Well, here we are, chapter 25!

Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Five

The fourteenth chose to creep up on Dusty like a communicable disease after one was exposed. She knew pretty much exactly when it was coming, just not how bad it would be when it finally hit. She didn't need to worry. By the time Sana walked through the door, Dusty could tell that either Sana had come to terms with whatever she thought was happening, or Dusty was in for the talking-to of her life.

Introductions went easily. "Bruce, this is SeQuina Tormont, Sana, this is Bruce Wayne, my fiancé. Rick, this is Sana, Sana, this my little brother Rick." And so on. Dinner was also a nice event, with Sana being a little less forthcoming than Dusty remembered her to be, but in a fine state of mind, considering where she could be at the moment.

After dinner, dessert, and a bit of cross-questioning by Bruce in Sana's general direction, Dusty and Sana finally went on a walk on the grounds.

"So…he seems nice." Sana said, her red-gold hair shining in the lights from the house. She seemed so small compared to Dusty, making her feel protective, and overly cautious.

"He is." Taking a deep breath, she thought for a brief, vain moment: here goes! Before barreling on ahead. "Sana, we're just living in the same house... home… establishment… I promise nothing…else is happening. We are just two regular adults, who happen to be engaged, who live in the same house. I have my room, and he has his. There's-" Sana burst out laughing.

"What?" Dusty felt somewhere between betrayed and embarrassed.

"Bruce already called me. I was about to hang up, but then realized that as the fiancé of my best friend, I should at least try to listen to him. Luckily I did. Didn't he tell you?" Sana's perfect smile grew as her old friend's face darkened slightly.

"No…he didn't." Dusty said peevishly. Sana patted Dusty's arm.

"Don't worry about it." Sana said, "It's a testament to how much he cares for you!" Dusty froze.

"Uh, Sana…" Dusty trailed off. Sana's eyebrows rose.

"Yes?" Sana asked. Dusty started backpedaling, deciding that she didn't want Sana to know just how horribly closed off and stubborn she'd gotten over the past eight years, and not just through impossible dreams and wishes, but by choice.

"Um, nothing. Just wanted to show you something. Watch the puddle." Dusty said, skirting a puddle that still hadn't evaporated from the water fight. She led her around to the back of the house. The moon hung huge in the sky.

"This is the view I have from my window. I'd show it to you from my actual bedroom but…" I didn't want you to see all my weapons out where I was cleaning them this morning, "It's better from outside. Plus, this way I can make sure we're alone." Dusty's face changed, "Seriously, how are you doing?"

"Besides being insanely jealous of your fiancé? I am terrific. It's also nice to know that you're keeping the pinky promise virtue pact we made when you were thirteen." Dusty smiled and motioned for the two women to sit down on a bench nearby.

"What about you?" Sana said, leaning back, pale skin almost glowing in the bright moonlight. "How are you doing?" Dusty balanced her two options. Tell the truth, and most likely get a very, very harsh lecture from Sana, or lie and make it seem to her that she was living out her dream. Duh.

"I'm doing really, really well." As much as she hated lying to her best friend, she had no idea if Sana was telling the truth about her background, and was trying, at least for Bruce's sake, to keep herself safe. Sighing, Sana ran her hand through her hair.

"Okay, what's wrong? I know you have millions, you have a billionaire fiancé, and you found your little brother after eight years. You, by all accounts of human sanity, regardless on whether you have any or not, should be the happiest lady in the world. Spill."

Dusty sighed, thinking of what she could tell her best friend. The time for lying was over, but…the time for absolute truth had not come. She looked at her friend urgently.

"Sana, I can't tell you everything. Not only would that take the better part of several years, but also it is extremely dangerous to know everything. Bruce is a great man, and I feel it is an honor to marry him, and I can't tell you how relieved I am to find Rick, but…" She looked down, "I can't tell you everything. Not yet."

Sana nodded, "I understand. But Dusty?" Dusty looked up, meeting Sana's dark brown stare. "I will need to know sometime. When all of this is over, I want to know what kind of trouble you've gotten yourself into." Dusty smiled, and leaned forward to give her a hug.

"Thanks, Sana, you're the bestest best friend in the world." Sana leaned toward her friend and hugged her back. Dusty leaned back.

"Just FYI, and to avoid any sort of misunderstanding, I am not in trouble with the law. Just so you know." She said, poking Sana in the shoulder. Sana smirked.

"Did I say you were?"

Dusty smiled, "I could tell you were thinking it." Sana smiled, and checked her watch.

"Well, Dusty, it's time for this little designer to scamper on home. Not only do I have to find the right fabric for your wedding dress, and all the appropriate draperies, but I have to get enough sleep and eat at the same time." Dusty laughed and the two women smiled. "So, do you have your bridesmaids and groomsmen picked out?" Sana asked as they walked back to the front of the house.

Dusty smiled, "I'd like a few friends of mine to be my bridesmaids, and you to be my maid of honor. As for the other required people…I'll dig them up somewhere." Sana smiled and climbed into her car.

"I'd be honored. At any rate, I'll need measurements when you do round up your people." Sana climbed into her Mini Cooper S Convertible.

"I'll do that." Dusty promised.

As Sana drove away, with Dusty staying behind, waving at her, it was hard for her to see her old friend go. As she walked up the front steps of the manor she had a hard time not shuffling her feet and feeling like a ten year old who just had to see her friend leave when she was moving away.

Bruce came up behind her. "You feeling okay, Dusty?" He asked, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Sort of. I just… it feels wrong keeping the information about Watson from her. She's my best friend, and…" Her voice cracked, "If Watson finds out, which I'm sure he will," Dusty turned around to face him, a step down from him, "Odds are she won't be alive when it's all over with."

"We'll find a way to protect her. But for now, I think to keep her in the dark would be the best thing. She seems like a sensible enough person, and I doubt that she'll go announcing to anyone that she's your best friend." He said, taking Dusty's arm and leading her up the stairs. "For now, you need to go inside. I need to go out soon, and I need you to check my grapple gun before I go out again."

Dusty braced herself before stopping, causing him to turn around. "What is it?" He asked.

"I – I." She stopped herself momentarily before barreling on. "I want to go with you. I feel sick and tired of not doing-"

Bruce cut in smoothly, "You know I can't let you do that, Dusty. It would be taking a few giant steps backward after all we've done to make sure you're safe." Dusty bit her lip and looked away.

"Fine." She said, trying to keep the resentment from her voice, "So what's wrong with your grappling gun?"

"Dusty, you do understand? You won't go out?" He said. She took a deep breath, meeting his gaze steadily.

"Yes, I promise I will not go out, and yes, I understand perfectly. Now, what is wrong with your grappling gun?" She said.

"The motor has been having trouble lately." He said, starting to walk. She followed, catching up and keeping pace with him.

"You've probably stripped the gears, or run out the battery, I can repair either in about a half an hour. Think you can wait that long?" She asked, as they walked into the library.

"Yeah." Bruce opened the cabinet, and then turned back to Dusty. Curiously, she was looking long and hard at the piano. "What?"

Her mouth opened, then closed. She shook off the curious expression, looked up, and smiled at Bruce, "Nothing, I'm fine."

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah." She said, her eyes flicking up to meet Bruce's eyes before moving back to walk forward into the hidden passageway. As they both got into the elevator, Dusty became very silent, apparently deep in thought. Bruce, ascertaining she didn't want to talk about it, left it alone. Although she generally told him the things he asked her about, after letting her down, he didn't want to be even more obnoxious by pestering her about something she didn't want talk about.

The elevator hissed open, and the two adults walked out into the damp, cool air.

Two months passed quickly into a cool August, much like the year before. Before Bruce knew it, it was his birthday, and he was suddenly thirty-one. It didn't really help that Rick kept on teasing him every chance that he got, but was mildly placated that Dusty kept on reminding Rick that she was only three years younger than Bruce, and it was rude to tell a lady that she was old.

The morning of Bruce's birthday, the house was abuzz. As it was a Tuesday morning, Dusty and Bruce were frantically trying to get ready for work. Well, more like Bruce was doing his best to unobtrusively hinder Dusty while she was getting ready. Finally, in exasperation, she gave him a leveling stare, and asked, "Do you actually want something, or you just having fun making me late for work?"

Bruce smiled, "A little of both. I want to know what you got me for my birthday."

Dusty smiled back and tapped his nose playfully; "You will just have to wait along with everyone else until this evening, barring any Gotham City takeovers." She grabbed her purse, smoothed her blue pinstriped dress suit and sighed, checking her watch, "Well, I need to run, otherwise I won't be able to use traffic as an excuse."

Bruce followed her to the door of the garage. "Need anything?" He asked. She shook her head.

"Just kind of nervous about this interview. I mean, AP is one thing, but…. manager is another thing."

"Dusty, you're the only one in your department." He said, leaning against the door, trying not to put too much feeling into his voice. Honestly, he was tempted to laugh, which wasn't something Dusty would take lightly.

"I know, but still. It's just kind of the word 'interview' or 'speech' that makes me feel rather nervous. Especially if it's one on one with Mr. Fox. Please don't tell him I said that." She said, visibly resisting the urge to run her hands through her hair, which was in an exquisite bun.

"Not unless under extreme torture." He said. She smiled, smoothing her skirt again. "Hey." He said. She looked up. "Relax. You've known Mr. Fox for a year. Why get worried now? He'd promote you without the interview, only it's against company policy to do so."

She smiled and tilted her head to the side. "And why is that?" He grimaced.

"Corruption and inept managers." He said.

"Ah."

"Quite so." He agreed. "So, you should probably scoot. But first, a good luck kiss from the birthday boy. Tradition." Before she could say a word, he leaned forward and gave her a peck on the lips.

Trying to gather herself into a slightly functional state, she remarked, "I'm not sure you really qualify as a boy anymore."

He sighed dramatically, "Well, it sounds better than 'birthday man'."

"Yeah." She said quietly, "Well," She grabbed her keys out her purse, "I have to run."

"See you later!" Bruce said as Dusty ran down the steps of the garage, climbed into her car. Dusty waved as she started her car, and then drove off down the driveway and out of sight.

Dusty sighed, her lips still tingling, and was very grateful that he didn't question her further about what she was going to get him. Truth be told, if she told him she was going to get him anything similar to what she was actually going to get him, he… well, to be completely fair, she wasn't sure what he would do. Most likely he would probably laugh.

However, going to pick up said item was going to be stickier than she thought. She supposedly only had an interview that day, which shouldn't take more than an hour, tops, before she left for her appointment with the contractors and yet it was going to take almost an hour round-trip, let alone the time to fill out all the papers and everything. Thankfully, there wasn't really any interview. Well, actually, there was, but she had it last week, and was technically taking a day off. It was a miracle that they'd been able to hide all of this from Bruce in the first place, and then another miracle that it was now being pulled off without a hitch.

The reason she'd dressed up, however, was also a different reason. She was also off to meet the wedding contractors, and with Sana by her side, she was going to arrange where it was to be held, what flowers to be used, and so on. As she drove, she watched the scenery, seeing the greens of late summer blend into a steady stream as she coaxed more speed out of her Mazda.

She made it there in about twenty-five minutes. Striding inside, breathing in the scent of leather and gasoline fumes, she felt strangely at home. Walking up to the front desk of the Harley Davidson store, she put on her most authoritative, intimidating smile, and spoke to the cashier.

"Hello, my name is Justine Grayson. I believe I ordered a motorcycle a few weeks ago. I was informed that it would be in today." The heavily bearded and tattooed man gave the very primly dressed Dusty a rather incredulous look. Her look hardened slightly.

"Grayson?" He asked, his voice deep and slightly rough. She nodded once. He checked his stack of papers. Pulling one file out of a mass of others, he checked the name.

"VRSCD Night Rod?" he said, giving her another once-over, "Are you riding it home?"

Putting on her best innocent, vulnerable voice, "Didn't you fit it with the side gas pedal like I asked?" Her eyes, however contradicted her voice with a slightly mocking, but very amused stare.

The biker knew better than to answer that question. One look at her and he felt as vapid as the personality she had just put on. He took the folder and motioned for her to follow him.

"If you'll just follow me, Ms. Grayson." He said, grabbing his jacket off of the desk. She walked obediently behind him, to a storage area.

"You keep your bikes in storage garages? Won't they get weathered?" She asked.

"Each garage has a special insulation, as well as temperature control. Not that they need it here on the east coast. It's pretty much temperate all year round, excepting this last year." He said gruffly, sounding grudgingly impressed at how much she knew about the upkeep of vehicles. If only he knew.

"Wow. So, could I ask someone to deliver it to my house, or do I have to take it myself? I was informed that I needed to come myself to confirm, but they said I could have someone bring it back for me." The guy paused, unlocking one of the garages, giving her slightly weirded out look. Impressions or not, it was still odd to hear techno-babble from someone who looked like her. Then he turned back to his job, and opened the door. Stepping back, he let her walk in first, to let her view a covered vehicle. After he closed the door behind him, he took the cover off the black motorcycle.

"Perfect." She told him. He nodded.

"So…if you don't mind me asking…." He trailed off. Dusty smiled a bit to herself, before answering what she knew he was wondering about.

"No, it's not for me. But I will most likely borrow it once in a while." She said, touching the leather seat softly.

"Ah. So, where do you want it delivered?" He asked.

"Number Three, Crescent Manor Drive at exactly five thirty this afternoon." She said, folding her arms.

"You want it delivered to Bruce Wayne's house?" He asked incredulously.

"Why not? It's his birthday." She said, as if this was obvious. It was actually rather fun to mislead people.

"Do you know him?" He asked, sounding even more weirded out.

"Very well." She said, "Of course, if I didn't, it would be illegal to 'borrow' his motorcycle, yes?" She continued conversationally.

"Er…yes. So, Bruce Wayne's house, at exactly five thirty." He said, writing it down on his clipboard. Dusty nodded.

"Where do I sign?" She asked. He pointed to a place on the clipboard, and she signed it quickly and neatly.

"There!" She said, handing the clipboard back to the large man and started to walk away. Pulling the cover back over the motorcycle, the somewhat bewildered man followed the authoritative young woman out of the garage.

"Well," He said, trying to sound like he wasn't confused, "We'll have it over there at five thirty. Want anything else on it? Bows, cards, girls…" At the look on her face, he stopped and cleared his throat. "Never mind. We'll have it over there on time."

She smiled and walked into the building, with the man obediently following, giving her the receipt and the registration for the vehicle, "Thank you. I will let you know if I ever want to buy another motorcycle. Good-bye!" he shook his head as she walked out the door. One of his friends walked up.

"Who was that, Jack?" Jack shook his head, stymied by the classy, bossy young woman who had somehow managed to make him feel more nervous than he had in a long time.

"I have no clue."

Dusty climbed in the car, tucking the motorcycle's papers in a portfolio she'd left on the front seat. As she sat down, her cell phone vibrated. She looked at the front.

Bruce.

Drat. Putting on her best relieved voice, she picked up the phone. Thank goodness Mr. Fox was in on her story.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked, starting her car, backing up faster than what was probably legal.

"I need to know your password onto your desktop." Dusty pulled in her chin as she sped onto the highway back into Gotham.

"Why?" She could almost hear the sneakiness in his voice.

"I need to look on your profile of Crane." He said. She heard a creak, and knew instinctively that he was looking through the kitchen.

"I sent that to you before I left. And the cookie dough ice cream is for your party, so don't go eating it right now." She said, coaxing her Mazda above seventy miles per hour. She looked at the clock. It was almost eleven. She had fifteen minutes until her appointment. Looking at the speedometer in her car, she realized if she…well, broke the law, she could make it with less than five minutes to spare. Drat. Then again…keeping cover?

"But I'm hungry." Bruce protested, interrupting her thoughts.

"Bruce, if you want something to eat, ask Alfred. Either that or make something yourself. I know you know how to cook. Well, sort of." She said, making her decision and speeding up to ninety after moving out of range of a highway patrolman.

"Fine. When will you be home?" He asked. She swerved around a semi, and then answered.

"Around one. I'm on my way to the planning appointment with Sana and that one lady who's finding the building." She said, taking the exit into Gotham, and slowed down to about sixty, then sliding around a corner to the backstreets, she whipped through them. Thank goodness she'd been studying the maps lately.

Bruce started to say something. "You know what, Bruce, hold on for a second." She said, dropping the phone into her lap, and fishtailed around a tight corner. Picking up the cell phone, she apologized. "What were you going to say?"

"Oh, I was just looking at the color swatches you left around and I agree with you - navy blue is going to be our best bet at the wedding. What was the screeching noise?" He asked. Dusty calmly answered.

"Some crazy driver in a Mazda, don't worry about it." She said, turning out onto the main street of Gotham, and speeding up. Bruce was silent for a moment.

"Dusty, how fast are you going?" He asked, suddenly sounding very suspicious. She decelerated as fast and as safely as she could.

"Fifty-five." She said truthfully, turning on her turn signal and slowing down to turn the corner into the wedding planner's office parking lot, then, finding a parking place near the door, she pulled her car to a stop and turned it off. "It doesn't matter, I just got to the planner's office."

"You can go fifty-five in downtown Gotham?" He asked.

"Apparently at eleven fifteen in the morning you can. There actually wasn't that much traffic this morning." She said. True enough, she'd bypassed it on the side streets. Trying to get by Wayne Tower at any time of the day was about as easy as getting through any super-city in the world at rush-hour: Utterly impossible, unless the world was ending.

"Really? Well, that's some news. What a birthday present. Gotham has outdone itself." He said. A door slammed somewhere in the background on his end. Dusty gathered up her notes and measurements that she had gathered, and then stepped out of the car.

"Tell me about it. Next year I'll just spend the whole day cruising around." She said, walking toward the building, "So, what are you doing?" She asked, opening the building door. Nodding at the receptionist, she walked across the lobby of the building and pressed the button for the elevator.

"Looking at the profile for Crane. What about you?" He asked, sounding preoccupied.

"Waiting for a very slow elevator. I'm on my way up to Sana and What's-her-name. Navy blue, you said? What about the midnight blue, did you look at that one?" She said remembering something Sana had said.

"Yeah…ooh. That's a nice color. Okay, on second thought, either navy or midnight blue, your choice. When are you going shopping for a dress?" He asked, there was a brief rattle and then a clunk. "Ow!"

"What happened?" Dusty asked, a little worried. If he was breaking into her desk, there would be the devil to pay when she got back.

"Ow! Nothing. Knocked a paperweight off my desk. Nothing to worry about." He said, the pain his voice at least somewhat calming her suspicions, at least for now.

"Did you knock it onto your foot?" She asked, as the elevator opened. She walked into it.

"No." he said defensively, "Just bumped it on my knee. I'm not a complete klutz."

Dusty laughed as the bell announcing her arrival at the appropriate floor went off. "Well, Bruce, I have to go. Sana was never tolerant of her own cell phone, let alone other people breaking etiquette therein. See you when I get back, and stay out of the fridge."

"Bye, Dusty."

"Bye, Bruce." She said, flipping her phone closed. She went to the appropriate door, and knocked. The door opened to Sana's bright face, her red hair pulled back into a stylish up do, held up with only a pencil and a pen.

"Dusty! Glad you could make it. This is Glynis Sherrod." She drew aside to see a severe older woman. "She's the best in the business, and she is very good at getting what she goes for." Dusty shook Ms. Sherrod's hand.

"Glynis, this is Justine Grayson. She's the one who's getting married to Bruce Wayne." Sana said. Ms. Sherrod inclined her head.

"Very nice to meet you, Ms. Grayson. Miss Tormont has given me the details, and I have chosen a few places. If you could follow me, we'll take you to a few of the locations…"

I know the biker was a little cliche...sorry about that.

Well, thanks to Bryt for at least glancing through it. I know you haven't had a lot of time this week.

Also thanks to motherduckatschool, Bryt, BookWormSara, and Tiz-a-Cookie for reviewing.

Also, thanks to everyone who added me to Story Alert, and to those who looked through my Pirates story on its last week of like. Man, I feel like I've killed one of my own children.

Anyway, please review!

~Sabre