Well, here it is!

Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Seasons passed, and a beautiful spring passed onto a warm summer. As the weather got warmer, Dusty spent more and more time outside. Bruce couldn't decide whether she just liked it outdoors, or whether she was mapping out the whole estate for the fast approaching Annual Water Fight. Her water cannon was finished, and to tell the truth, it looked absolutely terrifying. It stood almost five feet tall, had parts from everything from swivel chairs to parts of an old tank she bought over eBay, its multiple nozzles, added for maximum firing power, seemingly grinning at him whenever he entered her room.

She'd also been a great help on crime fighting. As well as being a whiz on the computer, which was a very useful acquired skill, she could have his gadgets ready in hours when they were broken or simply not working. But things were still rather awkward between them. It wasn't really the Batman thing anymore, Bruce could tell, but rather the sort of awkwardness that told him she was more than ready to get back in action.

Which brought him back to the water fight. All things considered, as well as Dusty's eagerness to get back in action, he wasn't sure if this was a completely intelligent thing to do. After all, if she turned this into an exercise, he would be forced to…well, cheat. He had Alfred on his team after all, and even though the two Graysons had water cannons, well, he knew how to even the odds. Or at least he hoped so. If not, there was going to be a lot of unintentionally cold water being shot around.

The morning of the water fight dawned, the sun beating down in a way that made them feel fortunate that they were chucking water around. Around eight in the morning, they all met in the foyer. Dusty spoke.

"So, I suppose you all know how this works?" She asked. Bruce and Rick smiled and nodded. Alfred merely nodded.

"Alright, there are certain rules. Number one: war will reign until either one team surrenders to the other, or until suppertime tonight. Whichever comes first. Number two: No bodily harm should come to anyone; which, by the way, includes accidental slides and slips. That means, should you see anyone about to fall, or slip around, please help them." She paused. "Unless you have a score to pay, and then you can leave them alone." They all laughed. She smiled, "Bottom line rules, keep it clean, don't cheat unless you have to, wear helmets while on marble floors, and..." Her forehead creased, "Don't drink pesticide. That's all. May the best team win!" She said. Without further ado, they all shook hands, and ran to their various positions.

Bruce ran outside to dismantle the handles on all the outside faucets, and Alfred donned his overalls and stately raincoat, took a monkey wrench, and without too much difficulty turned off all the water to the house.

War had begun.

While Bruce and Alfred were un-evening the odds, Dusty was putting the balance back in place. Seeing what Bruce was doing from her vantage point in the tree two hundred yards away, with help from her trusty waterproof binoculars, she took the small tool kit from her pocket and checked that there was a wrench, just in case she needed it. There was.

She also checked that there was enough water in her present storage place to fill her machine for ten rounds. Unbeknownst to Bruce and Alfred, Dusty and Rick, while innocently shopping for rubber bands, or not so innocently, seeing how they were to use them later that day, the two Grayson siblings bought nearly four thousand gallons of water, more than enough to carry them through the day, and hid them throughout the grounds, where they were strategically placed to coincide with their plans.

Rick was on the other side of the house, spying through the windows to try to figure out where Alfred was.

"I can't see him." He said into his headset, peering into the windows. These headsets, specially-made waterproof for the occasion, were a contribution from Mr. Fox. Dusty had been stunned when he'd slipped the box surreptitiously into her bag, showing a support for the water fight that she didn't think he would show, even if it was on bought and paid-for vacation time. The fact that he was a good friend now probably made the whole contribution thing make a little more sense, but a sneaking suspicion suggested to her that maybe he just thought she might need a little more help.

"Ok, then forget about him for now. I'll sneak up with the Uzi and get Bruce for now. Standby with The Peashooter." The Peashooter was the affectionate name given to Rick's little water cannon. Dusty's was just 'The Cannon', and generally not dwelled upon. Dusty wasn't sure whether this was because they were afraid of it, or because they didn't want her to start thinking up nefarious things to do with it.

"Right on, Dusty. Should I make my way around to help you?" He asked. She looked through her binoculars at Bruce.

"Nah, stay and keep a watch out for Alfred. I don't want to get ambushed. Keep a special lookout on the doors, and make sure he doesn't make it out of the house dry. If you need to replace the cannon on the Peashooter with a camera and find him. The extra reception I installed should make it safe to stay outside. Under no circumstances enter the house." She said into the mike.

"Roger."

"Over and out. I'm out after Bruce. Don't call me unless it's absolutely necessary." She said and slipped out of the tree. Grabbing two heavy-duty water guns, she slipped them into a quick draw position, and then grabbed two balloons from one of the crates hidden in the bushes.

Keeping her profile low, she snuck up on the unsuspecting Bruce, hid herself behind a bush, and then lobbed the balloon at him. The balloon broke beautifully across the back of his head, drenching his back. Shocked by the sudden dousing he had received, he arched his back and whipped around. Dusty went still as he surveyed the bushes around him. For a moment she thought he spotted her, until his eyes moved away from her hiding spot.

Breathing a little easier, she waited until he was turned back to his work. Lobbing the other one, she threw it so it landed on top of his head, drenching his front.

"Oh, score!" She whispered. He whipped around, shaking water from his eyes. Ever so carefully, he scanned the bushes. After a minute, he raised his voice to a loud tone.

"I can see you, Dusty." He said. Dusty didn't believe it. Half the time people said that, they were bluffing people out into the opening. She stayed absolutely still. Then slowly, imperceptibly, she took the water-Uzi out of her belt. As Bruce approached the row of bushes (it appeared he had been bluffing), she saw him pull a water gun of his own out of his belt.

Then suddenly he ran toward Dusty's bush. Standing, she let loose with the Uzi, pumping up the water gun as fast as she could, and spluttered when Bruce's water hit her face, never once letting her own stream falter. Then, turning tail and laughing, she started to run back toward the trees.

This was a crucial part of the plan. If she could get Bruce in range, she had a voice activator for her water cannon. As she zigzagged, letting him almost get her, she drew him closer and closer. Finally, he came within fifteen feet. In fact, he came within 10 feet.

"Activate." Dusty said clearly in her microphone. The water burst from the pipe and hit Bruce in the chest and face. Spluttering, he waited until the cannon blast was gone, and then went after Dusty, tackling her in the muddy ground.

"Surrender!" He said, pinning her to the ground and emptying the tank of his water gun over her head. She rolled over, heaving upwards in a massive show of strength, fueled by the frigid water, and took off across the lawn.

"NEVER!" She yelled as she streaked off, water droplets flying behind her. Running to another cache of water implements, she took another four water balloons and lobbed them at Bruce. A flash of confusion crossed his face.

"Where are you getting all of these?" He yelled, dodging another balloon, while getting doused with another one. Dusty paused, poised to throw.

"Do I generally do anything by halves?" She asked lowering the purple balloon in her hand. A genuinely curious look crossed her face. Bruce panted as he thought about it.

"No." He admitted. A smile crossed her face.

"Oh. Well then." She said, and hurled the balloon at him. He ducked and rolled toward her. Shrieking, she hurtled backwards, taking four balloons with her. Immediately, she realized her mistake.

Bruce had control of that bucket of water balloons. Closing her eyes, she prepared herself to get very, very wet.

War reigned all that day. By the time dinnertime rolled around, everyone (excluding Alfred) had gotten thoroughly wet. Rick had waited patiently almost three hours before Alfred had come out with Bruce's lunch, and on his way back, had hit him three times with the Peashooter before Alfred could ascertain where Rick was. Luckily, and characteristically, Alfred had his raincoat and umbrella at the ready.

As they sloshed up the steps to the manor, this proved useful as to the fact that Alfred could get towels. As they dripped in the front entry, they reveled in the highlights of the day. Bruce had gotten both Dusty and Rick in a beautiful smash when he dumped an entire garbage can of water over a balcony. Rick had also gotten right up behind Bruce and emptied a two-gallon bucket over his head, only to get doused himself. But the crowning glory was when Alfred blasted Dusty with a hose-full of ice-cold water after she almost got him with the cannon.

In the end, no one really won. The right to dinner went to both teams, and after people were all in nice warm clothes (the wind had picked up around five o'clock, thus leaving all of them [except Alfred] well chilled) they enjoyed steaming hot chili from the crock-pot. During dinner, Bruce was quiet. He seemed a little moody, which wasn't normal, at least for his non-Batman persona.

Alfred called him on it after Dusty and Rick had left the table to go do some air-hockey. Bruce put his face in his hands. "I have to marry her, Alfred."

"I'm presuming you mean Miss Grayson?" He asked, calmly clearing off Bruce's plate. Bruce nodded. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, sir, but I assumed that you were rather fond of the young lady."

Bruce sighed. "I am… But if we keep up this charade, then people are going to start asking when's the big day, and if we say we haven't decided, then rumors are going to start flying, and I really don't want Dusty having to go through that again. But still… I just don't know if she would want to marry me."

"So it's not about your feelings, it's about hers?" Alfred asked. Bruce nodded again, rubbing his hand over his face again. "So, if I may ask, sir, why is it so important to keep the charade going? To my knowledge, the League of Shadows has not had contact with Miss Grayson for over five months, and that is when her apartment blew up. Even if you two were to become disengaged, wouldn't she still have a high profile? Enough to keep her safe?"

Running a hand through his hair, he spoke in a low voice, "They're getting restless. The notes about the Dragon are about her, I'm sure of it. They're getting more and more common. The first note was found with Mike Dennison, one of the bomb squad people that were first on the scene when Dusty's apartment blew up. The second was found in Rachel's apartment, underneath a picture of Dusty, Rachel and I that we took at the start of the summer holiday. Luckily, Rachel was visiting her mother at the time. I guess they knew that she and Dusty had become friends."

Alfred surveyed the younger man. "Well, then it seems you have no option. Obviously you must keep Miss Grayson here for her protection, and if marrying her is the best option, then by all means marry her." Bruce sighed and stood, leaning against the counter.

"How am I supposed to break that to her?" He asked. Alfred gave him an assessing look and then replied.

"With tact, perhaps? If I know Miss Grayson, out of duty, she will not refuse. Whether any other emotions are present, I wouldn't know. You should know, Master Bruce, that the emotions she treasures most are the ones locked deepest inside her." The trusty old butler wetted down a dishrag and started to wipe the table and counters down. "I would wait until Mr. Grayson is put to bed, however. It would not do to have two siblings prone to overreacting to be driven to panic at once."

Bruce smiled. "I guess you're right. Anyway, Dusty has better luck breaking things to Rick than I do." Alfred smiled.

"Right so, sir. Now I believe if you go upstairs, they will be setting up the pool table. It would probably be best to keep points for them. Miss Grayson might need your help too, she hasn't quite got it yet. Last week she cracked one of the chairs when the cue ball flew off the table." Bruce laughed and ran upstairs.

True enough, when he got upstairs, Dusty was losing the game badly. Rick looked smug, leaning on his cue stick in a very nonchalant way.

"Have you come to laugh at me too, or to do something useful?" Dusty grumbled. Bruce smiled, sitting a short distance away.

"Well, Alfred did tell me to come keep score, but I think that would be slightly useless. How about I give you a few tips?" He asked. Dusty sighed.

"As long as you aren't like Mr. I'm-a-master-at-physics over there and give useless hints."

"And if I do?" He asked. She gave him a look that rivaled the air over Gotham's cement factory.

"Then I will beat you over the head with my cue stick." She growled. He smiled and stood up walking over to her casually.

"Alright. Which ball do you want to hit in?" He asked. She pointed at the three ball. "Any reason for that one?" He said. She looked at him evenly.

"Any reason why not?" She asked. He shrugged and moved behind her. After angling her the way he wanted her to be, she shot. The three ball went in.

"Yes!" She said. Bruce smiled to himself. He also noted that one way to make Dusty feel better was to teach her how to do something new. After what he was going to tell her, he wondered just how many things he would need to teach her.

The game went on for a while, Rick being called to go to bed soon, and after two hours, Bruce and Dusty's game began to dwindle. After their pool game turned into a cue-stick swordfight, they finally called it quits. Tired and thirsty, but more relaxed than before (at least on Dusty's part) the two 'adults' tromped down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Dusty? I have a question." Bruce asked. Dusty filled her glass up with water and turned around to face him across the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

"Shoot." She said, taking a drink.

"What if I told you we had to really get married?" Dusty lowered her glass, thinking about it.

"Not sure. Why?" She asked, raising her glass to her lips again.

"Because we do," He said. Dusty choked, halfway spewing her water across the kitchen, and halfway trying to cough the rest of the water out of her lungs, clapping one of her hands over her mouth. As Bruce tried to come up to help her, she held out her hand to stop him in a very firm way. After a few minutes of clearing her throat, and breathing normally, she spoke, her voice slightly hoarse, her mind and heart racing.

"Why do you think we need to do that?" She said, taking a cautious sip of water. Bruce waited until she had swallowed before he replied.

"Well, we've been engaged for almost four months. People are going to start asking when the wedding is," He said. Dusty sighed.

"Sometimes I really hate your sense of logic," She said, pulling herself up onto the counter. "No offense or anything, you're one of my best friends, but I really don't want to get married right now." Bruce smiled and leaned against the counter beside her.

"Well, no offense, but I'm not sure either. However, I think it's something that needs to be done. I really don't want the…er…those sort of rumors to start up again." He said. Dusty put her arm around his shoulders and leaned on him a little bit. A moment of silence passed.

"Well, I guess that's that, then." She said. He looked up as she removed her arm and jumped off the counter.

"You mean you'll do it?" He asked. She shrugged.

"As I said, I don't want to, but considering my alternatives are either defamation or death, I'll stick with getting married." She said, and turned around.

"Um…Now what?" She turned around.

"Now I get to plan a wedding. You can arrange the pre-nup, just in case. To make it easy, let's just keep everything we take into this marriage, and perchance we give stuff to each other, we keep that as well, unless for some reason we don't want to keep it."

"Fair enough," He said. She smiled, turned, and walked out the kitchen door.
"Well," Bruce said to himself, "That went better than expected."

The first thing she did when Dusty got into her room was kick the desk. Married! Of all the things Bruce had to throw at her, it was marriage. To him. Yes, he was kind. Yes, he was wonderful. But a husband? As small part of her was tempted to say yes, but the majority of her, the part that carried the vote, told her a flat 'no'. Call it fear, call it stubbornness, call it she didn't want to get involved with someone when she had a price on her head, she just wasn't willing to marry him. Sighing, she slumped down on her window seat. She looked at the clock. 10:23.

By all accounts Sana wouldn't be asleep by now. She pulled out her cell phone, and paused. On the converse side, by all accounts of reason and sanity, she probably wouldn't have the same cell-phone number after eight years. On the other hand, if there was one thing that Sana liked…Okay, it was lipstick, but the next best thing was consistency, since she hadn't changed her phone number in the eight years before that… It was at least worth a try.

Typing in the well-memorized digits, she pressed the talk button. Her heart almost stopped when it started ringing. After two rings, a musical voice sounded.

"Ceci SeQuina Tormont, comment peut-il j'est-il vous aider? Si vous ne voulez pas SeQuina Tormont, alors vous avez évidemment le faux numéro ainsi vous. (This is SeQuina Tormont, how may I help you? If you didn't want SeQuina Tormont, then you've obviously got the wrong number so you can hang up now.)"

"Et ce qui si je voulais parler à une amie très vieux nommé Sana? (And what if I wanted to talk to a very old friend named Sana?)" Dusty said, countering in the same language. There was silence.

"Dusty?" Sana asked, her voice rather small and disbelieving. Dusty smiled at the voice of her childhood friend.

"Hey, Sana." The squeal was enough to make Dusty pull the phone away from her ear.

"I haven't heard from you in, like, forever! What's up? Where have you been? Last I heard you were in Beijing, and no one had seen you, like, forever. Until, of course, four months ago you popped into headlines again. Seen with Bruce Wayne? What were you thinking?"

Dusty listened to her friend speaking at a hundred miles a minute. She really hadn't changed, and Dusty was glad. One of them, at least, had to remain sane, or rather…insane, and the world would keep turning.

"Um, well, listen… I know I haven't talked to you for almost nine years…but I'm getting married in… well, I don't know when, but really soon."

"What?" Undeniably, it was the most shocked Dusty had ever heard her friend, and she had been around when Dusty told her she was dating Jacob Kilmer.

"Well, could you help me?" Dusty also knew that repeating herself wasn't the best thing to do, especially when Sana was in a reactionary state.

"Who is it?" She asked. Dusty was momentarily confused.

"It's Dusty."

"No, no, I know who you are, who are you marrying?" She said. Subconsciously, she could see Sana pacing the floor of wherever she was.

"I…uh…well…"

"Who, Dusty."

"Bruce Wayne."

Silence reigned for a full thirty seconds. Dusty could imagine Sana's red hair almost quivering as her mind processed the information she had just received.

"You're kidding me? As in 'Prince of Gotham' Bruce Wayne? Tall, brown hair, green eyes, killer smile?"

"Wow, you basically described him right there."

"How did you get hooked up with him?" Sana's voice was incredulous.

"Well, you know how it is, you're at work, start meeting people, and what do you know, next thing you're dating the Prince of Gotham." Dusty sat down on her bed and pulled her feet up after her. "He's a really nice guy. Promise."

Her friend sounded a little skeptical. "I dunno, Dusty, weren't you the one that said all rich guys would've been blockheads, except for the fact that they had to know how to count so they could know how much money they had?"

Dusty winced. "Did I say that?"

She could almost hear Sana smile. "Yes, but I won't hold it against you. After disappearing for eight years, you're bound to change your mind. Of course I'll help you!"

Dusty relaxed her head so suddenly, she knocked it on the headboard. "Oh, thank you." She said, wincing and rubbing the back of her head. "So…Now that we have that established… Where have you been for the past eight years?" Her voice had gone slightly quiet.

"Oh, well, I've been busy, with my job, in France."

"So that's where the French came from. I was wondering. Meet any cute guys there?" She asked, smiling.

"Well, duh. There are always cute guys in France. Not that I really liked any of them, of course."

Dusty laughed. "You were always pickier about things than me. Of course, you always got asked out a lot more than me."

"Of course. Good thing we never liked the same boys, otherwise I'd probably ruin my nails repeatedly fencing with you."

"Well, I've branched out since then."

"Great. So what are you doing now? Last I heard you were a mechanic in some place in China."

"Well, Tibet specifically, and later Beijing, but I've moved back to Gotham now. What have you been doing?" She asked, settling into her chair.

"I'm a fashion designer, actually. I went to France when I was fresh out of college at age twenty-two, there I went to a beauty school for a year, did that whole bit… and then for another year I designed fashions for the French and Americans. Then, I came back at twenty-five, started my own beauty school, and have been here ever since. Pretty much I've been doing what I said I'd do."

"Wow… you've been busy." Dusty said. Sana sighed.

"Yeah. Oh, hey, I have another call. Sorry, normally I'd bounce it, but I'm expecting someone really important to phone…"

Dusty sighed. "Ok. I'll call you tomorrow. I think we'll have the wedding day sorted out by then."

Sana seemed to smile over the phone. "Ok. I'll see you later. Bye now."

"Bye." Dusty replied. She leaned against the headboard, thinking. Then standing up, she walked to her bathroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she remarked, "That was interesting."

Dusty woke up bright and early the next day. She looked at her clock, 6:25. She groaned, wanting to turn over and go back to sleep. But then she realized her objective for the day, to her ultimate disgruntlement, was organizing the day of her doom, also known as her date of marriage. She almost went back to sleep. Then, biting the bullet, she sighed and rolled out of bed. Landing on the floor, she pushed herself into a handstand. Falling back onto her feet, she bent back into a backbend, and then flipped her legs over to land on her feet. Sighing, she walked into the bathroom, picked an outfit from her bureau and turned on the shower.

What would the day bring?
By the time she'd dried her hair, and had gotten completely ready, it was seven o'clock. Pulling a jacket off the coat rack by her door, she walked out of her room. After grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl and leaving a note on the counter while passing through the kitchen, she left the house, strolling across the grounds, avoiding the wet patches from the day before. Incredibly, it seemed more like weeks since the water fight. Was that normal?

She sighed and climbed up the tree that she had hid in the other day. Over the past few weeks, ever since she discovered it, she'd spent more and more time here, amongst the leaves and the wind and just the outdoors, and yet not out in the stark wilderness. She came here whenever she needed to think about something. Lately there had been a lot to think about.

Today probably held the biggest thing of all. Leaning against the wide branch that was shaped like a chair, she pondered her problem. It wasn't as if she didn't want to get married ever, it was just the circumstances, and…She sighed. It was time to confess. It was because her mother wasn't here. In all her fantasies, her mother was present, and her father escorted her up the aisle. Sighing, she realized that if she waited for them, she wouldn't be married at all.

Suddenly her cell phone vibrated. She looked at the face of it. It was Bruce. Flipping her phone open, she said, "Hey."

"Hey, I saw your note, where about are you?" He asked.

"I'm in the willow halfway around the house." She said, leaning against the cool wood.

"Mind if I come up?" He asked. She looked down. He was looking up at her from the base of the tree.

"No, come on up." She said, flipping her phone closed. He jumped up into the tree, scaling it in less time than Dusty had. He reached her branch and sat sideways on it. Then he was silent. She didn't speak either, and for a while, they just sat enjoying the silence of the midsummer morning.

"So…" Bruce started, and then stopped himself. She turned her head toward him.

"What?"

He shrugged it off. "Nothing." Dusty wasn't convinced, but she didn't push it. Not for another five minutes, while she tried to figure out what he was going to say. When she couldn't figure it out, she spoke.

"Are you sure? You seemed kind of worried about something." Her eyes caught his, and held, almost daring him to deny her.

He sighed, "You just seemed so… unwilling last night. I really hate to force you into something like this."

Dusty looked down. "Well…I have to say I was being kind of selfish." She said. She could feel his eyes on her, and she continued, "I guess…" She looked up brushing wisps of hair out of her face, but avoiding Bruce's eyes, "I guess I didn't want to face it without my mom. I should be used to the idea that she's gone… but I'm not, really." She said, leaning her head back. The pain in her voice was an old ache, one that she didn't often bring out. Then she looked up at him. "But I will marry you. I know everything in the world won't bring her back, but I can move forward without her."

"Are you sure?" He asked. She looked at him a long moment.

"Yeah." She said. "So. When's the wedding?" She asked. Bruce laughed.

"Well, it's kind of strange that you'd be asking me, but how does mid-August sound?"

"Isn't your birthday in mid-August?" She asked.

"Yeah, why?"

Dusty pinched her eyes shut, "Because sorry to go all picky and socialite on you, but it's generally considered faux pas to have your wedding the same month as your birthday…" She said apologetically. "And my birthday's the month after, so…I guess it's October."

"Alright. Say…the twenty-third?" He said. Dusty shrugged.

"Sounds good." Dusty reflected for a moment that if one didn't know what they were talking about, they could have been making an appointment.

"So… Have you picked a wedding planner?" Bruce asked. Dusty nodded.

"Yeah, her name's SeQuina Tormont. She's an old friend." Bruce raised his eyebrows.

"One that you can get in touch with after nine years? Impressive."

Dusty laughed, "Well, since we were veritably inseparable when we were younger, I guess we could call on each other after long times apart. She seemed completely normal when I called her last night."

"Hmmm, up after ten-thirty. Typical socialite then." Dusty laughed.

Dusty said. "Sort of, only she only picks up gossip magazines if someone she knows is on the front page. She's got her own beauty school these days. And she's a certified designer. I'll probably get someone to decorate, but for the clothes and stuff, she's the lady I would trust with my life."

"How do you know?" He asked. She smiled.

"I looked through my closet this morning. I unknowingly bought a dress by her, and it's one of my favorites."

"Which one is it?" Dusty smiled.

"I think I'll keep that a secret. I thought you had most famous designers memorized."

"Well, I have the designers themselves memorized by sight. Their clothes…well no one's perfect." Dusty smiled again.

"I don't blame you. I just keep tabs on my favorites." She said. Something beeped. Bruce looked down to a gadget on his belt.

"It's Alfred. Breakfast is ready. You want to come?" Dusty sighed. Quite honestly, even as good as she was feeling, she wasn't sure if she wanted to break the marriage news to Rick. Granted, knowing him, he'd probably figured it out by now, but still. Of course, if she put it off, it would probably show, and she'd feel guilty for not telling him every time she saw him.

"Uh, sure." She said. With that, Bruce started to climb down. After he was a sufficient distance below her, she started climbing down. After Bruce jumped out of the tree, he turned around to help Dusty down.

"It's okay, Bruce, I'm fine." Bruce shrugged, blinking in the sudden sunlight that had not been visible from inside the draping leaves of the ancient willow. Dusty jumped down, stumbling slightly, grateful that Bruce was outside the leaves and walked out to join him. The sun was warm on her face, and the soothing caress of the sunbeam left her relaxed.

"It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?" Bruce said as Dusty joined him.

"It's glorious. I think I'll take a book out later today and spend a few hours outside on the roof. Good call on the balcony up there." She said as they climbed up the stairs. "What are you planning to do today?" She asked.

"Um…probably do a little bit of night work, there are a few leads on Crane that I need you to look into, um… pick a suitable suit to get married in, and then eat dinner. What else are you planning to do today?"

"I think call Sana, research some more criminals, tell Rick about 'the bells', and…then after lunch…" Bruce laughed as they entered the kitchen.

"Morning, Dusty." Rick said from behind a cereal box, "Hey Bruce. Say, do you think that sodium and fluorine mixed would have a bigger reaction than either of them alone?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe so, considering they'd probably react to each other as well, though you probably would have to add a catalyst. How did you sleep?" She asked. Rick smiled.

"Really well. Did you know I have a bruise on my back where he dropped the garbage can on me?" His voice was eager. Bruce replied.

"I'm not surprised, Rick; however, it's generally better to jump out of the way of falling objects. Just for next time."

"We're working on that." Dusty promised.

Bruce laughed. As they ate the light breakfast of fruit and cereal, they laughed and joked. All of a sudden, Dusty, in normal conversational tone, said to Rick, "Hey, little man, Bruce and I are getting married around the twenty-third of October, is that okay with you?"

"Finally." Rick said, taking another bite of cereal. At the suddenly incredulous look on his sister and guardian's faces, he goes, "What? You guys were engaged…. That's what it means, right?" Dusty reeled in her jaw from off the table, and looked at Bruce, who looked halfway between laughing and being very, very perturbed.

After breakfast, Dusty made a call as she casually sifted through documents on her computer down in the Batcave. As she skimmed through the documents at high-class criminals and mobsters, she tried to hold back the slowly rising feelings of resentment. It bothered her that even after Bruce learned the fact that she had been on the run for a year before he showed up, he still wouldn't let her help on anything but paper pushing.

"Hey, my billionaire's fiancée! How goes it? You finally got a date for me?" Sana said before Dusty had even said her name.

"Sana, how many people have you said that to today?" She said, scrolling through an article on Carmine Falcone. A notice on the bottom of the article said, 'apprehended'.

"Only about four. So, do you have a deadline for me?" Sana asked. Dusty smiled.

"Yeah, It's October 23. Hey, what's your charge? It doesn't really matter, I'd just like to know so I can judge if I can afford to ship myself off to the Riviera for my honeymoon."

"Whoo. Honeymoon on the French Riviera. What if Bruce doesn't want to go?"

"Then I'll just go by myself. I hear that's what rich people do most of the time anyway." Dusty sighed. She clicked a random link and froze. Crane's smug face popped up on her browser. Man, the guy was creepy. Even without the crazy stories Bruce had told her. She reduced down the browser to look at later.

"Ha, ha, very funny." Sana said as Dusty shook herself. "My charge is about two thousand a week, but as a friend, this is on the house, provided you pay for all the fixings."

Dusty smiled, "So the honeymoon to France is a go?" She said.

"Book yourself some first class tickets, hon."

Both were silent for a moment. Dusty ran her fingers over the keyboard, pressing a few keys to bring up a game of solitaire, and exiting the program after moving a few cards, once again bringing up Crane's history.

"So I suppose we should meet somewhere to talk more details." Dusty said, scrolling through the details of Crane's life. All of the information that had come available since he'd disappeared was very disturbing, sending shivers up her spine.

"Yeah. Want to meet at the Starbucks on Ninth and Cannon?" Dusty laughed. The elevator opened and Bruce stepped through, putting a mug on Dusty's desk. She nodded her thanks to him as he patted her on the shoulder.

"You want to meet at a coffee shop to discuss wedding details?" She said. Bruce froze for a split second and turned around, obviously interested in her conversation. Dusty leaned back and put her feet up on her desk.

"Of course not, but it's not as if I can afford anything else." Sana said. "It's an expensive coffee shop, at least."

Dusty laughed. "That it is. However, I'm not quite sure I want to be seen in a coffee shop with one of the most prestigious designers in America. Well, not really anyway, no offense to you. Why don't you just come over here on…" She motioned Bruce over. He held out his fingers for a date. "The fourteenth?" Thank goodness for sign language. "You know, next week? That way we'll be able to do all the color things and stuff."

"Color things and stuff? That is pure Dusty if I have ever heard it." Sana said. Dusty smiled.

"Yeah, well, if there were anyone else who was me, the world would be in trouble." Bruce nodded his acknowledgement in earnest, and Dusty kicked him lightly off from where he was sitting on her desk. He smiled and he took a sip from his mug and walked over to his own desk.

"I'm hearing you there, girl. So, your place on the fourteenth." Sana said. "By the way, not to seem rude, where is your place?"

"Um…" Dusty was unsure how to put this, "The biggest house on Crescent Manor Drive."

"That's Wayne Manor."

"Oh, does it have a name?" Dusty was very nervous now, gripping her pen like there was no tomorrow.

Sana sighed, "You know I will expect you explain."

Dusty let out a very relieved breath, "Yes. I'll tell you when you get here. And I'll talk with Bruce about the colors." She said. What would only be described as coldness seeped through the phone down Dusty's spine with Sana's words. Something was wrong, and Dusty didn't have to be near Sana to sense that the designer was not happy

"You do that. I'll see you on the fourteenth, Miss Grayson." Then she hung up. Shutting off her phone, Dusty put her head in her hands and resisted the urge to cry while she composed herself.

"Dusty, what's wrong?" Bruce asked. Dusty uncovered her eyes.

"Nothing. Just not willing to research psychotic psychiatrists who try and drive people insane for fun." She said. Bruce smiled and touched her arm.

"Nice try. Your friend thinks we're more than just living in the same house, right?" Dusty sighed.

"Yeah, that's the general idea. And since we're both kind of…conservative people…" She let out a loud groan. "The fourteenth is either going to zip up on me unprepared, or this is going to be the longest week of my life."

Two things: One, I know a lot of people live for years while being engaged, but I've grown up in a rather conservative family, where basically the idea of being engaged was to get married pretty soon thereafter. Hence, therefore...etc.

Second, this may look like about four chapter stuck together. Not true. It is only two chapters stuck together, necessitated by the fact that again, one of them was filler, or very near to it, and I wanted to progress faster in the story. I hope you don't mind. ;)

Thanks to J.B. Wolfe for editing this chapter since I didn't get it to Bryt fast enough. Also, Congrats to J.B. for celebrating a birthday this month! Many best wishes.

Thanks to crazikido2, PATDfan2012, Tiz-a-Cookie, Bryt, and motherduckatschool for reviewing, and all those who added me to their Story Alert/Favorites list.

Until next week!

~Sabre