A/N I had The Worst Time writing this chapter. It had to be done, but thank Heaven it's over. I hope my agony produced something tolerable!

Disclaimer I do not own Batman. Nor do I own the Kelloggs ® brand. (Not that it in any way enters into this chapter. I just thought I'd make certain we were all clear on the subject.)

Chapter 3

DICK: The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

Henry 6, part 2

For once, the front door of Wayne Manor slammed open before Alfred could get to it. "Where's Dick?" Bruce demanded.

"On his trip to the Fishtopia Aquarium with his tutor. Is everything all right, sir?"

"The aquarium…I forgot about that. Probably proof that I'm a lousy guardian."

"Despite the circumstances, I thought it better to let him go as planned."

"Better not to upset him before it became necessary," Bruce agreed.

"And has it become necessary?"

"We're going to have a live-in investigator."

"An investigator, sir?" Alfred could not entirely conceal his alarm.

"Someone from social services – a Miss Somerville. She'll be here twenty-four/seven for two weeks. If, in that time, she finds nothing to complain of, they're willing to drop the case."

"I see…And was that our only option?"

"Yes!" Bruce snapped. "You think I asked for this deal?"

There was a small silence, and then Alfred spoke, his usual calm regained. "I'll have a suite prepared at once. What would you like done about the menu?"

"Nothing. They said we were to follow our normal routine as closely as possible. She eats what we eat."

"And what time will Miss Somerville arrive?"

Bruce glanced at his watch. "In precisely fifty-two minutes."

"Fifty-two minutes? Then you'll have to excuse me, sir, I've a lot to do." Alfred disappeared around a corner, then popped back into view. "I suppose the plan is to convince her that we're a nice, normal, well-adjusted family?"

Bruce groaned and put his hands over his face.

"Come now, sir," Alfred said bracingly. "As my old nurse used to say, it's no use wailing that you've lost the lottery until you've bought your ticket."

------

Bruce settled back in the deep leather chair. All around him rose walls of security monitors that could give an almost comprehensive view of the manor and its grounds. But only the row of screens in front of him was lit, providing a complete view of the front drive, porch, and hall of the manor.

A battered grey Chevy appeared on the drive and pulled to stop in front of the house. A valet was immediately at the driver's door, but he was forced to take a quick step backward as it swung open and the person of Miss Somerville, thickly bundled against the winter weather, emerged. She mounted the steps and tilted her head back to examine the gargoyles mounted over the door. Alfred appeared and the two figures vanished from the outside monitors to appear on the inside ones. Bruce watched as the woman struggled out of a small mountain of winter gear, and followed her progress through the halls as she trailed after Alfred. The butler left her standing alone in a room where she remained motionless, her back to Bruce's view.

"Master Wayne?"

Bruce turned from his silent scrutiny to face his faithful butler.

"She's waiting for you in the green room, sir."

"I know." Bruce waved a hand at the lit screens. "What's your first impression?"

Alfred frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know, sir. She's a difficult woman to read. Of course, I was only with her a few minutes."

"She's going to be a problem," Bruce predicted grimly.

"Only if we let her become one," Alfred insisted. "And toward preventing that end, you had better go down and begin showing her what a nice, normal family life we all lead."

"Right, because we have about as much chance of doing that as of making Lady Liberty disappear from New York Harbor."

"It's happened before, sir." Alfred permitted himself a faint smile. "They do it with mirrors."

The green room was very obviously a lady's room. Decorated in shades of green and cream, its soft charm was augmented by soothing watercolors and fragile furniture. But if delicate was the word to describe the room, it was certainly not the word for the uninvited guest. Dressed in an ill-fitting navy suit, her hair commandeered into a severe bun, and her mouth held in a prim line, the sturdy figure of the social worker was about as attractive as a toad with acne.

Here we go. Bruce strode forward, pasting on a smile usually reserved for the upper echelons of Gotham society. "Miss Somerville, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"How do you do, Mr. Wayne?" she said stiffly.

They extended their hands at the same time – he his right and she her left. There was a staring match, so brief it was almost imagined, and then he switched with a light laugh. "I'm afraid we right-handed people forget the whole world isn't like us. Did you have to use one of those special desks in school?"

"No," she snapped, deepening her glower.

He refused to be cowed. "I would offer a tour, but dinner's in an hour."

She glared at him over the wire rims of her glasses. "Don't you think, Mr. Wayne, that I ought to be introduced to Richard?"

Bruce was stunned by the violence of his urge to rip the woman limb from limb. Keeping the smile on his face with a tremendous effort of will he ground out, "I'm afraid Richard is on a field trip with his tutor. To the aquarium."

"How nice," she murmured, managing to convey the impression that she thought it was anything but. "And during what hours does he usually study?"

"One to four. We've found his focus is best during that time."

"Mmm."

Bruce hadn't known one small sound could be so ominous. And then, to his dismay, he heard the clatter of feet in the hall. "Hey, Bruce!"

Alfred, where are you?

"Apparently the field trip is over." Somerville walked to the door and pulled it open. Alfred was attempting to guide a protesting Dick away down the hall. "Mr. Pennyworth!" With great reluctance, Alfred stopped and turned. "Hadn't you better introduce me?" the social worker demanded.

Alfred gave in gracefully. "Miss Somerville, this is Richard Grayson. Master Dick, this is Miss Somerville."

Something which was probably intended for a smile cracked the contours of the woman's face. "Hello, Richard."

"Hi," he responded uncertainly. And then, with eight-year-old frankness, he blurted out, "Why are you staying with us?"

Her contorted mouth stretched farther. "I'm from social services. I'm here to check up on you."

Dick froze, staring up at her, and Bruce moved to intervene. "Would you excuse us for a moment?" Laying a firm hand on Dick's shoulder he pulled his ward into the nearest room and shut the door.

"Why is she here?" Dick demanded. "I haven't done anything, have I?" He sounded half frightened, half belligerent.

"You haven't done anything," Bruce assured him. "It's me she's here to check up on."

"You?" Dick's eyes grew huge. "Does she know…"

"No," Bruce cut him off. "Social services wants to make sure I'm giving you a good home, that's all."

Dick scowled. "They never checked to make sure the last place was giving me a good home. And why is she staying? I can just tell her."

"It's not quite that simple. Social services needs to have testimony from someone who…"

Dick interrupted, in a hard, accusing voice. "They're going to take me away, aren't they?"

"Only if they find something that makes them think this isn't the best place for you," Bruce hedged.

Dick stared at him, as tense as if her were expecting a blow. "You said I could stay as long as I wanted."

"And I'll do everything in my power to make certain you can." Am I lying?

Either Dick sensed his guardian's private reservations, or he had misgivings of his own. Betrayal flickered across the thin face. "I know this isn't the best place for me. The best place is with my mom…" He hesitated, his breath coming fast. "And she's dead!" he shouted, and ran from the room.

Bruce followed, just in time to see his ward run headlong into the drab figure of the social worker. Dick shoved past her without a word and sped up the stairs.

She raised her eyebrows and, in a voice that made Bruce want to strangle her, asked, "Trouble, Mr. Wayne?"

He glared at her. "The boy just found out he might be taken from his home. I suppose you expected him to celebrate?"

Alfred silently appeared behind the woman, his face a warning. Without another word, Bruce turned back into the library and shut the door. Firmly.

------

Dinner was awkward.

Somerville was five minutes late, having, as she minutely explained, gotten lost between her room and the dining room. "Perhaps you should consider printing small, complimentary guest maps, Mr. Wayne."

Had it come from almost anyone else on the planet, Bruce would have interpreted the remark as a joke. As it was, he found himself stuck between an apology and a comeback about GPS systems, and decided to switch topics entirely. "How are you liking Gotham, Miss Somerville? I understand you arrived only a short time ago."

"Yes. I'm afraid I find it absolutely as ghastly as I did the last time."

Lady Sunshine she's not. "This isn't your first stay in the city?'

"No, I did an internship here as an undergraduate. That's when I first became acquainted with Mr. Judas."

Good guy or not, Judas was not on Bruce's top ten list. "Well, I hope that your accommodations are not classed with the rest of Gotham. Are you finding your room comfortable?"

She stabbed her fork into her macaroni and cheese. "It is a trifle chilly."

Bruce managed a concerned frown. "The entire house is kept at seventy degrees, but I'll have someone check your room immediately. Perhaps a vent is malfunctioning." The silence droned on, until Bruce, grasping at straws, exclaimed, "There's at least one good thing to be said for the weather. We've got unbeatable ski slopes this year."

"I do not see how cavorting about in these arctic temperatures could possibly be conducive to anyone's health."

Bruce, examining the bulky, hideous, and probably scratchy sweater she wore, privately agreed. No, I'm certain you can't. Before he could think of a non-temperature related subject, she took the conversational ball into her own hands.

"Tell me, Richard, what are you studying with your tutor?"

Dick, who had been crunching with deliberate noise through his carrot sticks, shrugged and gulped. "School stuff."

"Math?" The blonde head nodded. "Reading?" Nod. "Science?" Nod. "What are you learning in science?"

There was a pause. "Gravity," he muttered angrily.

"Ah, Mr. Newton's apple." Dick gave her a blank look. "No? Dropping various objects from the leaning tower of Pisa?" she hazarded. He shook his head and licked the cheese sauce off his fork. "What, exactly, have you learned about gravity?" she demanded imperiously.

"The acceleration of Earth's gravity is nine point eight meters per second squared." he replied, and stabbed his spoon into his silver dessert bowl.

That's my boy. Bruce felt himself starting to smirk, but it was wiped off by Dick's next words.

"You're not very smart, are you?"

"Richard!" Bruce snapped before Somerville could get her mouth open. "Apologize."

There was a painful silence while Richard screeched his spoon across the bottom of his bowl. He stood up and without looking at anyone mumbled, "I'm sorry…" He turned and walked out of the dining room, muttering under his breath, "…that you're stupid."

Bruce winced and, darting a look in the social worker's direction, saw that she also had heard the end of the apology. "Believe it or not, Miss Somerville, he doesn't usually act like this."

She gave another one of her sickly little smiles. "Mr. Wayne, you do understand that you're supposed to be impressing me?" Without another word, she stood and left.

------

"That might have gone better." Alfred seated himself on the far side of his desk.

The billionaire didn't look away from his computer screen. "You're telling me. Less than twenty-four hours and I already want to murder her. Maybe a little background check will give me a legal reason to."

"Investigating the investigator?"

"Her presence here is just a little too convenient…for somebody."

"Do you know," Alfred said slowly, "I get the feeling that she's purposely attempting to make herself disagreeable."

"Alfred…harpies don't have to try. It just comes naturally."

"No doubt I imagined that deliberate air behind her conversation at dinner."

Bruce finally looked away from the computer. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Alfred sighed. "I don't know…I confess I'm so dismayed that I don't quite know what I think about anything."

Bruce stared down at his keyboard. "Did I do the right thing to let her come?"

"As you said, sir, there was no other choice."

"None that would let Dick stay."

Alfred stared distantly at nothing in particular. "I would be greatly grieved to see him go."

Bruce waited until the butler met his eyes. "You once told me it had to be bigger than that."

"As I recall, I made that specific remark after you endangered dozens of lives and damaged hundreds of thousands of dollars in public property. The situation now is somewhat different."

"Is it really?" Bruce pushed himself away from the desk and walked to the other half of the room, where the piano sat gleaming. He gently brushed his fingers across the smooth ivory. "How many lives is Batman worth, Alfred?"

"There's no way to answer that, Master Wayne. But it's a choice you may one day have to face."

Bruce turned to look at him. "Choice?"

"Between the life that you can't see…and the one that you can."

------

Lieutenant Gordon sat wearily at his desk. It had been a very bad day. A drunk driving accident down on fiftieth had left two teens dead and another in critical condition. A bank robbery on the south side had left its vaults a hundred thousand poorer and the police without leads. Not to mention the day's usual quota of assaults, stick-ups, and…

"Lieutenant Gordon?" The timid voice of his sergeant broke through Gordon's glum reverie.

"Yes?" he snapped.

"A car bomb, sir, vice president of the Gladelands Corporation."

Gordon massaged the bridge of his nose. "He dead?"

"No…his chauffeur was bringing the car around."

"I hope he got hazard pay."

"Yes, sir. We found this tacked up near the parking spot."

Gordon accepted the clear evidence bag and stared at the brightly colored playing card. "Well whattaya know? Then again, who else would start the holidays with such a bang?."

To be continued…

A/N Sorry that I don't have individual responses up for the reviews. I'll try to add them on tomorrow, but I wanted to post this tonight, so I could keep my five day update promise 8) Thanks very much to all who reviewed the last chapter!