Title: What Lies Ahead: XIV

Author: DC Luder

Rating: T

Summary: The Family celebrates Nathan's second birthday and Tim must fulfill his superhero duties.

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

Author's Note: There is an event referenced that is influenced by the ending of Batman Begins. Also, the Man-Hole scene is based on that from The OC episode "The Distance".

^V^

It was a beautiful mid-July day, slightly cloudy, just over seventy-five degrees with the slightest breeze coming in from the north. Given that the last week had been nothing but thunderstorms, excessively high humidity and nearly triple-digit temperatures, it was a much needed relief from Mother Nature. And it was also a perfect day to celebrate the second birthday of Jonathan Thomas Wayne.

When I had mentioned having a birthday party back in April, Bruce had been surprisingly calm. I had asked why and he had been quick to reply, "At this age, it's for family. It won't be long before it's for the devious offspring of others."

As co-party coordinator, Mattie helped me for a majority of the day, blowing up balloons and arranging decorations on the stone patio that emerged from the rear of Wayne Manor. As the only soul not involved with the preparations, Bruce gladly chose to watch Nathan for the day, of which he had spent a majority of outside playing the side yard. I remembered distinctly hearing high pitched giggles as I had looped colored paper through the wrought iron railings. When I sent Mattie to investigate, she had taken nearly a half of an hour to return.

She reported back, covered in dirt and grass clippings, that Nathan and her father had been playing soccer.

We all gathered for lunch, a fairly light meal considering dinner would be a much greater production. Alfred had even joined us briefly with his midday tea and toast. From there, Bruce had taken Nathan in for a nap and had spent the remainder of the afternoon with his daughter upstairs, helping her work on her summer reading assignment.

Finally alone, Alfred and I returned to our scheming.

Less than twenty minutes before the guests arrived, Bruce walked in on us in the breakfast nook. "What are you two up to?" he had asked, of which had caused both of us to jump. Nearly three years out of the cowl and he still was more than capable of the infamous silent entrance.

I glanced over at Alfred quickly before rising and approaching Bruce, wrapping my arms around his neck while kissing his cheek. He had shaved recently and my lips were met with smooth skin that tasted of aftershave lotion. Instead of kissing my cheek in response, Bruce tried to look over my shoulder to catch a glimpse at Alfred.

Before he could repeat his question, I replied, "Oh, we were just figuring out some things we need for the kitchen."

"Things?" Bruce asked.

"Supplies, Master Bruce," Alfred clarified after having put away our lists and catalogs.

"And it takes two of you to accomplish this?"

Before I could make up an excuse, Alfred spoke steadily, "In light of my age, sir, I fear I may forget something vital."

He repeated, "Something vital."

"Coffee," I shrugged, "Eggs. Milk. Organic wheat bread." The Bat-glare was in full force, but somehow I managed to continue with a straight face, "Is there anything you would like to add, dear?"

Bruce slipped out of my hold, stared at both of us before grunting, "The expense checkbook is on my desk," and leaving us alone.

I returned to sit beside Alfred and sighed, "Close call."

"Indeed."

Entirely on his own, Bruce had the kids washed up and changed just as Jim, Frank, Dick and Barbara arrived with enormous helium filled Winnie the Pooh, Tigger and Piglet balloons. I stood by the in-laid grill helping Alfred prepare grilled salmon, lamb chops and asparagus. Having already aided him in preparing pineapple and mango salsa, Cobb Salad with a lemon-coconut roulade for dessert, we had spent nearly three hours total alone since he had woke me a little after seven that morning.

Nearly enough time to conclude our week long efforts.

As Dick promptly kidnapped Nathan in order to play "Superman", Barbara made her way over, "That smells absolutely heavenly, Alfred."

"I do my best, madam," he replied while fighting back a smile.

The delightful, uncontrollable laughter of the birthday boy interrupted us and I couldn't help but look over. Dick had taken to wrestling on the lawn with Nathan and seemed to be losing to the two-year-old. Mattie suddenly ran down the steps in order to join in on the sibling onslaught.

As we all looked on, I heard a voice from the French doors, "Someone should give him a hand."

I glanced over to Tim as he appeared, "Be my guest."

Tim approached the rail, watched for a moment then shook his head, "He's a goner."

Cassandra, who had been mere steps behind him, leaned against the rail before also observing the tickle-heavy attack below. She then promptly jabbed at Tim's side before saying, "So much for the Dark Knight."

He snickered, "That down there requires the intervention of the original, not his predecessor."

From the other end of the stone patio, Bruce, who had been talking with Jim, paused mid-sentence as if he had overheard us. And knowing him, he most likely had.

While Alfred retreated to the kitchen for a few final touches on the serving plates, I had Mattie take drink orders. In order to hopefully be able to calm Nathan before sitting down to dinner, I retrieved him from Dick's grasp. As I sat beside Bruce, Nathan promptly crawled off of my lap and onto his father's, "Daddy um hun-gwee."

"Hang in there, tiger," Bruce whispered into his hair.

Where Bruce had always referred to Mattie affectionately as "kitten" I had noticed it had taken considerably longer to decide upon a specific nickname for his son. I had caught him calling him "chum" on more than one occasion and had promptly said that referring to my child as a type of fishing bait was unacceptable. When he had asked what was wrong with it, I had told him, "Fine, every time you call him that, I will be certain to correct him when he says 'Daddy' by reminding him that he should say 'Asshat'."

From then on, it had been "tiger."

Mattie, alongside Alfred, appeared with the accurately filled drink orders. Water and milk for the heroes on duty, water and white wine for those who had that night off, in addition to many more. A stern look from Bruce had urged Dick and Tim to return to the kitchen to aide Alfred in bringing out dinner. As everyone sat, I noticed that the sun had begun to dip behind the tree line of the rear of the property. Mattie gladly offered to run inside to turn on the patio lights, but when she returned with her arms full of party hats, I realized her alternative motive. She handed them out, trying her best to color coordinate with the shirts of the guests. She even tried to get a blue one on Frank's flat head so that it matched his nylon collar.

She had three left over and after selecting the purple sparkly one for herself, she looked over at me, "Mom, is Leslie coming?"

I shrugged as I tousled her hair, "She said she would try to make it for dinner, but if not she would definitely be up for dessert."

I watched on as my daughter placed the pale pink hat on the seat of an empty chair before handing the bright yellow hat to her father, "Sorry, Dad, it's the only one left."

Bruce proceeded to stare at the ungodly headwear and when he failed to don it in an appropriate amount of time, Mattie took it back, bringing a moment of relief to Bruce's eyes. Of which dissimilated when Mattie said, "Here, Dad, let me do it."

A brutal snap of an elastic band on Bruce's freshly shaven skin later, and it was party time.

^V^

After dinner at Wayne Manor, we had stayed to watch on as Nathan opened his gifts. Apart from the standard collection of toys, clothes and books, Nathan had also received a "big boy" full sized bed from his parents, of which I could already see the hours of bouncing and jumping to come. After opening mine and Tim's Crafty Tool Toddler Work Bench, Nathan wanted to do nothing but hit people's knees with the big plastic red hammer.

Our cue to leave.

I had driven back while Tim worked on programming his new satellite radio console. Before we had made it back to Bryanttown, he had already filled up the twenty favorite artist memory recall list, mostly with his favorite eighties songs that I still didn't understand. Wham! seemed more like a cheesy sixties TV show sound effect rather than a band's name.

It wasn't long before we suited up and headed out for the night. I took the docks to keep up on some surveillance we had been performing on a new string of drug dealers under the working title of the Jedis. I had joked after discovering their name on how pathetic criminals were becoming and Dick and Tim had replied in unison over the comm. link, "What's so lame about being a Jedi?"

At a little after two in the morning, I was just about to call in to Oracle to check in only to be summoned first by Batman's growl, "Red Alert, multiple fires on Trevor Street!"

We didn't return from patrols until a little after four-thirty in the morning, smelling of smoke that even a thirty minute long shower couldn't wash away. A gas main had ignited in a residential block in the Bowery, setting flame to a number of ten story apartment and low-income residence buildings. Combining our efforts with those of nearly seventy firefighters, we had managed to retrieve all of the occupants, of which totaled to ninety-two men, women and children.

Excluding the fourteen casualties.

After I had showered and changed, I found Tim had done the same and was sitting downstairs in the den with the lights off rather than in the bedroom. His intermittent coughing had allowed me to locate him, which fortunately made the task much easier than searching each room of the townhouse.

Before joining him, I grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge, but when I made a move to turn the lights on he had rasped, "No, don't."

Tim had been without his re-breather for nearly thirty minutes towards the end of the rescue, having given his own and his backup units to two children that had been amongst the last victims. Before returning home, I had asked if he wanted to go see Leslie but he had curtly replied "I'm fine" in true Batman form.

As I sat beside him, it wasn't hard to see his brow, furrowed in frustration, even in the dark. Instead of handing him his water, I simply set it on the coffee table between his propped feet. I had downed half of my own bottle before he finally reached for his.

"Some night," I said quietly.

He nodded in agreement but offered no verbal response.

"I can't remember the last time we played firefighters."

Tim cleared his throat, of which did nothing to improve his voice, "Firefly."

"What?"

He added, "The winter before Bruce stepped down."

I smiled, despite the fact that it was an improper response to any situation involving a criminal such as Firefly. Tim caught my smirk and when he asked what was so funny, I replied, "Remember, that night? Before the fire?"

Tim paused and then I watched on as he also began to smile, "I still won't help Bruce decorate the Manor for Christmas." He chuckled, coughed, then took a slow drag from his water bottle.

I leaned against him, happy to see him welcome the contact as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. He rasped something and when I asked him to repeat it, he did, "Good times."

"Good times," I agreed.

"Kelsey was there."

"At the fire? Why?"

He shrugged, "Probably thought less than law abiding intentions were behind the fires."

"Ever the optimist," I replied.

"Hey," he rasped, "At least she's playing nice now."

I smirked thinking on how there had finally been positive progress in developing a relationship with the commissioner. She had used the Signal recently to call on him, of which he had tentatively answered, alone. Although it had been over a year since we had brought down Hades and months since we had soared in to save the Gotham socialites attending Bruce Wayne's birthday party, she had admitted to him, "After all you've done, I've never thanked you."

Tim had said later as he had recounted the meeting that he had showed his surprise and she had instantly questioned his response.

He had replied, "Commissioner… You'll never have to."

Since then, we had slowly grown closer as a crime fighting triumvirate as vigilantes, police and the district attorney. For example, Tim often left care packages of information on Kelsey's desk during the middle of the night, thus leading to prompt investigations the next day and rapid prosecutions by DA Bryce.

Finally, we were working as a team.

As I felt my body relaxing, I fought a yawn while searching for the digitalized time on the DVD player to read a quarter after five. I turned my head and kissed Tim's cheek, "Time for bed, sleepyhe…"

He was sound asleep, his breaths coming slow and quiet. I kissed his cheek again before pulling the afghan off of the back of the couch covering the both of us as best as I could. When I settled back against him, he murmured, "I don't like deviled eggs…" before rolling his head away from me.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I woke in a less than amusing manner.

"Crap!" Tim hoarsely snapped as he leapt from the couch.

The brightness passing through the bay windows of the den suggested that it was well beyond a quarter after five. I cracked open my left eye and found the DVD player reporting a time that was only three hours later. I hid under the afghan as I collapsed back onto the couch, doing my best to convince myself it was a dream, a dream far worse than one plagued with deviled eggs.

Just as silence returned to the townhouse, I heard Tim racing down the stairs, his dress shoes firmly slapping against the hardwood. His footfalls rapidly approached my semi-conscious form, "Cass, have you seen my car keys?"

I mumbled a negative response but he had not even bothered to pause long enough to hear it as he already ran into the hall towards the kitchen. Not a moment later, I heard a coffee cup shatter and another growled, "Crap!"

Reluctantly, I rose from the couch, still wrapped in the blanket. I walked in on Tim crouching over a puddle of coffee and blue ceramic pieces, doing his best to mop them up with wadded paper towels.

"Need help?" I asked; my voice surprisingly not raspy.

Instead of the stern reply, I expected, he squeaked, "No."

I held my laughter and proceeded to step to the side before hopping up on the counter for a better view.

Tim cleared his throat twice and then proceeded to add, "No, I got it… but can you help find, ahem, my keys?"

I leaned back on the counter and reached behind the bowl of oranges, grasping the key ring, jingling it as I announced, "Found them."

He stood, grabbing out at them hurriedly. I pulled my hand back under the blanket and leaned forward, kissing his cheek of which still smelt of smoke, "Have a good day at work, sweetie."

Tim rolled his eyes, snuck a hand under the blanket, snatched the keys and managed to leap over the puddle in one fluid move.

Before the door slammed, he said, "Have a good day of cleaning up coffee, snookums!"

^V^

"This is pretty much the best idea you've ever had," I complimented Selina.

Speechless, she nodded, never taking her eyes away from the half-dressed men slaving away in front of us.

On the third Saturday in July, I had woke at the ungodly hour of seven-fifteen, hit Dick in the head with my pillow, showered, dressed and fought with north bound traffic going out of the city before making it to Wayne Manor at exactly ten past eight.

Just as I went to open the service entrance door, the knob had turned and the door had retreated from within, allowing Selina to step forward, wearing khaki capris and a fitted black sleeveless shirt, "Just in time."

I had made my way passed her and into the kitchen, awed at the site before me. Usually the marble counter tops were neatly decorated with porcelain bowls of fruit, crystal vases of fresh flowers and of course a collection of culinary gadgetry. Instead, every single square inch of counter space was barren and clean. As I looked to the other side of the island counter, I had spotted the breakfast nook filled with cardboard boxes.

Selina stepped up behind me, her voice loud in the quietness of the house, "Alfred and I have been packing since five-thirty. I never realized just how many dishes we had until I had to wrap each piece myself."

I had snickered, "Dare I ask for a cup of coffee?"

Grinning, Selina had replied, "I went in and bought muffins and coffee from the bakery in Bristol. It's in the den."

She had led the way into the corridor and continued, "Alfred's in the study going over the details one more time before everyone gets here."

As we entered the den, I asked, "So what's our plan with Bruce?"

After she had grabbed a chocolate chip muffin and began to pick at the top of it, Selina spoke, "Well, I planted the idea of how fun it would be to go to the park in the kids' heads last night. So we are going for the morning and then out to lunch. That and Mattie needs a new pair of soccer cleats and Nathan should get a new pair of sneakers as well. But right before we leave, I'll make my grand exit by saying I have to get some grant proposal paperwork done for the Preserve, thus making Bruce have to spend the day away from the Manor."

"Brilliant."

"That it is. And since I doubt we can get everything done by the time he gets back, even with the amount of manpower behind this whole operation, I gave Mattie money so they could go play miniature golf and get ice cream after hitting the athletic store."

After taking a sip of mocha latte, I shook my head, "I almost feel bad for Bruce."

Then together we had laughed, "Almost."

As Selina had predicted, Bruce passed the den Nathan in tow at exactly nine, with Mattie a few steps behind. He had paused at the door, no doubt confused as to why were in the den. Instead of standing in place, Mattie bounded into the room, "Barbara, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, thought I'd come up for breakfast."

"Dick didn't come?"

I had shaken my head, "I couldn't get him out of bed this morning, he must have been up late playing video games."

Mattie had nodded in reply, "Well, it is the weekend."

Letting Nathan to the ground, Bruce followed his son tentatively into the room, "I thought we were going to the park? Have a breakfast picnic."

Nathan climbed onto the couch with his mother and promptly strangled her with a good morning hug. She had kissed both of his cheeks before replying, "I'm sorry, I totally forgot that this Wildlife Preservative Grant Proposal was due this week. I figured I could stay here and have Barbara help me and you could take the kids to the park, and then out to lunch."

"By myself?"

I couldn't help but snicker at the thought of Bruce being frightened of corralling his offspring at a park full of other children.

Taking her son into her arms, Selina rose and approached Bruce, "If you can't then maybe we can go to the park next weekend…"

Nathan started bouncing, "Wanna swing! Wanna swing!"

Fifteen minutes later, Bruce and the Wayne children left the Manor. Selina and I saw them out to the door and did everything possible to control our laughter as Mattie asked, "After we get shoes, can we try them out while playing miniature golf?"

Once the car had pulled out of the garage and had made it down the drive, Selina had stated, "Game time."

We returned to the kitchen to find Alfred, wiping down the marble countertops one last time. In less than an hour it, would surely be far from the smooth, glassy surface that he had religiously maintained it as.

Not twenty minutes after Bruce had departed with Mattie and Nathan, two large service vans and a massive delivery truck rumbled up the driveway. Selina practically skipped out the front door, bounding towards the jean clad form of the first van's driver.

"Mrs. Wayne?" he asked, his voice and muscular build were both straight out of a Lifetime movie.

"Oh, please, call me Selina."

He nodded, removing his John Deere hat, "Well, if you'll show us to the kitchen, we'll get to work."

While Selina went about greeting all of the construction workers, I returned to the kitchen entranceway, surprised to see that Alfred had moved a sitting chair in the doorway, as well as a stand holding the remaining muffins and coffee.

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

After showing the foreman the final plans, Selina joined me in the doorway and Alfred excused himself to tend to his duties upstairs. He always kept busy during the day but I knew it would be difficult to stand idly by, watching his kitchen being torn down to make way for the new.

With nearly fourteen men working, three separate operations were being performed at the same time. A crew of four was systematically removing the tiles of the floor in addition to the slabs of marble that made up the countertop. Another set of four were hard at work taking out the cabinets and drawers, neatly arranging them on the side yard in the order they were removed. Outside, Selina had spotted five others unloading and organizing the new finished Hickory cabinet system in addition to the new slate blue tiled floors and matching slate blue countertops.

As the day progressed and the temperature rose, Selina opened the windows to let in a breeze. But not until after each of the twenty-something muscular man-slaves had gone about removing their white work shirts.

For nearly four hours, we watched as the kitchen transformed before our eyes, with a brief half hour break to fetch subs and drinks for fourteen very hungry and very thirsty and very gorgeous men.

Surprisingly enough, they were nearly finished by the time Bruce and kids had returned a little after three in the afternoon. Sans children, Bruce had stepped up behind us and gawked into his kitchen, just in time to see four men wrestling his new state of the art refrigerator into place.

"What the hell…" he muttered.

Selina glanced back briefly before taking a deep breath, "Bruce, I forgot to tell you something else…"

As she stood, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the half-naked men that were adding the final touches to his kitchen. "That you decided to refashion our kitchen into a Man Hole?"

I hid my laugh behind my bottle of green tea as Selina stammered, "Well, um, no but Alfred and I were talking the other day and…"

"You said you needed supplies for the kitchen, not a new kitchen…. I thought you meant food, maybe a new toaster… Not teenaged boys…" he growled.

Selina spoke with more humor in her voice that I thought was safe, "They're all of age, we asked."

A vein at Bruce's temple had begun to throb slowly and I watched, somewhat frightened, as he took a series of slow deep breaths. After far too long, he spoke, "Can they at least put some clothes on?"

Selina, who had never feared Bruce's wrath, looked over her shoulder at the sweat covered, smooth, Playgirl calendar torsos, "What, too HBO?"

He grunted, looked over the men once more and then walked away, muttering something about spending some more quality time with the children.

^V^

"Dick, there's something I wanted you to know."

I was in the home stretch of my nightly warm-up, more specifically a set of crunches while hanging upside down from a chin-up bar on the wall. I continued with my exercise after spotting Barbara by the doorway of the training room. My mind had not been on the fact that my lungs were still recovering from the previous night's fiery escapades, but instead on Nathan's birthday party. I had joked that the curse Bruce suffered had apparently not transferred to his son, as the child's party had carried on without a single sign of foul play. Everyone had laughed except, of course, Bruce.

It was because my two-year-old brother was on my mind that I found myself praying silently that Barbara wouldn't say anything about starting our own little tribe of Graysons.

Instead, she said, "I've been cheating."

I paused, mid-crunch and proceeded to drop back, hanging completely parallel with the wall, "Barbara, what are you talking about?"

"Tim and I… I know I made a vow to you and I'm sorry but…"

Instead of anger filling my veins, I shook my head, disappointed more than anything. I finished the last five crunches before dropping to the floor, approaching her, "I have to admit, I've seen this coming… and Tim does make a good looking elf."

She nodded, "I promise, it won't happen again."

"You know I'll have to take action now…"

Barbara looked up at me, her lip held captive by her upper incisors.

She led the way to her lair of computers, and proceeded to unplug the USB cord that connected her ZIP drive to the main computer and tentatively handed it to me. There was a long, quiet moment before she said, "Thank you for understanding…"

"Babs, I will never understand what you two see in that World of Warriors thing…"

A flash of emotion came across her face and she tried to hide it by adjusting her hair and turning towards her computer, "It's World of Warcraft."

I shook my head at the thought that Tim and Barbara, the Batman and the Oracle, had fallen off the bandwagon of a self-proclaimed hiatus from playing their beloved computer game. Of which had been just in time, as both Cassandra and I had nearly called for an intervention after I had caught Tim playing at work and she had found Barbara playing during patrols.

"Well, I'm going to finish up and then change," I finally spoke.

Barbara nodded before going about cracking her fingers and wrists, her very own warm-up routine for the night.

At quarter of eight, I was nearly finished when Barbara appeared in the doorway of the training room once more. I completed my set of chin-ups before dropping from the bar. Customarily, I removed my tank top and proceeded to wipe the sweat from my face and neck before tossing it into the hamper near the door, nothing but net.

"Now what, are you going to leave me for a hobbit?"

As I approached, Barbara said, "Close. Looks like it's just you and Cass tonight, Tim's heading up to the Watchtower for a JLA meeting."

"No fair… I have to battle with thugs and he gets to eat doughnuts and chit chat?"

Barbara tried to hide her smile and replied, "I don't think that's the typical agenda of a JLA meeting, Dick."

"How do you know?" When she shrugged in response, I accused, "You watch the meetings, don't you?"

"As Oracle, it's my responsibility to keep up to date with the current matters and concerns of the Justice League."

Shaking my head, I returned to the main mat and proceeded to work on some shadow boxing. After a moment, I realized Barbara was there to stay and I was inclined to ask, "Was there anything else?"

"What? Oh, no."

I began flexing extraneously in order to show off the muscling of my back, "Like what you see? Or do I need a yellow helmet and a tool belt?"

I tried to hold the serious look on my face but as she began to giggle, I couldn't help but join in. When she had said that she was going to spend the day at the Manor with Selina, I hadn't thought much of it. Over the years, they spent a great deal of time together, no doubt each venting about their husbands respectively. Sometime last year, Barbara had suggested I do the same with Bruce.

Somehow, I didn't see any chance surviving an attempt to ask Bruce, "Does Selina dry her bras on the shower door? Babs does and it drives me crazy!"

But when Barbara had returned from her day with Selina, she was smiling far too much for it to have been an average day of women folk chatter. I had done my best to ignore it until the end of dinner when I had brought up the idea of having some remodeling done at the firm to make individual offices for Tim and Will and she broke out laughing.

That's when she spilled the beans.

For some time, Selina had been interested in making some adjustments to the house. Aside from the kitchen, Selina had also thought about redecorating a number of the rooms in the Manor, namely each of the children's bedrooms, the master bedroom and the den. But since she had always seen Wayne Manor as Bruce's house, she had always been timid about asking for permission.

That was until Alfred pointed out, "In all senses of ownership, Master Bruce can only make valid claims on two places on the entire property: the study and the Cave. And I have always wondered what the kitchen would look like in slate blue."

And since money was never an issue, they had gone all out to completely remodel and refurnish the kitchen but more importantly, they had hired a massive crew in order to try and complete it within twelve hours. That way, Bruce couldn't complain about them disrupting the function of the house and Selina could guarantee that things would be completed in a timely fashion.

A timely, half-naked fashion.

Barbara had been very frank with the details of the construction process, from the tattoos that some of the young men had sported right down to the look of horror on Bruce's face when he had found out. Apparently, Bruce had forbidden the children from coming back downstairs until each and every crewmember was dressed appropriately, of which had acted as the killjoy for both Selina and Barbara. She had left a little before five and they had actually been ahead of schedule, cleaning up debris while checking the new faucets as well as the attachments for the new appliances.

When Barbara had told me all of the juicy details, she assured me that the only fully naked body she wanted to see was my own. My pout had instantly transformed into a devious grin.

Barbara smiled briefly before looking at her watch, "Well, check in before you head out, I'll try and see where Cass plans on patrolling, and we'll go from there."

I waited until after she left to respond, "Yes, ma'am."

Not thirty minutes later, I had finished warming up and donned my Nightwing suit with exception of my mask and gloves. Adjacent to the training room there was small storage room with equipment and supplies on reserve in place of driving to the Bat-cave anytime we needed Batarangs or new binoculars. I checked and restocked the compartments of my boots and then my gloves before finally putting them on. I even secured the Zip Drive in a spare compartment in my left boot.

Mask in hand, I made my way to Oracle's lair for the second time that evening. She was staring at a map of the northern part of the city, of which Tim usually tended to.

It was on my shoulders for the night.

We reviewed some major points to check into during the night as well as a new case Tim had started looking into involving a diamond thief that had been working his or her way up the east coast.

"Hey, wasn't Selina wearing a new pair of earrings last night?"

Barbara glared at me over her shoulder, "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Uh, of course… Well, better get going, lots to do…"

A moment later as I was leaping from the Clocktower window, I had a growing fear that Barbara was already dialing Wayne Manor. I filled my lungs with warm summer air, knowing I would only truly appreciate it after Selina left me to spend my remaining days breathing through a tube.

^V^

"…Which brings us to the new rotation schedule for Monitor Duty…" Superman's smooth, baritone voice brought me back to full attention.

A bought of smoke inhalation induced bronchitis had made sleeping, as well as breathing, a difficult if not impossible task. An act of God, a heavy dose of bronchodilators and a third of a jar of Vicks Vapo-Rub had gracefully kept me from coughing during the first half of the monthly Justice League meeting. I had nearly forgotten, in light of the hectic nights I had been facing. But Clark had contacted me on the JL link just as I was suiting up to head out for patrols.

Going nearly double the speed limit, I made it to the Cave a little before eight in the evening and only minutes later, stepped through the teleporter that would jumble my atoms from Bristol to the Watchtower in seconds.

Even though I had been to the Watchtower several times since I had accepted a position in the Justice League, I had yet to actually participate in any active combat. There had been a close call les than three weeks ago when terrorist activity in Paris had suggested involvement by the ever notorious Prometheus.

But as excited as I had been to face-off with a man who hated every fiber of Batman's body, it turned out to be a much less intriguing and challenging opponent. Merely a freelance "architectural hitman" who wanted to bring down the Arc De Triumphe.

To my left, J'onn J'onnz sighed quietly before his voice filled my mind, I would bet half of this solar system that he assigned me to Thursdays.

And that's a bad thing? I responded silently.

It is now that I'm taken with Survivor.

Despite the fire in my lungs and the fact that I would give anything to be on the streets of Gotham rather than the meeting room of the Watchtower, I allowed the corner of my mouth to lift a millimeter.

As a child and even as Robin, I had looked up to every single one of the figures around me as the heroes they were. Bruce had a natural distrust for super-humans, one which I completely understood. But I couldn't help but be amazed at how they managed to function in a common world despite their magnificent abilities. But having worked beside them had also given me a different perspective. That despite their powers and origins, they each had a very human side.

One which showed quite clearly at every monthly meeting. Watching Green Lantern polish his ring, catching Flash practicing going cross-eyed and silently chatting with J'onn about his Thursday night television line-up, I realized I wasn't the only one bored out of my mind.

When Superman had asked me to join the League last December, I had been all too eager to accept. Working alongside heroes I had spent years idolizing was practically a dream come true, second only to stepping into the boots of the one hero I had never dreamed of meeting let alone ever working under. In the first week of January, Superman, the social butterfly that he was, had called all of the members to the Watchtower to help welcome me "back".

As I had suited up in the Cave that particular evening, Bruce had come down to help check and reprogram the teleporter, as it had not been used in a little over two years. I watched on, cowl drawn back, not sure what to say or if there had been anything to say. Bruce had surprisingly broken the silence, "None of them know… aside from J'onn and Clark. The others should recognize the difference but I wouldn't depend on it. It's up to you whether or not you want to tell them..."

I had nodded, still remaining silent.

He left without another word and I had waited until I heard his footsteps on the steps before I pulled the cowl into place.

Diana had been the first to recognize the differences between Bruce and I but she didn't say anything, she simply blinked more than necessary before welcoming me back. The others took to staring at me, concern coming over their features. When Bruce had suffered amnesia following the Pasqualle shooting, we had made attempts to keep things running without anyone else knowing. Clark had randomly visited and when Mattie had been born and the others had dropped by, only J'onn was able to tell what was wrong. The remaining Justice League members had thankfully remained oblivious.

That was until Superman had recorded his thoughts on the Watchtower's computer system, of which Flash had been all too curious to hack into and listen to. But by that time, Bruce had already regained his memory and was training to return to the mantle of the Bat.

This time, it was a permanent change.

I never once revealed my identity but they didn't need me to tell them. They knew it wasn't Dick Grayson behind the mask and they knew Bruce would have only entrusted one other soul to carry on in his stead. Only once was the subject brought up in my face and it had surprisingly been Diana.

She had corned me in the corridor as I had headed out after that first official gathering. The anxiety in her eyes had sent a chill down my spine, considering she never let her guard down. I had remained stoic as she spoke, barely above a whisper, "Please… tell me he's… I mean, if there was something…"

"I can assure you there's nothing to be concerned about," escaped from my lips in a gravelly voice that made her blink rapidly.

J'onn brought me back to full attention, I knew it… Now I will have to look into Tivo…

I glanced over to Superman as he scanned a printout of the monitor schedule, "Flash, you will be responsible for a twelve hour shift on Friday and then an additional six hours on Tuesday."

Flash, who sat almost directly across from me rolled his eyes and muttered, "There goes my social life…"

Not the wisest actions considering how acute a certain Kryptonian's hearing was.

Superman continued after taking a deep breath, "Which leaves us… Batman, a twelve hours shift on Monday along with a six hour block on Tuesday."

"Alongside Flash?" I asked, of which had been the first words I had uttered in the last hour.

Superman nodded, "The six-hour shifts will overlap with the incoming Leaguer for roughly one hour."

Flash grinned, "I smell a Halo power hour."

I shook my head slightly and Superman stated, "If there aren't any qualms with the schedule…"

Glancing over at J'onn, I nearly smirked again to see his large brown wrinkle slightly.

It was another hour before the meeting was adjourned. I did my best to try and appear interested in the topics of discussion, but with limited global threats and an eerie calm that had settled, there hadn't been much of anything to discuss. When the subject of still outstanding terrorists came up, my mind clicked on when I heard Oracle's voice on the overhead speakers causing me to wonder just how long she had been tuned in, "Speaking of which, Interpol flag just came up… Apparently a man garbed in red with wrist mounted weapons just tried to take out the French ambassador while he was visiting Turkey."

"Deadshot," I growled lowly.

J'onn, just as much of a detective as I was, spoke up, "Did he manage to escape?"

"Interestingly enough, no he didn't. But when they went to put him in a squad car, he had a small explosive, managed to blow the car up and a few cops. And from witness testimony, his hands."

Taste of his own medicine…

She continued, "He managed to get a few blocks before he was apprehended again, this time, no weapons or tricks up his sleeves."

"Or anything else," Flash snickered.

Superman nodded slowly after scowling at Flash, "Good news for once… We appreciate it."

"Anytime."

Shortly after I had become Batman, Deadshot had visited Gotham and shot Nightwing after he had witnessed a hit. Lawton managed to escape undetected to return to his part-time life as a gun for hire. We always had an eye and an ear out for him but he had only been loosely linked to four hits in two years. Dick had always tried to joke about Deadshot, as he did about everything, and said he was starting to show his age, just like Bruce had been.

The slip-up in Turkey made me think that there was a fast growing niche for over-the hill baddies and that perhaps a retirement prison for the aging criminal was in order.

^V^

The children and I had decided to read while Selina showered and changed for the evening. Mattie, Nathan and I sprawled on his new bed and worked our way through two chapters of Charlotte's Web, of which I had been thankful for since we had read nothing but Harry Potter for the first half of the summer. Nathan fell asleep fairly quickly and I told Mattie to keep reading while I tucked him in. I then suggested we could head to her room to continue reading.

She shrugged and yawned, "That's okay, Dad, I think I'm going to go to bed anyway."

"You sure?"

Mattie nodded then stood on the edge of his bed before kissing my cheek, "Good night, Dad."

Following her down the hall, I watched on as she got into bed before adjusting the covers over Taffy's purring form. I waited until she was also under the covers before I stepped to the door and turned the lights off. For a moment, I faced down the corridor to the master bedroom, but then turned to the stairs and headed down to inspect the new kitchen.

Since the modifications had not been completed before dinner, I had taken everyone out to dinner in town. Mattie had wanted to stay and help finish the kitchen but the idea of my daughter mixed with over a dozen young men set fire to my spine. Selina must have noticed my change in stance and had been quick to tell Mattie that she would help put things back once everything was finished.

I had been nearly silent throughout dinner, only speaking to verify that Nathan had miraculously made a hole-in-one at miniature golf and that the course manager had said he was Tiger Woods in the making.

The ride home had been quiet with Mattie staring out the backseat window and Nathan dozing on and off in his car seat. Once we arrived home, Selina remained downstairs to check in on the crew as they wrapped things up while I took the kids upstairs to bathe and change. When Selina did make it upstairs she had headed straight for the shower, no doubt to wash off a long day of staring at pectoral muscles.

There should have been no reason to be jealous of the twenty-something's that had resided in my home for the day. I could have bench-pressed two of them at once without breaking a sweat. It shouldn't have bothered me, walking in on my wife ogling bare-chested construction workers as I knew none of them would ever be worthy of her affection.

But it had.

I sat at the new island counter staring at a glass of water I had yet to taste. The smell of freshly cut wood and still drying paint filled the room, a fresh smell that for some reason stank.

A stink that was quickly overcome by fragrant soap and a hint of rich perfume.

Instead of turning to look at Selina, I continued to stare at the water glass, tapping on the base of it causing the water to ripple. She came up behind me and leaned against my back, her arms slowly circling my waist as her chin came to rest on my shoulder, "Do you like it?"

I paused before replying, "I don't… not like it."

"Jackass…" she growled in my ear.

I smirked and finally raised the glass to my lips.

Selina drew away slightly and spread her hands across my shoulders, "Got a kink here…" As she pressed into the knot, I grimaced. She leaned forward again and said, "Why don't we go upstairs, I'll work it out for you."

On the way home from dinner, I had checked the news radio station to find that a brief report was being made on the capture of Deadshot in Turkey. Unfortunately, I would be poor company until I was able to learn every single fact about his final actions in addition to his haphazard apprehension.

After stepping off of the stool, I turned to face her, "I'll be up in a while."

"A while…" she repeated.

Frowning, I tried to explain, "I have to…"

She pressed a finger to my lips, "I know," and then turned and disappeared in the darkened corridor.

In a normal marriage, my actions would have a fatal error, one that would haunt me for weeks to come. I would be forbidden from my own bedroom for at least one night if not more. We would avoid each other, altering our daily routines in order to do so. Eventually we would realize that it was all a foolish fight and then would let it fade from our memories.

But we were anything but normal. She would be waiting up for me, reading that novel she had been working on since the Fourth of July weekend. No matter how late I stayed in the Cave, her offer for a backrub would still be valid. And we would never consider it to have been a fight because then… we would be fighting all of the time.

Despite that the house never was anywhere above sixty-five degrees, when I entered the Cave I felt a wave of Goosebumps raise on my forearms. As I made my way down the steps, I glanced at my watch to see it was just before nine. Just as I thought that Tim would be returning from the meeting at the Watchtower any moment, I heard the hum of electricity and a flash of light from the left side of the Cave's main floor. I paused and waited for him to step out of the teleportation chamber. When nearly a minute had passed, I suddenly wondered if the teleporter had malfunctioned but then I heard an unsteady footfall on granite followed by a slow exhalation.

"It gets easier each time you teleport," I heard my voice echo in the cavern.

Tim, cowl in place, stepped into view. When he spotted me, he instinctively pulled the mask back and let it hang between his shoulders. "Not sure I like the idea of being too comfortable with my atoms being shot around."

"It never gets that easy," I corrected him.

Tim nodded, letting a smirk come over his lips before asking, "Were you just heading upstairs?"

I shook my head, "Actually just coming down."

"Have you heard about---."

As I nodded, I finished, "Deadshot, yes. Only what was broadcasted on the news however."

Tim made his way to the computer bay and as I followed, I couldn't help but watch the edge of his cape, hovering just above the edge of his thick soled boots. I had always had the cape long, so that several inches would drag behind me…

His voice interrupted my thoughts as he tapped on the main keyboard, "Not much more to it, unfortunately. He picked a bad time of day, was practically in plain sight… And his escape was messy… It was almost as if he was doomed from the start."

When I didn't reply, he looked over his shoulder at me, "What do you think?"

Although I had done my best to try and not be too heavily involved with ongoing cases, I had made it clear from the beginning that I would always be available for a second opinion. Recently, however, I as well as Barbara had been impressed with Tim's personal progress as a detective. His eye for detail had made him a natural for the job but it was his near-obsession with solving cases that had forced him to adapt to perfection, relying heavily on his experiences in order to fine-tune his mind.

And as a result, I had not been in the Cave for anything more but to check in with Barbara mid-way through patrols each night.

I stared at the muted news footage of Deadshot being pursued on foot by Turkish policemen. Finally, I replied, "It's possible whoever hired him had set him up."

"That's what I was thinking. Actually, that's all that I could think after we found out during the JLA meeting, but they were all too preoccupied with when they had to sit in for monitor duty…" As his voice faded, I nodded, recounting many wasted hours spent amidst the world's greatest superheroes, bickering over who had spilled soda on the computer consoles.

Just as I was about to suggest looking into the whereabouts of a few of the more infamous assassins in operation, Tim paged Oracle and asked, "O, can you get me a list of the fifteen most wanted guns for hire."

"Christmas shopping a little early?" she replied, the same humor in her voice that I had always ignored during late nights of patrolling Gotham. "Domestic or imported?" she continued.

"Both."

Although I wanted to stay and help weed out the less than likely candidates for setting up Lawton, I knew Tim would be itching to head out to the City. I left him, listening as Barbara gave him a run down of what Dick and Cassandra had already accomplished for the evening.

Good soldiers…

Selina was reading in bed, only the small lamp on the table at her side illuminating the room. She continued to remain engrossed in the novel while I changed and washed up. When I proceeded to lay face down on the bed, still over the covers, she quietly marked her page and set the book down. I felt warm fingers on the tense muscles of my shoulders and sighed.

Still silent, she proceeded to work out a few kinks and bunches that had knotted up over the last few days. Doing my best to relax, I let my breathing slow to a crawl, closing my eyes as I did so.

That was until she plucked a hair from my lower back.

I looked over my shoulder and growled at her but she simply smiled, "It got caught on my ring, sorry." Selina crawled back to her side of the bed, turned the light off and proceeded to recline beside me, face down as I was. I turned my head to look at her just as she did the same. When I remained stoic, she inched closer, planting a kiss on my chin. Then my nose. Even after her tongue grazed my disfigured collar bone, I was still unmoved.

Finally, she growled and bit my ear lobe.

"Ow," I said slowly, my flesh still pinned between her incisors.

She let go and said, "Funny, for a second I thought you were catatonic… What's wrong?"

I was about to reply as usual but she made a dive for my ear again and I changed my answer, "It troubles me…"

"What does? The fact that I can remodel your kitchen and live to remodel another room?"

"Very funny," I sighed. Her smile faded in the darkness, "What is it then?"

"Tim… I've never seen him wear the cowl, until tonight. Even then it was just until he realized I was there… I've seen in him countless times in the suit, driving the Batmobile or even sitting my… that damn chair by the computer but… I have never seen him wear that cowl..."

She was quiet for a moment and I was certain she was going to tell me to stop worrying about something as stupid as that. Instead she moved in and kissed the faint scar on my forehead.

"Bruce… I think it might trouble Tim more than it does you. I mean, how could anyone face you in the guise you created, that you sacrificed so much for…"

I felt her fingers on mine and slowly grasped them, "There's no need for him to be… I don't want to say ashamed but…"

"Maybe on some level he is. Not ashamed of being Batman himself but the fact that you couldn't be any longer."

After a silent three minutes, I grunted.

She purred.

^V^