My sincere apologies about taking so long to post this chapter. It wasn't working for me so I ran from it. I guess I ran much further than I intended! The next chapter should not be so long in coming.

East Coast of India - Eight months ago

By the time she returned home, Selina had almost convinced herself that everything with Isha and Shanti was okay. Shanti's husband was friendly enough; when they arrived a month ago, he greeted them warmly, seemingly happy that his wife's mother had suddenly arrived but there was an angry gleam in his eye that both Bruce and Selina noticed. It was because of him that Selina and Bruce lingered in the small seaside town. Both unwilling to abandon Isha to an unknown fate.

Slowly, Selina climbed the narrow stairway that led to their small beachside apartment, forcing herself to present a bright expression so that Helena wouldn't sense her worry. Upon finding that the cozy flat was empty, her facade relaxed and she allowed herself the luxury of slamming the front door shut.

The small apartment was nothing fancy with two small bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and what Bruce called a 'cozy' living area. But what the apartment lacked in charm, it made up for with the breathtaking view. Selina stepped outside onto the spacious walkout. What some might call a terrace was really an open space connected to their second story apartment. It was the feature that enticed Bruce and Selina to rent the place. The gorgeous view of the Indian Ocean did little to lessen her trepidation but the sight of Bruce and Helena playing the beach helped considerably.

Hours earlier, Selina had left them both sleeping. Helena had recently taken to protesting naptime. Bruce, happy for an excuse to take a nap, offered to lay down with her so Selina would have an afternoon to herself. Selina, giving him a knowing grin before kissing his cheek, was not fooled.

Selina returned inside to put on her swimsuit.

The beach was populated with tourists, but not overly crowded. She found Bruce helping Helena build a sandcastle. 'Helping' meant he was building it as Helena ran around throwing sand into the ocean.

"Very nice," Selina said, squatting down to assess his handiwork.

"Yeah," Bruce said, his gaze was fixed on making the structure as sturdy as possible. "She has a real talent for castle building."

"I see that."

Helena ran to Selina, throwing her arms around her mother before returning to stand at the edge of the surf.

"Were you able to get her to wear sunscreen?" Selina asked.

"Barely."

"I see her hat is tied on with a knot that a sailor couldn't untie."

"It's staying on, isn't it?" Bruce looked up at her, his smiling countenance quickly turning concerned. He made no comment as Helena excitedly returned with her pail full of water which she wanted to dump over the sand castle. Bruce persuaded her to pour the water into the moat he had built around the castle. Selina smiled at his efforts to preserve the intricate castle he'd painstakingly built.

They played with Helena until the surf washed away the castle. When Helena spied some cows who had wandered onto the beach, they walked over to take a look with Bruce darting questioning glances in her direction. She'd gotten sloppy in the hide her feelings department. Helena, tired from the play, reached up to Bruce for him to carry her.

"How were things in town?" Bruce asked, as the three walked back to their apartment.

"I suspect he's on his best behavior."

"Maybe we're wrong about him," Bruce said.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we were?"

He pulled her closer to him, dropping a kiss on her head. Both aware that their instincts about Shanti's husband were not wrong.

Later, Selina woke to the pale light of a full moon and the sound of the ocean. She moved to curl up against Bruce and was not surprised to find his side of the bed empty. As she became more alert, she heard the soft, indistinct sound of his voice from out on the terrace. She hovered over sleep, content to listen to the quiet but comforting sound of him as he worked on his newest project.

Her phone lit up, silently indicating a text.

r u ever coming home? Ever?

Ollie. She rolled over onto her stomach and stared at the message; brief, to the point, and crushing. She had no idea how to respond so she opted for the best nonresponse.

U ok?

That was always a tricky question with Ollie.

fool me, you do not

Selena smiled. The smile quickly fading as she contemplated her answer. She opted for truth.

I don't know

And she didn't. She did know that she and Bruce couldn't continue wandering aimlessly around the world. Their sweet toddler was growing far too fast and she deserved a home for building good memories.

YOU don't know!? What does baby daddy think?

The baby daddy was far too complicated to communicate to Ollie via text.

U dont even wanna know ;)

From there, their exchange turned lighthearted and fun. But even though he was a longtime heroin addict, Ollie was still no fool. He knew he'd touched a nerve, and, friend that he was, he wouldn't press her.

After they shared their goodbyes, Selina was left feeling melancholy. Without moving, she stared at her phone's screen, unable to shake the worry, the guilt that accompanied the thought of Ollie alone in Gotham. He'd only recently returned, dropped off by Daryl who had found him strung out in Memphis.

Living the life of a hippie had suited him well but old demons could not be vanquished so easily. Striking up a friendship with a woman whose own struggle with heroin rivaled his own proved to be his undoing. Half a year ago, the two had left the refuge of the commune, and quickly resumed their deadly habit.

I'm ok. Stop worrying!

And with that, Selina missed him terribly. The last time she had seen him was when she left him in the rehab/commune in New Mexico. Good thing, too, because he never would have survived Bane taking over Gotham. Junkies had not fared well during that time.

Sleep was now an impossibility so she got up, checked in on Helena then joined Bruce on the terrace. Bruce sat at a rickety plastic table, his laptop bright in the darkness. The desire to tell Bruce about Ollie, about Daryl, was strong. She knew what he would do and what he wouldn't do. He would be polite and welcoming of both of them, for her. He wouldn't make a big deal about their less than stellar pasts. He was, after all, a very decent man.

Resting her chin on his shoulder, she looked at the screen seeing Raj's specs that they had gone to some trouble to reclaim for him. Her fingers rested on his neck, massaging lightly. In response, Bruce leaned his head slightly, encouraging her to keep at it as he continued his conversation.

Lucius Fox, Selina assumed, was on the other end of the call. Fox, in Gotham, was working on international patents ensuring that Raj's designs would not be appropriated by unsavory businesses whose eye was on profit and not humanitarian endeavors.

Bruce was saving people instead of the world, and it impressed Selina more than she would let on. Still, impressed as she was, Bruce's conversation was boring so sat on the edge of the terrace, enjoying the middle of the night air.

When he ended the call with Fox, she turned toward him, ready to talk. He met her eyes. At her expression, his brows lifted in question.

But she turned to look back at the ocean. Telling him about Ollie and Daryl would lead to questions she wasn't ready to make, inferences about her life she didn't want made. She simply didn't want him to know how bad things had been for her when she was young.

She rose, reaching her hand out to him. "Come to bed," she said softly.

Accustomed to her mysterious ways, he didn't say anything. Taking her hand, he led her to their bedroom where Selina communicated her feelings the only way she could.

Gotham - The Present

The usual thrum of activity was notably absent as Lucius Fox made his way through the halls of Wayne Enterprises on a quiet Saturday morning. He didn't notice, though, too preoccupied with his recent conversation with Mittal who, like Fox, scrambled to reschedule meetings with the carefully selected group of investors. Wayne had amassed quite a group of wealthy individuals eager to spend money on humanitarian projects that would decidedly not provide a return on their investment.

The point was to find a way for mega corporations like Wayne Enterprises to partner with small businesses in developing nations, to foster employment and other opportunities for those in need. It was tricky work, persuading wealthy CEOs to look beyond their own inflated salaries and bloated bonuses to provide assistance to those that couldn't possibly repay them. Tricky indeed, but Bruce managed to convince a select few that it was the right thing to do. Fox had been skeptical of Bruce's ability to be nonviolently persuasive but he shouldn't have doubted him. He was, after all, Thomas Wayne's son.

Nodding to the few employees who shared his love of Saturday morning work, Lucius continued to his office not wanting to field questions from concerned people who couldn't help but notice Wayne's sudden disappearance. They had become accustomed to him being an integral part of Wayne operations. Most were young enough that rumors of his unsavory past were dismissed because the man of the rumors was quite different from the dedicated head of Wayne Enterprises newest division centered solely on humanitarian projects.

Bruce's time in India seemed to have a profound effect on him. After his most recent homecoming, Bruce returned to his family's company. Eschewing a high profile position, he focused not on save the world projects but on how to make the world a better place world was not focused on ridding the world of criminals but on preventing young people from falling into the criminal life by targeting the problems that led desperate people into desperate actions. The technologies being developed were clever but basic. No risk of someone highjacking it to make a bomb which was always nice.

Just as he reached his office, Lucius was met by one of the young engineers tasked with the Mittal project.

"Wayne's here," was all she said before returning to her own office.

Surprised, Fox turned and headed away from the executive offices. Not only had Bruce eschewed a high profile position but he had been adamant about not displacing anyone and had been content to accept whatever workspace was available. It was a big space, windowless and thoroughly unglamorous. If memory served, it used to be a copy room back in the days when a such a thing was necessary.

Fox paused just inside, giving Bruce time to finish his phone call. From the sound of it, Bruce was calming the last of the investors who had been offended at his sudden departure from DC.

"Is he back on board?" Fox asked when Bruce's call ended.

"Maybe," Bruce replied, looking irritated at the effort.

"You've made considerable progress in shaking off that bad reputation you cultivated for yourself. I just hate to see people think they are proven right."

Bruce nodded, rubbing his eyes and Lucius realized how exhausted the man looked. Lucius also became aware of a small face peeking out at him from under Bruce's desk. When he smiled at her, she promptly disappeared.

"Who have we here?" He asked, settling into a chair, giving Helena a chance to warm to him.

The next time when she peeked at him, Fox was ready with a funny face that made her giggle before retreating back under the desk.

"Come out and say hello to Mr. Fox, Helena," Bruce said, gently coaxing her from beneath the desk.

"Oh," Fox said, when he finally got a good look at her. "She looks just like Martha!"

Bruce looked at her closely, searching her face for signs of his mother. Fox felt a brief moment of sadness for the man who had been denied the chance to know the lovely Martha Wayne as a person other than a beloved mother.

"It's her impish grin," Fox mused. "Your mother had a impetuous side to her that

"I didn't know you knew her so well."

"Knew her before your father did. She and my ex-wife, Alice, were close friends since they were teenagers. We all went to the same college. Alice and I got married and Martha ventured off to join the peace corps and found your father."

Fox smiled, thinking back to those early days when they were just two young couples in love. His eye fell on Helena, sparking vivid memories of the past that for just a moment didn't feel like they occurred fifty years ago.

"Fifty years…" he muttered softly, then looked up to meet Bruce's very interested gaze. Lucius knew the man hadn't received many stories about his parents' own past. Everyone who had known him, knew that one did not mention the parents to Bruce. At least not in any extended fashion.

But Helena had no interest in stories about her grandmother. Sensing her father's attention was elsewhere, she tugged on his arm. When she didn't the response she wanted, she fell into a full-fledged, bona fide tantrum that children her age excel at.

"She's not usually like this," Bruce explained as Helena threw herself on the floor. He lifted her up but she relaxed her body, sliding out of his grasp back onto the floor. "Selina's better at dealing with this," Bruce said, sheepishly.

"I'm sure she is." Lucius couldn't help but grin at Bruce's difficulty wrangling a three year old. The sight of Batman being bested by a tiny girl was a wondrous sight indeed. "I find it best to just ride it out. She'll get tired of it."

Bruce gave him a doubtful look.

"I have grandkids, you know."

"Really?"

"I have been known to leave this building occasionally." Fox smiled as he leaned back in the chair signalling to Bruce that a little girl screaming on the floor wasn't anything to kick up a fuss about. Bruce sat back at his desk and they resumed their conversation. Despite the commotion, Lucius enjoyed the opportunity to talk about the Martha and Thomas Wayne he had known before they became parents and pillars of Gotham society.

"They really would be pleased with what you're accomplishing here. How you are using this company to foster change," Fox said. "It's not the Wayne Enterprises your ancestors built, it is yours. Yours to keep, improve and…" He winked at Helena who had quieted but remained on the floor, "...pass on."

East Coast of India - Eight months ago

Bruce and Selina relaxed on the walk-out of their small oceanside apartment. It was late evening and quite dark save the light from Selina's e-reader. Bruce gazed out in the direction of the ocean which couldn't be seen but was certainly heard. His attention, however, was not on the calming surf, or the cool summer breeze, but on the flurry of ideas that working with Raj had elicited in him.

Idly, his fingers caressed Selina's legs that rested on his lap as he considered the success of Mittal's project. The man had set about to figure out a way to save his factory, save his city, and by God, the man had succeeded. And no mask was needed.

Something long dormant but not forgotten had awakened inside Bruce.

"What do you think about going home?" He asked Selina before the second guessing began.

She was quiet for a moment. "What do you think about it?" She countered without looking up.

Bruce pushed aside his irritation at her typically evasive response. "No, really, Selina, tell me."

Selin set aside her reader, looking at him closely. "I never meant to be gone forever."

"I did." He didn't have to explain what had changed. She knew. She probably knew before he did.

"What do you have in mind?" She asked.

He considered the question, seeing the layers of queries in those few words.

"Instead of fighting crime," Bruce said. "I think we could fight poverty."

Selina laughed, not unkindly. "You never do like to do things half-way, do you?"

He grinned, not at all put off by her teasing. His goal sounded drastic and dramatic, but why exercise restraint when the world needed saving?

"Alfred wanted me to use the considerable resources of Wayne Enterprises but I couldn't get past Batman."

"You can't just throw money at it…" she began.

"You're saying money won't solve the problem?" Bruce kidded.

"As if I would ever say that!" She smiled, but the smile quickly faded as her mind went places he couldn't begin to guess.

"You know what poverty is?" Selina asked after a few moments, meeting his concerned eyes. "It isn't just lack of money, it's lack of...hope. Feeling like you're in the world but not of it. Feeling very alone because you're surrounded by desperate people who won't hesitate to take anything you might happen to earn."

"Or steal," she added.

"Any ideas?" He asked. "You're the expert here."

"No...but I do know that we loved it when do-gooders ventured into our part of the Narrows. We took advantage of their good will. They may have offered something long-term but we were all about picking their pockets, getting their credit card numbers, stealing their cars..."

"Not everyone is like that."

"True. So those are the people you should focus on. Some of the most depressing situations were people trying to live honestly, holding down two to three jobs just to barely scrape by."

Bruce nodded, seeing more problems than solutions. And with that, Bruce's deliberation deepened, focusing on how to utilize Wayne Enterprise's considerable resources but without depleting them and putting his family's company in a vulnerable position. Though initially hesitant to embark on another of Bruce's 'save the world projects,' Lucius Fox was now firmly committed to the enterprise.

It was late in the afternoon during their latest conference call when Bruce received an unexpected text from Selina.

Pick us up at the marketplace

Without hesitation, Bruce ended the call and hurried out to meet them.

Bruce had a suspicion about what prompted Selina to make the change in her and Helena's travel plans. As soon as he saw Selina's face, his suspicion was confirmed. Though she tried to hide it for Helena's sake, he could see that she was furious - more angry than he'd ever seen her. Even more worrisome to him was that Helena seemed uncharacteristically subdued, clinging to her mother.

"What happened?" He asked, taking Helena who wrapped her arms around his neck.

"We were right about him," was all Selina could spit out as she climbed into the SUV. The ride home was quiet with Bruce trying to distract Helena with cheery talk. Selina stared out the window, her fist clenched on her lap.

Much later, after Helena had fallen into a troubled sleep, Selina vented her anger and frustration.

"We were all there... the whole family and Helena and me and he comes in and I could tell from Shanti's face that something was very wrong. So I thought if we stayed, he wouldn't do anything but he was drunk. Isha tried to get me to leave but I...I just couldn't." Selina's fist clenched as she began pacing the small room.

Bruce waited as she took a few calming breaths before she continued.

"He dragged Shanti into the other room," she said, her voice flat. "We could hear him yelling at her. Then... then, the unmistakable sound of him striking her. Bruce, everything in me is screaming to get up and kick the ever loving shit out of that bastard but Isha's pleading with me to just leave because I'll only make things worse. But sweet Rishi, who tries so hard to be the man of the house when he's father's away, is holding my arm wanting me to stay."

She sat back down next to him, he took her hand as she met his eyes.

"So I just sat there, holding Helena - who definitely knew something terrible was happening - feeling like the worst mother ever as I listen to Murad slap his pregnant wife around. Then I look at Shanti's kids and feel horrible for wanting to spare my privileged kid the reality of their lives."

"Oh, Bruce, they were all looking so scared. I asked Isha if money would make him go away so I gave Rishi the little cash I had to give to his father. That seemed to satisfy him so he left. I can't believe I paid off that asshole!"

She gave Bruce a helpless look.

"It's killing me that I didn't go in there and show him a woman who knows how to fight back. God, I can't believe I just sat there."

"You did the right thing, Selina," Bruce said. "They have to live with him. It would've made things much worse."

"Their lives would be better if he was dead."

Bruce looked at her sharply. "What are you saying?"

She shrugged, looking away.

"Selina, he is those kids' father."

"He's just the sperm donor!" Selina jumped up to resume her furious pacing. "He's not a father! All he contributes to that family is fear! Bruce, believe me, some kids are better off without a person like that in their lives."

"You don't get to make that decision."

"Why not? You seemed to be pretty okay with making decisions for the good people of Gotham."

"I never murdered anyone!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Selina said, with angry flippancy.

"You're kidding, right?"

She crossed her arms and regarded him steadily. Her gaze never wavering from his.

"How are you going to do it, Selina?" Bruce went to her, so very aware that they both had different methods of handling difficult problems. "Shoot him? Stab him?"

"I would think you would jump at the chance to take care of a person who terrorizes those who are weaker than him. A vicious bully is what he is and I think we both know how to deal with that sort!"

"So, you'll kill him and I'll Just help you dump the body somewhere?"

She looked away.

Sensing her uncertainty, Bruce pressed further. "Don't expect me to help. This is one thing I will not do for you."

"Fine, I can take care of it on my own." Selina turned away but he caught her arm, turning her back to face him.

"No, Selina, we figure this out."

"I'm sure the local police will be all over this! Once they arrest and imprison him, we'll just dump Isha and Shanti and the kids at one of the many women's shelters I've seen around then we can hightail it back to Gotham where we can focus on saving more worthy people."

"Don't!" Bruce said, his frustration at the situation boiling into anger at her. "These family dynamics are complicated, we'll have to find a local attorney and-"

"Bruce, this is the poverty you wish to fight! It's messy and complicated and there are no easy answers but we have to act. We have to help," Selina trailed off, her earlier vehemence fading. "Don't you see, Bruce? Shanti is reliving her mother's life. It doesn't end. Shanti's daughters will probably end up with men like that thinking that is normal. Her sons will beat their wives. It needs to stop!"

"I understand that, Selina. Really, I do."

She rubbed his arm. "It's a shitty situation, Bruce. But we knew that."

They sat together in silence, feeling helpless. A feeling very much hated by the both of them.

"I don't expect you to kill him," Selina said, turning to him. "How about you just beat the shit out of him? Just once? I'd do it but I'm worried with his ingrained misogyny that he'd just take it out on her later. But you? You could really put the fear of God in him. Please?"

"How about I try talking to him?" Bruce asking, imagining a nonviolent way to deal with a violent man.

"Talking?"Selina smiled, her skepticism evident in her eyes. "You?"

"I can be a persuasive talker."

The next morning, Bruce went to the house to give the man a good talking to. Isha answered the door, averting her face and when Bruce saw the damage, his intention to talk vanished. Apparently, Shanti's husband hadn't been content with taking out his anger on his wife and included his mother-in-law. The worst had obviously been rendered after Selena had left because there was no way she would not violently react to the damage that had been inflicted to Shanti and Isha.

Bruce asked after the children, Isha assured him they were fine. Seemingly calm, he looked them over, making sure there were no broken bones. After assuring himself that no further medical attention was needed, he asked Isha where to find her son-in-law. Without hesitation, she told him.

Bruce found the man at a nearby street in a small shop that doubled as something resembling a bar. He surveyed the dark room, noting that it was a very sorry place indeed. After confirming that the few men milling about posed no danger, Bruce approached Murad. Murad looked up, surprised, then smiled when he recognized Bruce. Gesturing for Bruce to join him for a drink, Murad started to wave to the bartender but Bruce grabbed his arm, wrenching it behind his back. Murad cried out in pain. The sound was a satisfying one. After fixing a steady glare at the other patrons to warn them from interfering, Bruce began hitting him. Bare fisted, he pummeled him.

"Never again!" He hissed, hitting him until the man sagged to the floor. Bruce let go of his arm, letting him fall. He crouched down next to him so the Murad would better hear him. "You hit your wife, Isha, or any of your kids, I will come back and you won't like what I do to you then."

As he left, Bruce took a dishtowel from the horrified bartender, wiping the blood off his hands. "Sell him another drink and I'll come back and do the same to you. Got it?"

"Happy?" Bruce asked Selina later as she cleaned his knuckles.

"Yes," she smiled, and kissed him. "But he'll do it again."

"I know." Bruce sighed. "When we go back to Gotham, we should take them with us…"

"Take?" Selina asked, her brow raising slightly. "Maybe we should ask if that's what they want to do. We can't bend them to our will just because it would make us feel better."

The next few weeks were spent in secret talks with Isha and Shanti as they considered leaving India and Murad. Trusting that Bruce and Selina would not abandon them in a new country, Isha was on board with the idea. Shanti, not so much until one night Murad got wind of what was happening and beat Shanti so badly she miscarried. At six months, it was painful and life threatening for her. If not for Bruce's paying for better medical care, she would not have survived.

Within a week, Murad disappeared.

"Is he coming back?" Murad's eldest son, Rishi, asked.

"No," Bruce answered, feeling the first twinge of regret as he looked into the eyes of the boy who would probably never see his father again. The freighter that Bruce had thrown Murad on was bound for Rio and by the time Murad ever figured out how to get back to India, his family would be long gone.

The boy studied Bruce for a moment, before a relief flooded his features. "Good."

Gotham - The Present

As soon as Bruce Wayne and John Blake left his apartment, Bobby spent the rest of the night calling old friends. Even though their once tight knit group had lost contact over the years, each friend expressed sadness to hear of Ollie's death. No one was particularly surprised at the news until they learned that he was murdered. The shocked responses were all the same: who would hurt Ollie?

With thoughts of Ollie and their shared past, the old craving gnawed at him. The sleepless night thinking about old times didn't help. It had been a long time since Bobby felt the compulsion that had once threatened to destroy him so strongly.

After the sun rose, he jogged to an early morning meeting needing the support that strangers like him could provide. The meeting helped and Bobby felt better when he returned home to spend the rest of the morning fielding calls as news of Ollie's passing spread. With each call, he asked if anyone had talked to Ollie, if anyone knew what he'd been up to and if anyone thought of anything, no matter how insignificant, to give him a call.

It was almost noon when he mustered the courage to go to the Quad. Since no cab drivers would venture so deep into the Narrows, Bobby walked. The Quad, as it was known on the street, was a haven for addicts and had been for years. For street people, the buildings were sacrosanct, the only rule was not to do anything that would attract the attention of the authorities.

The Quad consisted of a group of four buildings that was once an ambitious housing project that, over time, fell into disrepair until it was a vacant shell, forgotten by the city but not forgotten by the current squatters that haunted it like ghosts. A bystander passing by would have no idea that dozens of people existed within the crumbling walls.

Not wanting to go inside, Bobby lingered in the courtyard waiting for someone to emerge. He'd only been inside the big building once and that was enough.

"Is Toby around?" Bobby asked a woman who wandered outside.

She looked him over warily until she decided he was not a threat.

"Twenty?" She asked, hopefully.

Bobby nodded, passing her the money. "Tell him Bobby needs to see him."

As she disappeared inside, Bobby noticed a faded W that was etched in the stone near the entrance of the tallest building. Finding the cleanest bench in the courtyard, Bobby sat down hoping it wouldn't collapse under his weight.

It had five years since he set foot inside when he had accompanied Selina to find Ollie who'd gone on a bender. Toby was the one who had found Selina, telling her Ollie needed help and if Toby thought someone was in bad shape, that meant someone was likely going to die soon.

Selina, being familiar with the layout, led them to where Ollie was holed up. Bobby never asked how she knew which apartment Ollie would be in as there had to be hundreds in the quartet of buildings. As they made their way through the darkened halls to the fifth floor where few junkies expended the effort to climb the stairs, Bobby was struck by how wretched a place this was and if he wavered in his commitment to sobriety, one trick he would employ was to remember the bleak atmosphere.

They found Ollie, crouched in a corner. When he saw her, Ollie cried. Selina, accustomed to his behavior, calmly took him in her arms and held him, her hand smoothing back his filthy hair. He sobbed against her, holding her tightly, murmuring how sorry he was for everything. Such was the way with Ollie, he'd be relatively fine for a few months until he inexplicably crashed and burned.

Bobby's sponsor knew of a commune in New Mexico that might help so he and Selina hauled Ollie across the country. The commune, situated in the mountains near Taos, was like a sanctuary. Bobby, still finding his way in the world of sobriety, decided to stay with Ollie while Selina, having business in Gotham, returned home. A month after she left, when he couldn't take any more campfire songs, Bobby made plans to leave but just as he was about to board the train, there was a breaking news story that a maniac had taken over Gotham.

"Hey, Bobby!" Toby called out as he shuffled slowly across the courtyard. Toby was Ollie's best drug buddy and was the sort of person Ollie would have become if not for Selina and Daryl's frequent interventions. For whatever reason, those two always had his back. When one was away, it fell to the other to keep Ollie alive.

Toby looked, more or less, the same; too skinny, unwashed, and very jumpy. Not caring about the filth, Bobby hugged his old friend; the embrace heartfelt. He'd been through a lot with this guy.

"Still straight?" Toby asked, taking the pack of cigarettes Bobby had brought for him.

Bobby laughed, knowing Toby wasn't referring to his sexuality. "Almost gone a decade."

"That's good, man! So you're not here for a taste then?"

Bobby shook his head. "I got news that I didn't want you to hear through the vine." He indicated they should sit. "It's about Ollie."

Toby's reaction to the news was exactly what Bobby expected. Not good. The two had been friends since they were teens. Bobby patted his back as Toby sobbed.

"He's my boy," Toby said later. "Why'd someone do that to him?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you might have an idea what he was up to."

"I don't know what he was doing but he sure as hell was spooked about something," Toby said, wiping his eyes. "I mean more scared than usual but also angry. I never really saw him mad so it made an impression."

"Did he say why?"

"I think so," Toby said, looking off trying to remember.

It was very likely the conversation took place after a hit so Bobby didn't expect Toby to accurately recollect whatever was happening with Ollie.

"He was going on about how some people treat us like we're nothing." Toby tried to light his cigarette, his shaking hands unable to navigate the flame to the tip.

"Us?" Bobby asked as he took the lighter.

"You know...street people," Toby said, taking a deep drag. "Nobodies."

"He showed me a picture of a girl and asked if I'd ever seen her around."

"Blonde girl?"

"Yeah. He and Selina were checking with shelters around town looking for her."

"Why? Who is she?"

Toby shrugged. "Ollie just said she's one of us. He got that look in his eye. You know the one he got before he went off on one of his things."

"Yeah, I know it," Bobby said.

Toby looked to the building, he hands shaking as he wiped them on his pants to calm his fidgeting legs. Bobby knew he'd gotten all he would from Toby.

"Where is he?" Toby asked.

"The morgue, I guess."

"I'm going to put together a thing for him."

"That's good, Toby. He'd like that."

"Ollie was always afraid of dying alone and forgotten," Toby said, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Like he never existed at all."

Bobby nodded, understanding perfectly the feeling. His time living on the streets gave him plenty of opportunities to mull over his insignificant place in a crowded and cold city. He passed Toby a twenty which didn't bring out Toby's customary pleased reaction. Toby stared at the bill, shaking his head, but he pocketed it. With a last lingering embrace, Toby retreated back inside the Quad.

Bobby hurried home, eager to get changed. For Selina, he donned his new Tom Ford pullover and trousers. Selina was the one who got him out of jeans and flannel, telling him that if you looked good, dressed nice, and acted like you belonged, you could fit in anywhere. Her advice kept them from starving when they had fled for a new life in Vegas. One of their first stops was Neiman's where Selina shoplifted them proper outfits. The clothes were transformative for them both. Shedding their faded and torn jeans and threadbare T-shirts and donning fashionable, flattering clothes almost made them feel like they were regular people. Almost.

Even as young as they had been, no one questioned their presence as they ventured to hotels that were favored by business types to take advantage of the complimentary food and drinks. Selina was far bolder of the two. Using the excursions as research and with all the bravado of a young woman with nothing to lose, she brazenly introduced herself to businessmen and women, engaging them in extended conversations as she observed their mannerisms, how they talked, what they drank. She liked seeing how far she could get, talking about businesses she knew nothing about, about vacation spots she'd never heard of, making note of when her ruse was on the edge of exposure.

On his way to the hospital, Bobby stopped by a florist, picking up a bright bouquet of spring flowers. Bobby never thought flowers were all that threatening but the security guard outside Selina's hospital room seemed to think differently.

The expressionless man regarded the bouquet suspiciously as he spoke to someone through his com. He described Bobby and then waited a few moments for a response. As they waited, Bobby glanced around seeing another guard who watched the only other entrance to hospital unit.

"You may go in, Mr. Gibson."

"Please let Mr. Wayne know that I might have some information for him," Bobby said.

"Mr. Wayne will be here soon," the guard replied. "You can tell him then."

Seeing Selina was unsettling. The woman with the bruised face, laying so still was so far removed from the vibrant woman he knew all too well.

"I brought you flowers," he said to her, setting the bouquet on the tray table near the bed. "They're yellow and purple like that awful comforter you used to have. Remember that?"

He sat on the chair near her bed, feeling awkward. Helpless Selina was not something he had been prepared for. Selina was the strongest person he'd ever known. When they were in Vegas, he still had a habit to feed so he fell back to turning tricks but, unlike in Gotham, he had no pimp which was great for the money but not so great for the security. When one of his Johns got too rough with him, Selina could always be counted on to take care of the guy.

"Hey, Bobby!" DeeDee greeted, coming over to give him a quick hug. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah," Bobby said, returning her embrace. "This is not the way I'd thought I'd see you again."

"Guess not."

"Is she in a coma?"

"No," DeeDee said, pulling up another chair to sit beside him. "She's just getting herself together."

He didn't believe her. "Is her head okay?"

"Has it ever been?" DeeDee smiled. "Really, Bobby, she's going to be fine. She's been out for five days. She'll wake up when she's ready."

"That doesn't seem right."

"The body takes care of itself."

"What about the mind?" Bobby mused.

"That's up to her."

DeeDee's calmness comforted him. If she wasn't worried about Selina, then his friend would be okay. At least physically.

"Did you know who he was?" Bobby whispered, feeling guilty but dying to know what DeeDee knew.

"Yeah."

"Well? How does that happen?" Bobby asked. "What's she doing with a guy like that?"

"I think they met when she was robbing him."

"Duh," Bobby said, affecting an exaggerated expression. "But how does it go from that to having a baby and being all...together?"

DeeDee shrugged. "You know Selina's not big on talking about feelings,"

Bobby nodded.

"I thought they stuck together because of Helena," DeeDee said. "But after spending some time with him, I don't think that's it."

Bobby leaned closer.

DeeDee looked around to make sure no one was near enough to eavesdrop.

"I got here really early this morning, like six, and he was sleeping in here," she said, her voice low. "Well, not really sleeping just sitting there in the dark all brooding. I felt like I was intruding on an intimate moment."

"He does seem worried," Bobby said. "He and his friend are looking into who did this. I think he understands Selina's aversion to cops."

DeeDee nodded. "The nurses are fascinated by him. They say he's spent several nights here with her, holding her hand, just waiting for her to open her eyes."

"If I had that face to look at, I'd open mine!" Bobby joked.

"Have you seen them? The nurses?" DeeDee grinned. "I tell you night shift nurses don't usually pretty up this much when they're working."

Through the open door, they saw Bruce walk in accompanied by a man and a woman.

"Speaking of cops," Bobby said, able to identify the law even when they weren't dressed in uniform. He'd been nabbed a few times in his hustling days. "They're only looking into it because of Wayne."

"Maybe," DeeDee replied. "Bruce does have a lot of influence."

"Bruce?" Bobby was impressed with her familiarity.

"Oh, we're tight now." DeeDee laughed. "We talked. He asked about the kids my job. He's very well mannered."

"Aren't all rich people 'well mannered'?"

"I'm mean he's not fake polite. He's..." DeeDee paused, searching for the right word. "He's…courteous. Like when he heard I was an RN, he asked me to sit in with him and the doctor this morning. He didn't have to do that."

"So he's nicer than her," Bobby said. "That's no surprise."

The woman detective carried a laptop case. Bruce gestured for the three of them to go into the adjoining waiting room.

"I'm going to see what they're looking at," Bobby said. "Maybe I can help."

In the waiting room, the three of them were standing around a table where the detective had set up the laptop. Bruce, the only one who noticed Bobby's entrance, stood aside so Bobby could see the screen.

When Ollie took a hit off the crack pipe, Bobby shook his head knowing Selina would have let him have it for that.

"I can't figure out why Selina would take Ollie along to something like this," Bobby commented when the video was over.

"Why do you say that?" The woman asked. "And, who are you?"

Bruce quickly made introductions. At the mention of the Commissioner, Bobby's eyes widened in surprise. Bruce's influence was indeed great.

"Because," Bobby said, answering Jessica's previous question. "It feels like he's playing the back-up role and one person you cannot rely on for back-up is Ollie. Especially when they are going to a drug dealer's house."

"What do you know about this guy?" Jessica asked, pointing to Mag Mike.

"I've heard of him, of course, but he and I move in different circles so I've never had the pleasure."

"Why would they be there?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"I have no idea."

Jessica replayed the section of the video where a woman handed something to Selina. Bobby leaned in to get a better look.

"Do you know her?" Gordon looked at Bobby closely.

"No," Bobby lied.

Gordon, Jessica and Bruce all looked at him but Bobby maintained a blank expression. He only half paid attention as the three returned to talking about the case.

As soon as the Commissioner and Detective left, Bruce turned to him.

"Do you know her?" Bruce repeated Gordon's question.

"Yes," Bobby said.

"Why lie?"

"Old habits, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce. Please," he said. "Guess Selina's not the only one who's not a fan of the police."

"I don't mean to be misleading but I don't want to get her in trouble," Bobby explained. "Cops showing up to her place of...employment could be bad for her."

"What does she do?"

"She's a stripper over at The Palace," Bobby said, and at Bruce's blank expression - of course the guy would not have heard of a place like the Palace. He clarified: "It's a real sleaze joint. It's not one of those fun strip clubs where the women are young and pretty. Palace women are older, strung out, hard living women whose best days, if they ever had any, are long behind them. And the men who frequent those places...Just...yuck."

"Ok, I get it," Bruce said. "I'll go see her tonight."

"She won't talk to you."

"I can be persuasive," Bruce said.

"I'm sure you can but I want to help find who killed Ollie. You might slide her some Bens and she'll tell you something but she won't give you anything good."

"Will she talk to you?"

"Probably. I haven't seen her in a while but we could try."

Bruce checked his watch. "I need to get home to Helena. How about I pick you up later? Say nine?"

"I'll be ready."

"Anderson said you had some information?"

"Anderson?"

Bruce tilted his head in the direction of the hallway. "The guard."

"I called around to Ollie's friends but no one knew anything. Except Toby who's might be a strung out junkie but he loved Ollie."

Bobby told Bruce what Toby had said about the woman Selina and Ollie were asking about.

"Do you know what shelters he was talking about?" Bruce asked.

"I think so," Bobby replied. "I'll go around and see what I can find."

"Thank you," Bruce said.

"I put out the word that if anyone knows anything to call. Trust me, if someone knows something, they'll reach out to me. Ollie had a lot of friends. We all feel the same way."

"What's that?" Bruce asked.

"That whoever did this to him needs to pay."

This chapter really was a challenge for me. It's un-beta'd and at some point I forbade myself from re-reading and editing as editing/revising was doing nothing but killing my creativity. If there are any glaring errors, please do let me know!