now and then. Unfortunately, now it's not."

Nathan had growled in true tiger form before he had stomped out of the pool room.

Probably not the opportune moment, but I had stepped forward and had kissed Bruce on the cheek, "Good morning."

Not thirty minutes later, Dick and Barbara had arrived with Ethan, and it wasn't long after that Tim and Cass arrived. With the big boys downstairs, the rest of us had spent the morning in the den, watching Ethan toddle about, with Mattie close behind in case he fell.

It wasn't an hour after that we had brunch as a Family even though Mattie had wanted everyone up for dinner the night before. I had suggested brunch for hope that the day light would make the night life stay at bay.

Even still, I had wondered if any of the others were aware of the eight stitches in the back of Bruce's head.

Odds were they had no clue.

By the time our guests departed it was well after noon. After their disagreement that morning, Bruce had decided he was going to spend some alone time to talk with Nathan. With my daughter hard at work and husband and son reconciling, I had been left to my own devices. Normally, it would have been a perfect chance to share a pot of lemon herbal tea and either a comforting conversation or a one-way rant with Alfred, to which he would gladly receive.

Normally…

Although curling up in a chair with a book in the library had been appealing, I had opted for an hour of yoga in the morning room followed by a catnap in the sauna. Although the hot tub had been appealing, I had opted out considering it would be a waste if I had been alone. A shower and a fresh robe later, I had made it upstairs just to catch the phone ringing on the third floor hall.

Opening Mattie's door, I found her not at her desk hacking away at her computer with a fervor to make Oracle proud, but instead lying on her bed with Taffy cuddled up beside her. After quietly telling Katarina to call back in an hour, I hung up and crossed the room on tip toe. Taffy opened an eye at me before resuming her own cat nap.

I carefully removed the open note book from Mattie's lap and held it under my arm in order to cover her with a light quilt. Before setting the book down on her desk, I went to close it but the markings on the page caused me to look more closely.

Although no artist, it wasn't hard to see what my daughter had been sketching, no doubt from the moment she had made it to her bedroom after brunch. At first glance, one would assume she had been taking a strong initiative on designing a Halloween costume. But given the detailed notes on the margin indicating the measurements of the garments as well as a list of items under the heading "Borrow from the Bat-Cave" I knew it was far more than playing dress-up.

Not wanting to know any more than I already did, I set the book back down and exited the room as quietly as I had entered. After telling Katarina ro call back later, I hung the phone back up on its charger and made my way to Nathan's room to see he was also asleep, tucked in beside his stuffed dog.

And behind door number three…

Bruce wasn't in bed but rather standing at his bathroom sink trying to check out his sutures in the mirrors. He was contorting his head around that had me wondering if he also had been spending his afternoon doing yoga as well. When he caught me out of the corner of his eye, he stopped and faced me.

"Prognosis?" I asked.

He grunted before walking passed me back into the bedroom, "I'll live."

As I followed him, I noticed he too had a book open on the bed but rather than sketches of crime fighting costume, it was Alfred's journal . Despite his time being consumed by the Joker and paternal duties, he had been religiously reading through the journal almost every day, often reading it aloud to Nathan before bed.

"How old are we today?" I asked as I sat on the bed.

After he joined me, Bruce took the book into his hands, "Six. And a half."

Reclining against the pillows, I patted the space beside me and said, "Read to me."

"I didn't hear the magic word…"

"Read to me… now."

"Yes, dear."

I smacked him in the face with a pillow and he made no outward response aside from turning the page while clearing his throat. "August eighth, nineteen-sixty-six---."

"Also known as the first stone age…" I snickered and when he began to shut the journal in protest, I moved closer to him, resting my head beside his on the pillow, "I'm sorry. Please, do tell me what young Master Bruce was up to… and say Master Bruce, that way it sounds more Alfred-y."

Bruce continued after a moment, "I woke this morning to the sound of Master Thomas making his way down the stairs at half passed four. Given the care he was using in quieting his foot falls, I determined it was not a family emergency but rather one pertaining to the hospital . Knowing he would make a quick stop to the kitchen to fetch a cup of horrid instant coffee that he hid in the pantry behind the apple cider vinegar, I donned my robe and slippers before descending to the ground floor as well.

"As anticipated, he was standing at the stovetop waiting for a kettle to come to a boil. Before I could announce my presence, he glanced over his broad shoulder, 'Sorry, Alfred, afraid there's no time for breakfast.' And even though I had no expectations to convince him otherwise, I had responded with, 'I believe I once heard that breakfast was the most important meal of the day…'

"He had smirked ever so slightly and conceded, 'All right, something quick, then.'"

I glanced up at Bruce and saw a smirk, no doubt subconsciously shadowing his father, forming on his lips. After shifting closer to him, I commented, "So Alfred has always had control of Wayne men, interesting…"

Bruce nodded before continuing, "Something quick had been in the form of over easy eggs, wheat toast and cottage cheese blended with raspberry preserves. I would have preferred to add another side considering it was most likely going to be his only meal for the day. Without prompting on my behalf, Master Thomas began explaining that a colleague had been called away on a family emergency, thus forcing him into the hospital on his day off. I remained silent as I tended to the dishes, listening to him list off the surgeries awaiting his arrival as he ate quickly and methodically. When he offered me his empty plate and dirtied utensils, I found my voice, 'Shall I relay said information to Master Bruce?'"

Bruce hesitated once more, his voice coming more softly as he read, "Master Thomas was unable to disclose the tortured look on his weary face, 'Tell him… I'll make it up to him next weekend.' To which I had curtly replied, 'Very well, sir.'"

Remaining silent as Bruce read the remainder of the journal entry, I listened as he read over the details of how Alfred spent his day taking a six-year-old Bruce to the Natural History Museum in Thomas's stead. As with every entry that I had been able to listen to, Alfred left his musings and internal thoughts for the end, almost in the form of closing argument. That day, he had wondered if Thomas's dedication to the people of Gotham was worth missing the most important time of his son's childhood.

I couldn't help but think back on a number of arguments Bruce and I had when he was lurking in dark alleys while Mattie was toddling about.

After he closed the leather bound journal, I kissed his cheek gently before asking, "So, did he make it up to you?"

"We'll find out when we get there."

"You don't remember if he did or not?"

Bruce sat up in order to set the book on the bed side table. Rather than recline back down beside me, he chose to remain upright as he answered, "It's impossible to discern every morning I came running downstairs, ready to spend the day with my father only to have Alfred tell me he had been called away to the hospital."

I sat up as well, uncertain as to whether I should respond or not.

When I chose not to, he continued, "I do remember, though… he took my mother and I to the county fair the next weekend. Must have gone on the Ferris wheel with me a dozen times."

^V^

Even though I had wanted nothing more but to return home and sleep away the afternoon, I had a hard time leaving Bristol without visiting my father.

After brunch, Dick and I had made our way down to the Cave where Bruce had wanted to meet with us. We had spent the ten minutes waiting for him to join us by tooling around on the Computer, forming a rough outline for the night's patrol while musing as to what he wanted to talk to us about.

When nearly silent footsteps approached us, Dick had leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Whatever he says, plead the fifth."

By the time Bruce stood before us, Dick and I had taken on similar expressions of slight interest on our faces, of which had most likely been the cause of the odd look that came over Bruce's.

He had cleared his throat before saying, "I questioned an individual last night responsible for distributing Joker cards in the East End."

"What did he say?" I found myself asking.

Bruce reached a hand back and scratched his head before replying, "After a slight confrontation he admitted he was handing them out to men he was hiring to deal Ecstasy at night clubs and bars. I found about three grand worth of drugs on him, mostly in capsule form. He gave each men a card and depending on their level of experience a certain amount of drugs to push."

He stepped forward and brought up a Gotham City jail file on a thirty-six year old man named Reginald "Reggie" Sheppard. The perp's face had certainly seen better days as the photograph showed numerous scars on his face and neck as well as wrinkles at his eyes and mouth. The laundry list of arrests and convictions included aggravated assault, robbery, battery, carrying a concealed weapon and possession of narcotics with the intent to sell.

He had been in and out of Blackgate since the age of eighteen.

"Damn," Dick had muttered, "Wait… why was he handing out Joker cards?"

Bruce had explained, "The X he was pushing was nicknamed Laugh Attack."

"What? And he thought it would be a better marketing campaign to tie his work in with the Joker's escape?" Dick had commented before adding, "Lucky we found him before the Joker did… Talk about a laugh attack."

We discussed the latest information for another twenty minutes or so before Barbara beckoned dick upstairs so she could get Ethan home for his nap.

Leaving me alone with Bruce.

After a silent minute, I had finally spoken, "Didn't know you were still going out."

He nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving the monitor as he skimmed the list we had compiled of individuals receiving Joker cards, "Just a few nights a week."

"Ah," I had replied, "Well if you keep it up, let me know, maybe we could---."

"I won't be. Not after last night." He finally took the empty chair before the computer console and I smirked to see the fresh sutures on the back of his head. Even though most of his hair was a dark, steely gray, the crown of his head was a shade lighter making the angry red line all the more visible.

I had noticed them at brunch but hadn't made any indication of it. Just as when Bruce had been Batman, he never made a broadcast that he had been injured. I couldn't count the times we had patrolled side by side while he had been suffering in secret from a grazed bullet wound or broken knuckles. And just as he kept his pain quiet, he expected others to do the same.

"Nice… my stitch jobs come out looking like they were done by a blindfolded Dr. Frankenstein."

Although I had expected Bruce to remain silent, he had surprisingly commented, "It's impossible to compare with Alfred's seamless sutures."

"That it is," I had smiled, "Heard form him lately?"

He shook his head, his attention back to the keyboard and monitor.

"I don't think I've talked to him in weeks but Cass and I just sent a letter and some pictures of our herb garden in the making the other day."

Bruce had glanced over his shoulder at me as if I had told him that I had been taking scuba diving lessons with Killer Croc. I had quickly explained that Cass and I had started a couples cooking class that met each Wednesday night and we were required to grow our own herbs.

"Ah."

"Actually, I cook, she eats…, "I had smirked before adding, "I know, sounds lame but it's nice to picture the Joker's face when I'm tenderizing meat."

He had smirked before returning to the computer.

It was another twenty minutes before I decided to head out myself. I left Bruce to his tedious work of completely refiguring our theory behind the Joker cards. Once back in the Manor, it took a tour of the ground floor to find Cassandra helping Mattie dry dishes. As she finished her task, I told her that I had thought about dropping by next door to see Dad.

"What about the boy?" she had asked as she dried the last coffee cup.

"Hmm, good point…"

"I'll go home… You can visit."

"You sure?"

Cass had relinquished her hand towel to Mattie before nodding, "Yeah, besides, you need to play catch up. Not me."

After thanking Mattie for brunch, I hitched a ride with Cass down the driveway but opted to walk up the drive to Dad's. When she looked at my quizzically, I had replied, "Can't surprise him if he hears a car pull up."

She had rolled her eyes at me, "Weird-o."

"That's right, Mrs. Weird-o," I had leaned in and kissed her cheek before stepping out of the car.

"Not yet!" she had called out before I shut the door.

Even though the morning had been chilly, noon had brought abundant sunshine and the ten minute walk up to my father's house had actually been comfortable. Rather than pass through the front door, I snuck around to the service entrance and carefully made my way inside. After wiping my shoes on the small rug, I crept down the corridor following the sound of my father grumbling, seemingly to himself.

Coming into the main den, I smiled to see him sitting on the white carpeted floor with his back to me. Before him sat a number of small speakers, screws strewn about as well as a cordless power drill. I watched on as he skimmed through a small instruction manual, grumbling, "What the hell is an S-Video connector?"

"The round plug, Dad, with the four little metal pins."

He spun around and as I offered a smirk, he got to his feet, "It's funny, I was just about to call you… Dana bought this Sony Dream stereo system but left me all alone to install it." Dad closed the space between us and took me into an awkward embrace before patting my back, "Good to see you, stranger."

"You, too, Dad."

He looked behind me and into the hall, no doubt looking for Cass.

"Oh, she headed back into the city to walk the dog and catch up on some things at the house."

Dad stepped back to the chaos on the floor before sitting down, "Been next door?"

I nodded before joining him, "Yeah, just for a bit." I proceeded to arrange the speakers before me as they would be when properly mounted on the walls. When I continued to make order of the mess my father had made of the home theater system, I added, "Where's Dana?"

He untangled a pair of input wires before replying, "Oh, she went to a spa day thing with a few friends. I planned on getting this installed so I? could sit back and enjoy a movie…"

I took the double ended red and white composite audio cords from him before standing, "Here, if you want to plug this end into the TV and the other end into the Blu-Ray player…"

Dad got to his feet as well and did as I directed, "What's this for?"

"Sound. Then that s-cable, the black one, that'll be visual…"

After he had both cords correctly attached, he nodded back to the carpet where a lone double ended red cord sat, "What about that one?"

I shook my head, "It's for video but it's not high quality… you want the S-Video, much better quality picture."

Dad hit the power button on both devices and smiled to see the plasma screen come to life. As he popped in a disc, he smiled at me, "Guess all those years you spent playing video games actually had a purpose."

"Guess so," I replied.

We spent the next hour trying out different locations for the speakers, playing with the receptors and testing the sound layers as Rescue Dawn played on the screen. After finally locating the positions for the ultimate movie experience, we drilled the speakers into place. Rewarding ourselves for such a grand accomplishment, Dad and I sat together on the overstuffed tan couch to watch the remaining forty minutes of the film.

"Damn," Dad commented as the bullets whizzed by Dieter Dengler as he narrowly escaped Thai militants pursuing him, "Sounds like we're right there."

"A magnetically shielded, enclosed bass reflex on the sub-woofer will do that," I replied.

He glanced over at me before looking back to the screen. Interestingly enough, it was the exact same look Bruce had given me when I had told him Cass and I were in a cooking class. I could only have imagined what he would have looked like if I had told him that we were engaged…

Either one of them for that matter.

To date, the plan to keep the engagement a secret from everyone had been successful, especially considering that nothing had changed in our relationship. Save for the fact that we sometimes gave each other high five's when no one was looking in order to celebrate our grand accomplishment. Cass had pointed out the other weekend that it was actually easy to hide it from everyone, far easier than it had been for Dick and Barbara to conceal their adoption of Ethan. We had been debating over what kind of cake to get, which somehow had taken precedent over a date, wedding party and all other factors of a wedding.

As I had narrowed my top choices down to red velvet and marble, I had inquired, "Why is that?"

"Everyone's distracted… even us."

If there was one thing I loved about Cass, it was her honesty.

"So… anything new?"

I shrugged as I sat back into the couch, "Not really… except I think I might pick me up one of these home theatre systems on the way home."

Dad nodded, his smile growing before disappearing completely, "No… I meant… I mean if you don't want to talk about it, I understand…"

Sighing, I let my head drop slightly to look at my hands as they rested in my lap. Towards the end of my career as Robin, I had finally confessed to my father the real reason I was distant, why I was skipping school and why I woke most mornings with fresh bruises and bags beneath my eyes. Completely unexpected, he had seemed genuinely accepting of it, almost relieved that I wasn't on the other side of the law.

But I could tell he had been hurt that I had spent so many years lying to him.

To his face.

I stomached a sudden urge to tell him I had proposed to the only woman on Earth who could easily take out the entire League of Assassins after dominating a leaning tower of pancakes at IHOP. Instead, I kept my eyes focused on the calluses on my palms and replied, "No, it's okay… Pretty much all I talk about these days anyway."

"Forget I mentioned it---."

"No," I looked up to him, "Really… Actually there's not much to say…"

He hesitated before tentatively asking, "No leads at all?"

Shaking my head, I admitted, "Many leads, none of them leading anywhere. He… Generally, career criminals want to be caught. They thrive on that confrontation and then the thrill of narrow escapes. They'll leave behind hints to the next crime, even if it's done subconsciously. But with the Joker… he's not in it for the thrill of the chase."

"He just in it for the hell of it."

I nodded, "Pretty much… It's hard to predict what path he'll take because he's completely unpredictable. In the past he's done everything from randomly shooting people as he walked down the street to carrying out elaborate schemes that are planned to perfection… Right now it seems random but…"

"But what?"

After looking at him once more, the words came all too easy, "Right now I think he's just laughing at us."

^V^

"Six-hundred thousand, four hundred and thirty-five…"

"Ever wonder why numbers are numbers, why aren't they words?"

"Six-hundred thousand, four hundred and forty-five…"

"Gosh, it feels like we've been counting for like five hours… but I guess it's only been like two hours but when you're in a warm room it makes it feel longer, like it's been eight hours…"

"Six-hundred thousand, four hundred and fifty-five…"

"Hey, hey, Puddin'? Gimme five! Ha ha!"

"Six-hundred thousand, four hundred and fifty…"

"No, but don't you think it's funny that numbers are numbers? What if like five was Watermelon… or ten was Santa Claus…"

"Six-hundred thousand, four hundred…"

"Or maybe if ten was Peanut Butter and twenty was Porcupines…"

"Six-hundred thousand…"

"And fifty would be Dance Class…"

"… Harley…"

"Yeah, Puddin'?"

The back of my hand colliding with the side of her head sounded loudly in the hotel room but was then lost to her yelp of surprise followed by the crash of her and the chair as they both fell over.

I looked back to the money sitting in my hand sighed before continuing,

"Six-hundred thousand, four hundred and sixty-five…"

Harley peered over the edge of the table as she sat on the linoleum floor. She waited to rise until I had finished counting out four hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars of our hard earned money.

"Although you do have a point, Harl."

"I do?"

After searching the pile of cash yet to be counted, I lined up a five, a ten, a twenty, a fifty and a hundred dollar bill in numerical order. I then located a purple magic marker from my coat pocket, being careful not to grab the recently sharpened vegetable peeler. On the hundred, I drew a stick figure, adorning it with two pointy ears and a jagged edged cape. For the fifty, another stick figure although this one wore only a little mask and mullet. The twenty received a smaller stick figure with an R on his chest while the ten was similar to the hundred with the exception of boobs.

Lastly, the five was decorated with another female stick figure, but a two cup sizes larger.

"I don't get it," Harley declared over looking over each of the bills.

"Of course you don't, kiddo… You see this," I pointed to the largest bill, "Is what I want most."

"A hundred bucks? But you have hundreds of---."

"No!" I slammed my fists on the table hard enough to knock a few stacks out of place.

Harley gulped audibly before taking her lower lip hostage between her little white teeth.

After adjusted the money back to order, I explained, "This… is Batman."

She slowly released her lip before asking, "But I thought that… you know he's…"

"He very well may be but I always thought of myself as an optimist… Life gives you lemons, squeeze the juice into the security guard's eyes and make a run for it…"

After a curt nod, a smile finally began creeping over her lips.

"But unfortunately life may give you lemons but it doesn't give you one hundred dollar bills."

There was another moment of silence before Harley asked, "So… you have to steal them?"

I shook my head at her, tsk-tsking ever so softly, "Silly me, I forget how small your mind is… You're not seeing the big picture, Harl… You have to work your way up, start with the small bills," I pointed to the five, "To get to the big ones," and then to the hundred. "Now, we can take this one away right off the bat, so to speak," I removed the twenty and crumpled it up before tossing it to the floor, "Which leaves us with four…"

"Actually it's a hundred and sixty-five."

I glared and she visibly cowered.

Initially, I had been unable to settle on a plan of action in regards to seeking my revenge upon those in masks and booties. Naturally, it had been very frustrating as I had never faced such a dilemma in my entire life. Planning the agonizing demise of those who opposed me or even worse those stood in the way of wholesome fun, had been second nature to me.

But the very second I had filled that drug store clerk full of hair dye it had all come together. The only way to get to the Bat was to lure him out of his cave and the best way to lure the Bat was with Bat-Bait. Kidnapping sidekicks or police commissioners had always done the trick before but with Gordon dead and Robin's green booties traded in for Daddy's black booties, a slight tweak was needed.

A slight tweak in the form of rather than him finding me, I planned on finding him.

"So, we have to kidnap the Huntress to get to Batman?"

"A nice chat would suffice," I replied as I picked up the five dollar bill. After ripping it into tiny pieces, I flung the bits into air and smiled as they fell back down. "And if that doesn't work, then it's on to the next Bat-Babe…"

After shredding the ten, I proceeded to lift the fifty, crumpling it as I declared, "And then if she doesn't spill the beans, it's on to the Boy Wonder."

"What about the Batman… well the one that's him right now?" she asked quietly.

"Don't fret my pet…" I took the hundred dollar bill into my hand and ripped it in half so that it bisected the stick figure, "We won't forget about him…"

I wasn't sure what bothered me more: the fact that the third Robin had taken the mantle of the Bat or that he had been allowed to live long enough to do so. Although I loathed all minions that stood in the way of my time with my Batsy, the third one had always held a special place in my cold heart. After all, he had single handedly caught me before he had grown his first armpit hair. Even though I had made numerous attempts on his life over the course of time, I had never managed to beat his little green masked face in with a crow bar…

But now, even with him playing dress-up in Daddy's costume, I seemed to be the only one prepared to fight the good fight.

After my court ordered nap had commenced, many of the Rogue's had surfaced for one last hoorah but had ultimately fallen to the masked neighborhood watch before being sent back to Arkham. What was possibly even worse was the fact that no-name rookies managed to bring more disorder and chaos to Gotham with their one-hit wonders than any of the Rogues had in the last decade.

Icarus… setting fire to things…

Hades… dealing drugs…

Pathetic.

And of my former colleagues? Ivy killed a banker. Harvey killed two people and kidnapped two kids. The brainless Scarecrow hadn't so much as scared a parakeet before getting caught. Catwoman no doubt had been de-clawed and reduced to sniffing catnip as a means of entertainment. Poor Eddie had tried another brilliant crime spree but his riddles had been the end of him. Honorable mention might have gone to good old Black Mask save for the fact that he had fallen low enough to get in on sex trafficking.

Most recently had been when Zsasz had his way with a few of his so-called "zombies".

Now there was a real psycho.

It was no wonder Bats gave up on this city. That Gordon lost his will to fight the good fight, even before his body turned against himself. Even my own Harley had lost a big of the life in her eyes…

This city needed a reason to smile again.

"Hey, puddin', why are we counting anyway?"

I cracked my knuckles enthusiastically, "To pay Bo Bo."

"… Who's Bo Bo?"

As sudden rap at the front door caused her to jump slightly and I answered as I rose to my feet, "That is Bo Bo… Be a good girl and let our guest in."

After staring at the neatly organized columns of money, I haphazardly shoved it all into a canvas duffle bag. I had to guesstimate what sized bag, using the age old trick of How many bodies would fit? as a standard. Although it was a tight fit, I was surprised that all of the cash would fit in a two and a half-er.

"Bo Bo, glad you could make it," I declared after finally forcing the zipper closed.

As I turned to face one of my newest allies in the war on crime fighters, I was surprised to see he had been roughed up a bit. If I had cared about his well being I would have asked what had happened but I didn't so I didn't.

Patting the overstuffed bag, I said, "This should be enough to get things set up… and a little extra of course… We're only going to get one shot at this so we might as well go all out!"

"Sure thing, boss."

"Now," I paused before looking to Harley. After grabbing a few hundreds off the table, I handed them to her, "Why don't you go on a little shopping spree, Harl… get something… something that will makes heads turn."

She took the money with a grin before leaning in and kissing my cheek, leaving behind a red smudge, "Ah, puddin', you take such good care of me!"

"Of course, what would I do without you…"

Bo Bo and I watched on as she donned a pair of high heels and a leather jacket before heading to the door, keys in hand. After she began to step out, Harley paused and turned back to me, "Oh... In case I don't get back in time… don't forget to let the Doc out to go to the bathroom, I don't want him messing in the closet like last time."

"Oh course, my sweet."

I let a minute pass before turning to Bo Bo, "I'll have Harley go to Kintley Ave in Sommerset starting Monday… I'll tell her you're going to pretend to mug her in order to lure the Bat-Femme Fatale out… If no one shows let her go, give her a few blocks then do it again. Rinse, wash, repeat… If she does show," I handed him a syringe, "Give her all of that and she should only be able to hit you twice before she konks out. Take her to the address I gave you and I'll meet you there."

Bo Bo nodded before asking quietly, "Anything else?"

"Make sure it's believable... These Bat-folk have a sixth sense when someone's really in trouble…Don't be afraid to rough Harl up… just not the face."

^V^