Chapter Fifty-Four

Tam glanced at the huge dog that was currently watching Felicity prepare the salad for lunch with great interest, "Baby, when I said I wanted a dog I meant a 'dog', not a pony."

She sighed and handed Ace a carrot slice which he ate greedily before picking up the peeler and dealing with the cucumbers, "It's Bruce's dog; consider him to be a loaner or a practice dog."

"A practice dog," she said flatly.

"Yeah, you know, to ease you into the idea of taking care of a dog," she said handing Ace another carrot after he gave her a low 'woof'.

Tam tilted her head, giving her an incredulous look, as she gestured toward the dog in question, "How is *that* easing into anything? He weighs two hundred fricking pounds," she asked her.

Felicity looked at him carefully, "More like one-seventy, one-eighty tops, isn't that right, Ace?" She made a kissy noise toward the dog who was dancing on his front paws impatiently, "Want another carrot?" She asked and he gave another 'wuff' of air and bounced on his feet slightly as she handed him another before sneaking a sip of her coffee.

She'd been cutting down considerably on her caffeine intake but when Laurel insisted they stop for coffee on the way home, she wasn't going to say no. Besides, ever since they walked through the door Tam had been having a hissy fit over the dog so she needed the pick me up in order to deal with her. Admittedly, wine would be better but with two recovering alcoholics in the house she figured a large Café Cubano (which was the size of a regular coffee but since the Cuban espresso was normally served as a shot, it was the equivalent of four demitasse servings) with extra crema and lots of demerara sugar was a better idea, especially considering how little sleep she'd gotten the night before.

She listened to Tam with half an ear as she savored the very strong, very sweet coffee with a hum of satisfaction. The last time she had this particular drink was right after the thing with the Poo Pirate. She ordered Thea to go get the strongest coffee they had at her favorite coffee place, The Geeky Monkey, which was located just down the street from the club, then went into a cleaning jag the likes of which none of them had ever seen. When she finally crashed on the couch, the place was spotless and Diggle, Lance, and Roy were all hopping around on crutches with dust rags in their hands so she wouldn't yell at them anymore.

Oliver, naturally, skipped out the second he realized where things were headed. Domestics were never his strong suit.

To this day none of them would admit who it was that left the seat up but, whoever it was, they picked the wrong damn day for her to fall into the toilet, that's for sure.

Tam scowled at her, "When we talked about getting a dog I said 'a poodle' or 'a yorkie'; something we could buy sweaters for and put inside of a teacup!"

"We bought him sweaters," Laurel said from the other end of the table where she and Renee were folding laundry. "You should show her that rain coat we bought him; it's adorable. The minute we found it I just started hearing the 'Trust the Gorton's Fisherman!' jingle, you know?" She paused, "Damn, now I want fish sticks; I really hope those steaks are going to be done soon."

"You are like a bottomless pit," Renee told her as she reached for another Choco and popped it in her mouth. "How do white girls get away with this shit? If I ate like that, my ass would be swallowing this chair right now. Even with working out constantly my butt makes Jennifer Lopez's look like she needs to gain a few pounds just to catch up. Your butt though is all tight and perky despite the fact that you eat like a five year old."

"Well, thank you for the butt thing, but I usually don't eat like this," she told her as she dipped her cookie in her milk. "This is me making up for lost time. As soon as I get all 'toxified' again I'll back off." She shrugged, "I'm actually thinking about taking up smoking in order to speed up the process of getting all the toxins back into my blood stream."

"Besides, all skinny white girls have small asses," Tam told her from the other end of the table. "It's like their superpower."

"Hey, I'm a white girl and I have a nice round butt," Felicity told her.

"You're not a white girl anymore," she told her. "It goes back to the whole 'Girl's in a Fishbowl Rule'; over the years you've assimilated enough that you now have black girl ass. It's the reason we can share jeans and shorts without me looking like I'm poppin' muffins and biscuits north and south of the border all the time."

"Muffins and biscuits," Renee snorted.

"Now I want muffins and biscuits," Laurel muttered.

"I swear to God, you are driving me nuts," Renee said shaking her head.

"Anyway, it really is adorable," Felicity said absently as she sliced up the peeled cucumber and tossed it over the lettuce before reaching for another to peel. "It even came with a little hat and rain galoshes. He's going to look just like Paddington Bear, aren't you Ace?" She said cooing to the dog who pawed the air again for another carrot.

"More like a regular bear," Tam grumbled. "As in Grizzly!"

"Look, I'm sorry, but dressing dogs in clothes is just stupid. Besides, there is no way in hell that dog is going to let you put him in a rain coat much less a hat and booties," Renee said dryly as she folded some of Bruce's new socks.

"Thank you!" Tam told her, "And what about the teacup? I said 'teacup', remember? As in 'teacup poodle'! Outside of the rides at Disneyworld, they don't make teacups big enough for that thing!"

"Fine; if you want a tiny little dog, then get one," Felicity told her as she dropped the rest of the cucumber slices in the large bowl before reaching for the celery next. "Get two dogs! Sara and Laurel are getting a cat."

"But no birds, okay?" Laurel said looking at her. "A cat, maybe two, couple of dogs, fine; but if you get Sara started on birds again then this place is going to become one big huge zoo."

"It pretty much already is! After all, Felicity got us a friggin' elephant! If I get a little dog that thing is going to eat it!" Tam glowered, "And good luck with getting a cat; might as well just name it 'Appetizer' and get it over with."

"If you get a black cat you could name it 'Midnight Snack' instead," Renee joked.

Felicity shot them both a dirty look and passed the large bowl of salad to her sister who set it in the center of the table before handing her another empty bowl so she could get started on the fruit. "Ace is a perfectly well behaved dog and he loves other animals, cats in particular."

"Yeah, for dinner," Tam retorted, taking the peelings off the table and dumping them in the trash.

"No, not for dinner!" She scowled as she sliced up the apple and dumped in it the bowl before handing a slice to Ace who accepted it eagerly.

"Why not? He eats everything else apparently! What kind of dog eats salad?" Tam snorted. "It's defective or something!"

"For your information, dogs are omnivores just like people and enjoy fruits and vegetables as part of a well-balanced diet," she said smartly as she handed him another slice of apple. "I asked the guy at the pet store and he said that dogs like apples, carrots, and sweet potatoes especially, but you should never give them onions, garlic, persimmons, grapes, raisins, avocados, nuts, tomatoes, or chocolate. I bought some books, too; one that's a kind of a general owner's manual, a pet cookbook, and a book on Great Danes. I also got a ton of dehydrated sweet potato treats and mint flavored dog biscuits for his teeth."

"A dog cookbook," Tam said flatly.

"Not to, you know, cook *dogs* but as a way to supplement his diet," she told her as she tossed in handfuls of blueberries and raspberries into the bowl then started cutting up the strawberries. "Alfred sent over plenty of his regular food but the guy at the pet store suggested I add some extra protein and veggies to his diet. I bought some brown rice, extra veggies, and some ground turkey and then I thought I might cut up some cantaloupe for his dessert since he said it really gives them a vitamin boost and helps with digestion. I figured I'd make up a bunch tomorrow and see if he likes it."

"Yeah, but how can you be sure he really likes that stuff? I mean, the meat I get, but cantaloupe and brown rice? It's not like he's tasting any of it; he just gobbles it up. Maybe he's just eating it because he assumes it's food and he's basically all stomach?" Renee asked dubiously.

"She has a point. I was looking at the news on my tablet and there was this Great Dane who ate forty-three and a half socks," Laurel told her. "They had to do surgery."

"What do you mean he ate forty-three and a *half* socks; what's half a sock?" Renee asked her. "Like one mismatched sock or like forty-three regular socks and one of those little no show ankle socks?"

"It just said 'half a sock', it didn't go into any particulars," she said. "The point is that Great Danes apparently eat just about anything so you might want to be careful what you feed him. If I were you I'd just stick to the dry food for now and do some more research first."

"And keep it away from the socks," Renee muttered.

Felicity glanced at the dog, "Good point." The dog's ears came forward and he tilted his head to look back at her. "Geez, I hope he doesn't get sick. That would be bad if I killed Bruce's dog less than one day in. The again, I wrecked Isabel's car after owning it for less than an hour."

"Look, you realize that if something happens and that thing pukes or has an accident how big of a mess that's going to be? You don't like poop," Tam said stubbornly, "Imagine what kind of poop something that big is going to be dropping."

"Doggie door," She told her, pointing her knife towards the sophisticated entry way that had been installed while they were out. "The gardeners are laying the sod now so, hopefully, no poop. Plus, Alfred arranged for someone to come walk him several times a day."

The surrounding rooftop garden was large enough to house an infinity pool, spa, as well as an entertainment area and several deck chairs. Alfred instructed the gardeners to remove much of the unnecessary furniture so they could lay two large blocks of Kentucky Blue grass, which she was told was a hearty winter sod, in slightly elevated beds that were approximately ten by twelve feet and another two much narrower strips of sod along the sides of the penthouse. In addition to the sod, they took away any plants that might be considered poisonous to house pets and replaced them with safer alternatives, added waste receptacles for his droppings, and installed a high tech dog house in the center of one of the sod beds. They also added some filtered fresh water drinking fountains that were heated slightly to avoid freezing and were connected to the water lines. Right now they were busy putting fencing around both the pool and the spa to prevent him from drinking the chemically treated water or accidently drowning.

In fact, the entire place was buzzing with activity. Tam and Zander had more than tripled the number of workmen and already she could see the place rapidly coming together with the addition of more furniture and the paint already up on some of the walls.

Not that she got to see much of the new furniture since everything was covered in tarps at the moment. Still, when she got home just seeing all the work that had already been done was enough to put a grin on her face that not even Tam's complaining about the dog could wipe away.

As for her sister, the first thing she did when they arrived home with their massive haul of groceries, pet supplies, men's clothing, and grill was introduce her to their new friends. Tam being Tam had Renee and Laurel acting like they were her long lost best friends within minutes while Wildcat, after a harmless round of flirting, went outside to set up the grill with Zander trailing close behind.

He managed to find something called a Kalamazoo Hybrid that was apparently every man's fantasy grill. It ran on gas, wood, and/or charcoal and was, according to the pamphlet that came with it, thirty-eight inches and 82,500 BTUs of pure ingenuity. The minute he came in with that thing all work on the penthouse stopped while every man in the place went outside to help set it up and drool as Wildcat showed it off like a proud new papa. After the set up and ceremonial firing up of the grill, the workmen all reluctantly went back to work while the older man conquered fire along with their lunch.

Frankly, she didn't care; all she heard was 'rotisserie' and she was sold. She figured if Bruce had a problem with her buying a $16,000.00 grill then she'd just remind him of the fact that he used her As Seen On TV countertop rotisserie that cost her four easy payments of $49.95 to bash Oliver over the head.

Even though they were a couple now, fiscal payback and food were still two of her favorite pastimes.

Plus, she really liked coming home to roasted chicken and a no muss, no fuss drip pan that went right into the dishwasher. She glanced out the French doors off of the kitchen to see Wildcat adjusting knobs as he regaled the workmen with an apparently hilarious story of his many and varied adventures.

"Remind me to go online and order a countertop rotisserie," she told her sister. "There's no way in hell I'm going to be able to figure out how to use that thing; I can barely light a fire in the fireplace."

"Then why did you buy it?" Tam asked in exasperation.

"I didn't, Bruce did," she told her as she continued to cut up fruit, "he just doesn't know it yet."

"Speaking of things your husband-to-be inadvertently purchased today; are you sure about these socks?" Renee asked as she held up one of the new pairs they bought that morning after leaving the car dealership. "They don't seem like Bruce's style to me."

She had a point. While she picked up several pairs of replacement socks in his normal somber color palette, she figured that since she was stealing them anyway, she might as well get a few in colors she liked as well. Before long they had a cart load of men's socks, undershirts, and boxer briefs from designers like Yohji Yamamoto, Paul Smith, and Alexander McQueen, her favorites being the ones by Robert Graham in wild colored stripes, paisley, argyle, and whimsical prints.

The other woman frowned as she held up a pair, "Bruce just doesn't strike me as the kind of guy used to wearing hotdogs and taxi cabs on his hot pink and purple striped socks."

"Actually, I bought those so we could steal them," she told her as she cued up her tablet and propped it on the side of the bowl.

"Oh, well, okay then," she shrugged and went back to folding.

"So wait, you're still marrying Bruce?" Tam asked her. "What about Arrow McBadboy? Didn't you tug on his bow string last night?"

Felicity paused the YouTube video she was referencing on how to cut up star fruit in order to give her sister a dirty look, "There are so many things wrong with that sentence, I don't even know where to begin." She frowned, "Wait; you know Oliver stayed over last night? How?"

"Yeah, of course I know he stayed over," she said slowly. "You told me to make him up a room yourself, remember? You called me…" she reminded her with a hint of sarcasm.

"For *Laurel*!" She said in aggravation. "I told you to make the room up for *Laurel*, not *Oliver*."

"You didn't say 'Laurel', you said 'a friend from out of town' so I just figured it was some kind of code for 'vigilante booty call'," she shrugged.

"No, there was no 'booty call'," she told her sister. "I'm with Bruce."

"Whatever," Tam said poutily. "I still think he's an asshole."

"Bruce is definitely an asshole alright," Renee said in agreement as she started folding t-shirts. "Plus, that could so be a code for 'vigilante booty call'."

"Not in Starling City, it's not. Where Felicity and I are from, the code phrase for 'vigilante booty call' is, 'So it looks like there's a new female mask in town'," Laurel said dryly.

"Unfortunately, she's not wrong," Felicity admitted reluctantly.

"I got the steaks!" Wildcat said, walking in from the cold with Zander trailing behind him. "I'm gonna put some foil over 'em and let 'em rest for a minute then we can eat."

"Foil's on the counter," Felicity said, gesturing with her knife as she continued to cut up the fruit. "I know Bruce is an asshole but so is Oliver."

Tam opened up the Ziploc of Chocos Laurel tossed in her direction and took out a couple before handing the bag back over to Renee, "No one is as big an asshole as Bruce, sorry."

"Got that right," Renee nodded as she took a cookie as well.

"God, these really are good," Laurel said, placing a few more on a napkin then popping one into her mouth. "By the way, thank you for buying whole milk because 2% is just water that happens to be white."

"And another thing, why didn't you pick up any soy milk?" Tam demanded.

Felicity looked at her, "Three reasons: One, I like whole milk. Two, no one likes soy milk; people only drink that crap if they have to. And three, I was the one doing the shopping; if you want soy milk then go buy some."

"Crabby," Tam muttered. "Should have asked Oliver to throw you a bone; might've loosened you up and cleared out the cobwebs."

Zander snorted and accepted the bag of cookies Laurel handed him then offered one to Wildcat who took it then looked over the girls seated around the table in bemusement, "What is it you gals are talkin' about in here?"

"The fact that Bruce is an ass and Baby can do better," Tam told him.

"I've never met Bruce, but to be fair Ollie's no picnic," Laurel assured them. "He's a very sexy, very built hottie with abs that could make angel's cry and who gives really, really great cookie but he can still be an asshole when he wants to be."

"What the hell is a cookie?" Wildcat asked with a frown.

All of the women and Zander turned to look at him.

"You're a hundred and six years old and you don't know what a cookie is?" Renee asked.

"Honey, I'm as gay as they come and even I know what that is," Zander said cheekily as he plopped down beside Tam.

"So what is it?" The older man asked.

Renee sighed, picked up a Choco from the napkin in front of Laurel, then showed it to him, "Cookie."

He frowned at her, "Yeah, and?"

She made a show of twisting the cookie apart then slowly licking the creamy icing before tossing Laurel a suggestive wink, "Just to put it out there, I bet you I could give Oliver a run for his money on the cookie thing; you know, just in case you wanted to go back to college sometime."

Laurel snickered, "Nice."

"Oh!" Wildcat said then nodded, "Yeah, I've been known to make a few cookies crumble myself from time to time."

"You're creeping me out here, you know that, right?" Renee asked him. "It's like listening to my grandpa talking about getting some strange during Prohibition."

"I used to deliver Prohibition Whiskey for the local mob on my bike when I was a kid," Wildcat mused. "I even met Lucky Luciano once; guy gave me a silver dollar for runnin' across the street for a carton of Lucky Strikes. You know, back then that was a lot of money and when my old man found out where I got it from, he about skinned me alive even though I used it to buy a whole week's worth of groceries instead of blowin' it at the picture show with my buddies! Hell, the guys at the factory were only getting' two bits an hour startin' pay." He gave them a crooked smile, "See, my uncle just died and I remembered my aunt gettin' upset 'cause bread went from a nickel to nearly eight cents a loaf so I went out an'-"

"And the fact that you can even say shit like that is the reason why you can never talk about sex in front of me ever again," Renee said, cutting him off with a shudder.

"Your friend has a…unique sense of humor," Zander said, turning to her and Tam in quiet confusion. "It's almost like he really believes he's over a hundred years old. Is he an actor or something?"

"No, he's just got a, um, very dry wit," Felicity told him.

"I'll say." Zander turned to Laurel, "So, just to make sure; you want your bedroom bright and colorful with lots of soft surfaces but you aren't hung up on any particular style."

"Yeah," she said wrinkling her nose a bit. "For a long time I was all beige and orderly; I'd just like something different, you know? I want the room to be colorful and relaxing; no sleek lines or hard corners. Basically, I want something kind of fun but Zen, you know?"

"We can do that," Zander nodded.

Tam nodded along with him, "I'm thinking a mix of modern contemporary and antiques; crisp whites, bright colors, some unexpected textures, lots of flow…"

"Like an English garden vibe with soft mosquito netting and a four-poster bed, then we can do a day spa theme in the bathroom with a bamboo wall treatment?" Zander finished for her.

"I swear to God we were separated at birth," Tam told him in a sincere tone.

"Sweetheart, didn't anyone ever tell you that inside every gay man lives a pissed off black woman?" He returned.

"Makes sense," Wildcat said, reaching over to steal a strawberry from the bowl of fruit salad, "I've been told I'm a lesbian in a man's body myself. It's why my cookie eatin' skills are so well honed," he grinned devilishly as he threw Renee a mischievous glance.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Renee said wryly. "You're a lesbian all right; a very muscular and hairy lesbian who doesn't need batteries for her penis."

"What can I say? I'm butch," he said with a smirk.

"That reminds me, the wine bar? It definitely needs to go," Felicity told him.

Everyone stared at her.

"How does that remind you of the wine bar?" Tam asked her.

"I went to a lesbian bar last night," she said with a shrug.

"Without me?" Tam whined. "Damn it, now I am mad at you! Where?"

"Sirens."

"I love Sirens," Tam pouted. "That place is my jam on Thursdays."

"Really?" Renee asked, perking up.

Felicity rolled her eyes, "Look, I told Sara that when everything calms down we would do a whole Fred and Ginger girl's night on the town, happy?"

"Do I get to be Fred?" She asked her.

"Sara called dibs on Fred."

"Actually, Sara called dibs on Gene Kelly," Laurel reminded her.

"Fine, you can be Fred and she can be Gene," she told her.

"Who can I be?" Renee asked.

"You can be Cyd Charisse and Laurel and I can be Ginger and Judy Garland." Felicity told her.

"Judy Garland, huh?" Laurel said dryly, "Talk about typecasting; I get to be the drug addicted alcoholic who has a history of toxic relationships."

"Fine, you can be Cyd Charisse and Renee can be, um…" she racked her brain for a minute, "Howard Keel."

"Howard Keel?" Renee asked dubiously. "Wasn't he more of a singer?"

"Fine, Danny Kaye," she told her.

She wrinkled her nose, "Danny Kaye? Really?"

Felicity scowled, "Why am I the one who has to come up with this crap? Pick whoever you want to be and we'll go with it!"

"I want to be Dean Martin," Renee told her without even having to think about it.

"Dean Martin wasn't a dancer," Laurel pointed out.

"No, but he was the epitome of cool," the other woman said with a smirk. "Like me."

"I met Dean Martin once," Wildcat mused. "Actually, I also slept with Judy Garland." His eyes glittered naughtily, "And, believe you me, the way I had her heels clickin' together, let's just say I had her yelling about comin' to Kansas in no time flat!"

Renee turned to him and pointed an accusing finger in his direction, "Okay, that just now? That was just wrong on so many levels. This is the shit I was talking about; you just completely ruined a beloved childhood memory, so thanks for that."

"Coulda been worse," he told her. "I coulda said, 'and her little dog, too.'"

Everyone at the table groaned and Renee threw a cookie at his head which he deftly caught midair and immediately popped into his grinning mouth.

"Okay, not to interrupt this confusing yet fascinating foray into 1940's and 50's musical icons because, hey, friend of Dorothy in the room, but are you sure you want to get rid of the bar?" Zander asked, turning to Felicity.

"You know, you don't have to get rid of the bar for me," Laurel told her.

"We don't need it," she assured her. "Bruce is the one who wanted to keep it but we're not going to be living here, you guys are, and you shouldn't have to deal with that kind of temptation in the house."

"You're in the program?" Zander asked looking towards Laurel.

She looked at him in surprise, "Yeah, you?"

"My husband," he told her. "He actually goes to meetings near here. Remind me to give you the address before I leave."

"Where does he go?" Renee asked curiously.

"10th Street in Midtown."

"I go there," she grinned.

"Yeah, Gannon always tells me they have the best coffee and doughnuts in town," Zander returned. "And he should know from coffee and doughnuts since he's a cop."

"Wait, Gannon? Gannon Malloy is your husband?" She asked in surprise. "I'll be damned! Small world; we actually worked together on the force for, like, ten whole minutes when he first transferred here. Every time we show up at the same meeting he always catches me up on all the station gossip. I knew he was married, but he always calls you 'Deedee,' for some reason."

Zander flushed, "Yeah, I hate when he does that."

"What does 'Deedee' stand for?" Tam asked.

He cleared his throat, "Um, 'double digits'. The first time we hooked up, we kind of, um, broke one another's, uh, personal best." All eyes were suddenly on him and he shifted slightly in his chair.

Even Wildcat was giving him a second look, "Damn, I guess big things do come in small packages." Laurel smacked his arm and he backed off, "I'm just sayin'…"

"Renee Montoya," he said narrowing his eyes slightly before realization dawned and he gave her a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry I didn't recognize your name right away. Gannon and I had just started dating when all that went down with you getting outed like that. He used to talk about how much it bothered him since the same thing happened to him in Bludhaven when he was just a rookie."

"What happened?" Laurel asked, looking from one to the other.

"Same thing that usually happens when a bunch of macho cops hear there's a queer in the bullpen," Renee said flatly.

"Wait; what?" She asked with a scowl.

The other woman sighed, "Some cops found out I was a lesbian and they started harassing me at work then a bunch of other shit happened, I wound up getting outed and my family disowned me for it. Well, my younger brother is cool but the rest of them were afraid they might catch dyke cooties or something," she bit out with more than a hint of bitterness. "After that I started drinking and my partner was set up by a dirty cop named Corrigan and brought up on murder charges. Allen eventually got cleared but I was gunning for the guy who set him up to begin with. I went after Corrigan time and time again but he always managed to weasel out of it and, in the meantime, things were getting tough at the station. Half the cops there hated me for being gay and the rest didn't want to come near me because I was trying to take one of our own down. Eventually I just couldn't take it anymore and quit; joined Vic in his PI firm instead."

"Gannon started off in the Bludhaven PD where he was actually attacked and beaten on three separate occasions in the locker room by his 'fellow officers' for being gay," Zander said in disgust. "The last time they went after him, his captain came to see him at home to let him know he was being let go due to 'budget cuts' but, the truth is, she wanted him out because he was becoming a 'problem'." He sighed, "He started drinking heavily, his longtime boyfriend left him…he and Ellis had been together forever so that was his wake up call. He moved here and got sober hoping to get him back but, by then, Ellis had moved on, so Gannon threw himself into the job." He smiled, "That's how we met actually. Some punks were hassling me when I was coming home from a friend's party down in the Village and he scared them off. We've been together ever since."

"Well, I'm glad you two found each other but, still; that's bullshit," Laurel said angrily. "He could have sued the crap out of the department for harassment and wrongful termination; both of you could have."

Renee snorted, "It would have been one cop's word against dozens and I guarantee you that any surveillance footage would have been conveniently 'lost' long before it went to trial."

"Plus, Gannon still wanted to be a cop and he knew if he sued then no other precinct would hire him," Zander told her. "Besides, he wound up getting a job with the GCPD where he is much happier and able to make a real difference for other gay cops. Commissioner Gordon cracked down hard on workplace harassment after gay marriage became legal in this state and charged him with starting an organization within the Force to support LGBTQ cops and their issues," he added with a smile.

"Well, congratulations, that's wonderful, but you still should have sued the crap out of them," Laurel grumbled. "My dad's a cop and, let me tell you, that shit would never fly in the SCPD."

"East Coast versus West Coast, hot stuff," Renee said dryly. "Besides, all of that was a few years ago and I'm over it. Corrigan's in jail, Allen was cleared, and all is right with my world. At least all will be right once I get fed. Speaking of which, when are we going to eat?"

"Right now," Felicity said getting up from the table to dispose of the cutting board and peelings as she set the fruit salad near the other bowl on the table.

"Good, because I'm starving," Laurel said as she set the laundry basket aside and got up to help Felicity set the table.

"So what else is new," Renee shot back as she retrieved the salad dressing and steak sauce from the fridge. "Hey Zander, what kind of salad dressing do you like? We've got Italian, ranch, balsamic, some fruity vinaigrettes, this old man thousand island crap Uncle Teddy picked up-"

"Watch it," Wildcat told her as he set the large platter of steaks on the table.

"Balsamic's fine," he told her. "Hey, I'll be right back; I just need to tell the guys to start taking down the bar. Do you guys know what you want to do with the space instead?"

Felicity turned to him from where she was getting out the cutlery and frowned, "Not really, no."

"Well, the bar was a really big focal point in the room," he warned her. "You're going to have to decide soon."

"If you want to keep it…" Laurel began.

"No," Felicity stopped her. "I was trying to get rid of that thing long before you planned on moving in."

"She's telling you the truth," Zander assured her. "The whole wine bar concept was a compromise but, luckily, I did come up with a few alternatives just in case."

"Like what?" Felicity asked as she and Laurel began distributing the plates and cutlery while Renee set out the salad things and went back to retrieve the drinks from the fridge.

"Well, the concept Tam and I came up with is a sort of pastiche of different styles based on some of the things she already had in storage and some furniture we found."

"Think steampunk casual," Tam told her. "Rich leather, shiny brass, lots of soft materials in rich colors, and a kind of Doctor Who's library vibe with antiques and contemporary furnishings sitting side by side."

"Doctor Who?" Felicity asked.

"Yeah," Tam nodded. "We found some of those end tables that look like stacked books and we found a bunch of these leather bound wood and brass antique steamer trunks we can use both as storage and for décor. We also bought some really gorgeous antique carpets and we're going to reface the fireplace since you hate modern. We wanted to go for an old English manor kind of look."

"It sounds a bit odd but, trust me, it'll be fabulous," Zander assured her.

"Oh, I was sold at 'Doctor Who'," Felicity assured him. "So what were your other ideas?"

"Well, your sister said you liked a homey feel, that you wanted a place you could unwind, so I thought about creating a gaming area with extra seating, maybe a few burnished wood tables, an antique chess setup…"

"We found these big antique chess piece carvings," Tam said, holding her hands apart to show the height of the sculptures. "They have that distressed old look. I was going to see if we could buy a couple just to set around as conversation pieces but we could use them to break up the room and define the space instead." She looked at Zander, "Still, are a couple of game tables going to be enough? The bar is pretty big."

"What about a billiard's table?" Wildcat suggested casually.

"A billiard's table would actually work perfectly," Zander said, looking thoughtful. "We did find that antique hand carved table yesterday. It's pretty expensive though."

"Let's do it," Tam said. "Besides, it's Bruce's money, not Felicity's."

"Tam, you are really going to have to let it go…" Felicity told her.

"I'm sorry, how much did that grill cost?" Tam shot back. "If you can get fiscal payback then so can I. Besides, you love playing board games and stuff."

"Fine, do it," Felicity told him wearily. "How long until the penthouse is done?"

"Well, since we don't have to rebuild the bar and you're happy with the kitchen as is, next week?" He offered.

"That fast?" She asked in surprise.

"We tripled the labor and they're working on the fireplace and painting now, so yeah," he told her. "A friend of mine runs an antique store and I have another friend who runs a high-end furniture place who directed us to this warehouse filled with customized furniture that for one reason or the other was never picked up. Normally they sell it at auction but he pulled some strings and offered to sell it to us directly. We've already moved in several pieces today but I can make a few phone calls and have him hold the pieces we talked about then move the rest of it in tomorrow. We have to let the paint dry fully before adding the faux treatments and glaze and, once that's dry, we can start moving in some of the artwork Mr. Wayne set aside for you. I'm thinking we should be done by next Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest."

"And we can stay in the penthouse while all that's happening?" She asked him.

He nodded, "We're using mostly water-based latex paint and wallpaper in the bedrooms and keeping the living areas well ventilated during the day, so yeah."

"Fantastic," Felicity said in relief.

"I'm just glad you're happy," he told her with a smile. "Be right back," he said, slipping out of the room.

"Do you think we should have invited the workmen to come eat lunch with us, too?" Felicity asked, turning to Wildcat.

"The coals were still plenty hot so the foreman's out there cooking everybody up a mess of burgers and dogs now, and Zander sent somebody down to the corner bodega for a bunch of chips and drinks; they'll be fine," he told her.

"Oh good, now I can at least eat without feeling bad," she said placing a steak on her plate and her sister's before passing the platter to him.

Tam turned to her sister after eyeing the dog who was now looking between them longingly as the scent of the steaks wafted through the room, "I want you to know that I am having nothing to do with that beast of yours. Nothing! As far as I'm concerned, he's persona non grata. I'm not walking him, I'm not feeding him, I'm not even petting him." She pouted, "And I'm getting my own teacup poodle. *And* if he eats my dog, Bruce or no Bruce, he's going straight to the glue factory."

"Okay, whatever; like I said, you're free to get your own dog and Ace won't bother it. Now excuse me while I feed *my* dog since *you* aren't having anything to do with him," she told her as she moved to make sure he had food in his dish.

The dog turned his large brown eyes toward Tam and tilted his head inquisitively at her.

"You're not that cute," Tam told him. "I'm sorry but you and me," she gestured between them, "never gonna happen, pal."

Ace sidled up to her and laid his head on her lap, his eyes looking up at her longingly as he whimpered.

Her lips twisted in an awkward grimace as she stared down at him, "Okay, so maybe you're a little cute." He butted his head against her hand and blinked at her. Tam's chin wobbled, "Damn it, I really wanted a poodle. Why couldn't you come with a shrink ray?"

He just yipped at her and lifted his head to lick her cheek.

"Gah! Okay, don't do that," she said pulling away and scratching his ears, causing the dog's mouth to open in a panting grin. "Fine, I like you; happy now?"

"Dog biscuit?" Felicity asked, holding out a large green dog treat.

"But I still hate you," Tam told her as she snatched the biscuit from her and handed it to Ace who gobbled it up before giving her another soulful look.

"And another one bites the dust," she told her sister as she put some salad on her plate.

"So when are you moving in?" Renee asked Wildcat in low tones as she set his soft drink in front of him.

"Whadaya mean?" He responded innocently, using the tongs to pick out a thick rib eye.

She gave him a knowing look as she sat beside him cracking open her own diet cola, "First the grill now a pool table? It's just a matter of time before you get your own Barcalounger and mini-fridge full of beer in front of the flatscreen."

"Our girl's got taste, what can I say?" He grinned. "Now all I have to do is pick up some cards and poker chips and this place might actually look like somethin'. Maybe we can even start making a regular poker night out of it. Been a while since I had a team to do that stuff with."

"I doubt any of these girls even know how to play poker. You'd probably-," Renee snorted as she got herself a steak then handed the plate to Laurel. She paused at the amused look on the other woman's face. "What?"

"Nothing," Laurel told her. "Yeah, you should definitely suggest the poker thing to Felicity. She always wanted to start a regular game back in Starling but no one would ever play with her."

"Why not?" Wildcat asked while Renee's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"They probably just didn't want to take all of her money even though she's, you know, loaded," Laurel said innocently. "If you guys do decide to start up a regular poker night, I suggest you start off slow with penny ante or matchsticks until she builds up her skill level that way you won't feel guilty about taking advantage of her after you completely wipe her out."

"She's a shark, isn't she?" Renee said flatly.

Laurel's voice dropped to a more confidential level as she looked over to where Felicity and her sister were talking, "Ask her about the time she took down an underground mob casino by counting cards."

"Felicity is a card shark?" Wildcat asked with a grin. "Damn. Screw Bruce, I'm marrying that girl myself then taking her to Vegas for our honeymoon."

"Get in line," Renee said, shaking her head.

"Can't," Laurel told them, then looked at each one in turn, "She's been banned from most casinos there. If you're lucky you might be able to sneak her into some of the ones down in Atlantic City, but she'll have to wear a disguise first."

"Holy…" Wildcat said in disbelief, his eyes immediately locking onto the tiny little blonde at the end of the table.

"Oh wow," the other woman breathed, "now that's hot."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Bruce stood, his back to the room, and his mind barely registering what the Wayne Publishing executives were saying about their options in regards to the lawsuit and Lois Lane's medical condition. He'd been distracted all day long, ever since he got off the phone with Felicity that morning. It wasn't like him; normally when he was dealing with a mission he was completely in the game, but not this time. All he could think of was Felicity and the fact that Deathstroke almost…

He shoved his clenched fists into his pockets and moved closer to the floor to ceiling bank of windows so that no one in the room would notice the expression of pure rage on his face. He touched her; that son of a bitch put his hands on Felicity and now she couldn't even close her eyes without thinking about it, about *him*.

He lied to her when he told her he probably wouldn't have killed him. If he had been there, if he had seen that bastard touching her and threatening to…

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as if fighting off a headache. God help him, he would have torn him apart with his bare hands. He could be a brutal son of a bitch, but he didn't kill. The Batman would beat a criminal to a bloody pulp, break bones, even maim if he had to, but he always drew the line at murder. For Felicity though, he would have made an exception. The only regret he had about that was that Slade was already dead.

All day long that's all he could think about. The image of that bastard creeping into her house, touching her while she slept; it made his stomach clench just thinking about what could have happened. Hell, what *did* happen. He still didn't have the full story about what happened that night. For all he knew she could be lying or in denial.

"Christ," he breathed, too low for anyone but him to hear. He swallowed the bile rising to his throat. Queen knew. All of them said the same thing, that Queen was screaming at the top of his lungs the entire time.

He tilted his head back slightly and breathed in and out slowly. God, he felt so fucking helpless right now and that wasn't something he handled well. Being helpless, being clueless, feeling lost; How could he fix this?

Simple answer; he couldn't.

Tim could only tell him what the others had seen but none of them were close enough to see all of it and he needed to know; if he was going to help Felicity get through this then he had to know everything that went down that night. For weeks now he knew she was hiding something, they all were. He thought that when they revealed that she had taken out Deathstroke that was all of it only to find out that he wasn't the only person she had to kill that night. She'd been forced to kill a man to save Detective Lance, possibly several men, then nearly killed herself taking out Deathstroke. As bad as that revelation had been, this was worse.

His mind began to replay his conversation with Dick as he'd done over and over again since he called.

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

He had just gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed when his cell rang.

He immediately picked up, not bothering with the formalities, "What's going on?"

"It's Baby…"

"Is she hurt?" He asked, muscles tensing at the other man's tone, "I thought you said she was fine?"

"She's not hurt," he said quickly. "Not really."

"What do you mean 'not really'?" He practically growled as he began to dress hurriedly. "Do I need to get down there; is she okay?"

"As far as I can tell, but she didn't get injured last night during the carjacking; she got hurt when she and I got into a tussle this morning in her bedroom."

Bruce froze, jaw clenched, "Explain-now!"

He heard the draw of the other man's breath before he spoke, "Baby had a night terror last night. I heard her crying and I went in to check on her and," he paused. "It was bad, Bruce."

He stopped and sat down on the bed, his heartbeat calming slightly but his muscles still tensed for a fight, "What do you mean?"

"I walked in the room and she was tossing and turning, crying out in her sleep; her clothes were soaked through with sweat and she was sobbing the words 'no' and 'Slade' over and over as she fought the covers. I went over to wake her up-which, admittedly, was a bonehead move on my part, but I'm not really used to thinking of Baby as being dangerous."

"She's not," he said with a frown then corrected himself, "She has some hand to hand training under her belt but—"

"A little- Bruce, I'm not ashamed to say she nearly kicked my ass last night," he said flatly. "I touched her shoulder and the next thing I know she's punching and kicking me, tossing me off her, and fighting like a hellcat. The second I backed off she rolled under the bed and was reaching for a weapon. Thankfully she came up empty, otherwise there's no way I could have gotten to her before she got the first shot off."

"She tried to shoot you?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Like I said, there was nothing there but I'm pretty sure she thought she was reaching for a gun."

His brow furrowed in confusion, "That doesn't make sense."

"All I have to go on is the way she was acting, and she was reaching for something. When she came up empty she scrambled for the nightstand and I had no choice but to stop her because if I let her get to what was in that nightstand someone was going to get hurt and I didn't want it to be me and I certainly didn't want to have to hurt her any more than I absolutely had to. She wound up bruising a couple of my ribs and putting one hell of a bite on my arm in the process but I managed to get her under control before it came to that."

"What about Felicity? Is she okay? You said she took on injuries; how bad is it?"

He'd trained Dick to defend himself against friend or foe with equal ferocity and to never hold back when his life was on the line. Men, women; didn't matter, a threat was a threat. You put them down before they can put you six feet under; that's what he drilled into all of his protégé's heads.

Even if the threat was Felicity.

"Did—is anything broken?"

"I…" he heard him exhale roughly, "I don't know; I don't think so. I was as gentle as I could be under the circumstances but she was reaching for a couple of loaded nine millimeters in the nightstand and I had no other choice but to restrain her," he said apologetically. "I wound up putting some bruises on her wrists and slammed her finger in the drawer when I was trying to prevent her from grabbing the gun. It's not broken, not that I could tell anyway. It might be fractured but she was moving it fine, same with her wrists, and she didn't ask for me to take her to the hospital. The nail split all the way down to the quick and bled pretty badly but, other than that, she seemed okay." He paused, "Has she ever done anything like this before?"

"No," he said quietly, scrubbing his hand through his hair in aggravation. "Did she say anything afterwards?"

"Not much, that's kind of what has me worried," he said quietly. "As soon as she realized it was me and snapped out of it, the tears stopped and she tried pretending nothing was wrong. What the hell did Deathstroke do to her anyway?"

"All I know is what Tim told me," he said before rubbing his hand across his mouth. "Look, I need to call Baby. In the meantime, I want you to get all the guns out of the penthouse and take them to the manor. Make sure Alfred puts them in the safe."

"Got it; anything else?"

"No, just keep an eye on her and call me if anything else happens."

"Sure," there was another pause, "Bruce, I know what you told me, that she took out Slade, but something else is going on here. The way she looked…" He blew out a harsh breath, "Frankly, seeing her like that scared the hell out of me and I'm really worried about her. I think you should wrap up whatever it is you've got going on and get home as soon as you can."

He stilled, "Felicity would never hurt herself if that's what you're implying."

"I'm not saying she would, but Bruce; last night she shot a perp twice, ran two others over multiple times, then nearly shot me while in the midst of a night terror, and we already know she's killed multiple people," he said flatly. "She's your fiancée and this is your business, not mine, but if she were my fiancée, after seeing what I saw last night..."

"Understood." He propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, rubbing the heel of his hand against his furrowed brow, "Until I get back someone needs to stay with Felicity at all times."

"Renee and I both spent the night as did Queen and Luke and she's got a houseguest as well; Laurel Lance."

"I don't trust Laurel; she's got a history of mental illness as well as drug and alcohol issues, plus she's been aggressive towards Baby in the past. Make sure Renee knows to stick close even if she basically has to move in. Wildcat already has her covered on the inside but I want you, Luke, and Queen on surveillance and support while all this is going on. Have Luke suit up tonight and patrol while Alfred handles coms."

"Do you want me going in as Nightwing or Batman?"

"I'm suiting up here tonight so plan to go in as Nightwing for now. Stay on Queen," he told him. "If something happens on his patrols and Luke needs backup then tell Queen to go in but I don't want you taking your eyes off of Felicity, understood?"

"Understood."

"I'll head back as soon as I've wrapped up everything here. And Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"…Thank you."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

How did he not know about her night terrors before now? He knew she hadn't been sleeping well, but how had he missed all the signs that she was scared to the point of keeping weapons at the ready in case someone came after her? Finding out about that had been almost as big a blow as finding out that Queen kissed her. Actually, it was worse since Queen all but told him what he was going to try and pull. No, the biggest blow came when Felicity told him that he had been the one keeping her monsters at bay, that him holding her in their bed was what stopped the nightmares. He realized then that his taking off to Metropolis without warning was part of the reason why she…

Fuck, that was enough to bring him to his knees with guilt right then and there.

Anything could have happened. Dick could have been killed, Felicity could have been seriously injured or killed, she could have another night terror and hurt herself or others…

He told her he trusted her and he did. He knew she wasn't made of glass, he knew she could defend herself in a fight, but that didn't really apply here. It was one thing to take on some muggers or gang bangers, but Dick was a trained operator.

The day Dick issued his ultimatum, 'Give up the cowl or I'm leaving to head my own team,' he beat him to a bloody pulp with his bare hands. He didn't do it out of anger, he did it after issuing a counter offer of his own:

Knock me down and keep me down and the cowl is yours.

When he was done, only one of them was still standing and it wasn't Dick. Not that he wasn't hurting by the end of it. They were both a mass of cuts and bruises, both beaten to the point where they were almost unrecognizable, but it had been necessary. He was trying to show him that to be the Bat, to survive no matter what, he had to stop using his heart and start using his head. Being the Bat meant surviving pain, surviving torture, fighting even when all you wanted to do was quit. It meant fighting for justice, not for humanity. It meant giving up all the comforts other's enjoyed; love, family, home, because even if it meant sacrificing the people closest to you, the mission always came first.

He told him that he had never met a man worthy of the cowl; not one, not even him. Everyone who ever tried to take it from him failed because they gave up. When the fight became impossible to win, when the pain became too much to bear; they quit. The Batman never quit; not even when there was no hope for salvation. He fought, and he fought, and when that wasn't enough, he fought even harder.

He hit him over and over again, the two of them exchanging blow after punishing blow, while he told him that if he wanted to be the Bat then he had to prove he could take it from him first. Every time Dick put him down, he got back up. Every time he put Dick down, he got up as well. They fought for hours, they fought until their skin hung in bloody remnants over their knuckles. They fought until Dick called it and finally gave up.

True to his word, Dick got up, spat a tooth out onto the floor, and limped out of his life and the team, but not before telling him that if being the Bat meant becoming something less than human, if it meant becoming the man Bruce had become, then he could keep it.

Yesterday was the first time they'd spoken in over a year without Alfred or Tim acting as an intermediary. Truth be told, he was surprised that Dick even bothered picking up the phone when he called but then all he had to say was that he needed him, that Baby needed both of them, and he was back and acting as though no time had passed at all. That was the magic of Felicity; just the mere mention of her name could bridge the gap between them and bring their family back together again.

That said, it didn't escape his notice that when he offered Dick the cowl he neither accepted nor refused. It was pretty obvious that he didn't quite believe that he was retiring but he meant what he said; he could no longer be the Bat and be with Felicity. He gave her up once for the cowl, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice; he couldn't, not anymore.

The choice had been made and, as far as he was concerned, Felicity was now the only mission that mattered.

It was all he could do not to hop a plane after Dick called him that morning to tell him what happened. All day he'd been distracted, tense, and moody as hell. He knew it showed, too; even Lucius was beginning to lose patience with him.

His mind flashed back on that night they shared right before he made his intentions clear to her. She took off her coat and stood in the center of the room in a barely there tuxedo jacket that seemed to hug every curve, looking like... God, she looked like every damn fantasy he never even knew he had until that very moment.

He couldn't help himself; he just reached out for her and began to show her in actions what he wasn't quite ready to put into words because, once he said them, he could never take them back. He began making love to her; sweet, slow love, the kind of love one could build a life upon. It was the coward's way out, for sure, but he didn't want to have to make the sacrifices keeping her would force him to make. He convinced himself that as long as he made no promises, if she stayed, he could have his cake and eat it too.

Despite all his plans though, as soon as he entered her an overwhelming urge came over him. It was like an intense compulsion, an absolute need to say the words and hear her response.

Tell me you belong to me.

At that moment it was no longer just him in bed with the woman he loved; it became a marriage of souls. This odd feeling flowed through him, it was almost as though his entire being vibrated with those words and something deep inside of him knew if she answered him, if she told him what he needed to hear, that their bond would be set.

At that moment, he would have given anything, done anything, just to hear her tell him that she was his then ask him the same in return. And he would have answered her with a 'yes'; he would have told her in no uncertain terms that he lived inside of her and she inside of him. It sounded like poorly written romantic tripe, but there was some sort of strange power in those words that he recognized on a purely instinctual level. As soon as he said them, he felt a thrum of electricity run through his veins and it was as though their souls locked onto one another.

It wasn't just want, it wasn't just some kind of impulse or power play; he needed to hear her say it more than he'd ever needed anything in his entire life…and then she started shaking and he knew something was wrong. At the time, she wouldn't talk about it but now he knew. His words; words that, at the time, seemed as holy and sacred as any prayer or heartfelt vow before family and friends, had been permanently corrupted by Slade Wilson.

If there was a hell then he hoped that son of a bitch was burning in it.

He watched her sleep that night. It wasn't a fitful sleep, she barely even moved, still something told him that she needed him there to keep the monsters at bay. He lay in bed with her head on his chest and his hand stroking down her bare back and, even though knew that his days of being the Batman would be done the second he whispered those three words out loud, he said them anyway. He needed to erase the ghosts in the room and they were his talisman; his most secret source of strength. He said the words and felt all his doubts drift away from that moment on.

The walls had come down the minute he saw her tears, saw the pain his selfishness had inflicted, and he knew that there was no turning back. He told Dick long ago that the Bat couldn't serve two masters, you had to choose; it was the mission or the girl, you couldn't have both. That night he closed his eyes, his arms around the woman he belonged to, and let go of the Bat without so much as a second thought.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at the Metropolis skyline, wishing to hell he was back home with her. Instead, here he was, staring out of a window, his mind engrossed on only one thing and it sure as hell wasn't the mission or the cowl. If one of his team was acting this out of sorts then he'd bench them on the spot. Dick was right, he needed to get this done and go home because he was no good to anyone, least of all her, if he couldn't stay focused on the job at hand.

They visited Lois in the hospital that morning but, as expected, she wasn't much help. She was still druggy and confused, barely able to even recognize her boyfriend, a foreign correspondent with The Daily Planet by the name of Jonathan Carroll.

Not that Carroll seemed particularly concerned about her, he thought disgustedly. The minute he stepped into the room with Lucius and Josiah Power, the man began talking over a very confused Lois and practically tripped over himself to explain exactly why he'd be perfect for the anchor chair should the network deal go through. After Carroll interrupted Lois for the third time with a story about some nonsense he and his 'good buddies' Wolf Blitzer and Snapper Carr got into while on assignment, he seriously thought about punching him just to shut him up.

Finally, after Lucius realized he was at his breaking point, he dove onto the sacrificial sword and led the babbling idiot away so he could ask his questions without being constantly interrupted. Even so, he really didn't learn anything. All she had was a hazy recollection about Luthor and Mallory courting Miller over some kind of proposed government contract but she couldn't remember what for. The only useful thing she could remember was that her 'source' (who she still couldn't remember, not even if it was a man or woman) first contacted her because of some kind of experimental aircraft engine LuthorCorp was supposedly developing and that Miller was putting pressure on them to do something but, again, she couldn't remember that part either. All she knew was that when she began investigating the allegations, she stumbled on the rest of it.

He wanted to try pressing her further but then Carroll came back in the room and, unable to deal with him and getting nothing more of value out of Lane, he finally gave up and abruptly cut off the other man's steady stream of self-aggrandizement to tell Lucius they needed to get the show on the road if they were going to make it to Metropolis by that afternoon.

Now he was worried that he might have let his temper get the best of him. He should have just taken charge of the room and told Carroll to get the hell out. He grimaced, he felt off-kilter and it was pissing him off. Lois was a bust and this whole damn trip felt like a waste of time. If Mallory couldn't give him any answers then-

"What's going on with you, Bruce?" Lucius asked in low tones as he came to stand beside him at the window.

Bruce glanced over at him in mild surprise then looked behind him at the empty conference room. Son of a bitch, he thought, "When did the meeting break up?"

"Five minutes ago, not that you noticed. I told everyone to take a break and said we'd get back to it after lunch," the older man said quietly. "Now what's really going on; the last time you were this distracted the Joker was back in town." Bruce started slightly and Lucius chuckled, "Relax, I activated a device to block any listening equipment the minute we entered the conference room." He removed what appeared to be a normal stylus from his pocket and showed him the blinking green light.

"That's the new tech Snyder was working on," he observed quietly.

He nodded, "It blocks all incoming and outgoing cell transmissions and detects any and all listening devices within a set radius. Had there been any active devices present the light would turn red. However, even if it misses any bugs in the room, it sends off a high pitched signal well outside the range of human hearing that will register as massive amounts of feedback until I shut it down." He gave him a pointed look, "This is Metropolis; I don't even trust our own offices this close to Luthor and the last thing we need is a leak right now." He looked at him, "It's not Joker, is it? They never did find his body."

"No," he said quietly, "I don't know what it is but I don't like being this far away from Gotham while all this is happening. I asked Baby to fly down here this morning but she wouldn't budge." He glared at the Metropolis skyline again as if willing it to change.

The other man's expression grew apprehensive, "Is she in danger?" Bruce's lack of an answer caused the older man to tense up, "Is it because…?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"What the hell is going on, Bruce?" Lucius asked angrily in hushed tones.

He took a deep breath, "I found out a few weeks ago that Baby had a hit put on her a year and a half ago. I don't know any more than that but I do know, even though it was canceled, she's been targeted recently by a potentially dangerous organization."

"Why didn't you tell me about this when you first found out about it?" He demanded.

"I was hoping that when I brought her home the danger would pass. I was pretty sure the real person they were after was Queen, not Baby; I still am actually only now I suspect they might be going through her to get to me as well."

Lucius's jaw tightened, "Who is after her, and why would they be targeting Baby to get to Queen?"

"Let's just say that it turns out Queen and I have a few things in common."

Lucius looked at him blankly for a second before realization dawned, "That's the reason you agreed to go through with the Queen Consolidated proposal?" He shook his head, "You should have told me Bruce."

"Probably," he admitted.

"No 'probably' about it," he said through gritted teeth. "If Baby was in danger then I had the right to know."

"She's safe," he assured him. "Luke and the rest of my team are watching her now."

"Then why do you look so worried?"

"Because it's Baby," he told him.

The other man huffed in frustration but nodded in understanding, "If you had told me what was happening I wouldn't have insisted you join me on this trip. I would have told you to stay with my daughter instead."

"I would've had to come anyway," he said reluctantly.

"Why?"

"Because the people targeting Baby are also connected to the Miller thing somehow," he said grimly.

His expression darkened, "How?"

"I don't know yet but whatever it is, Isabel Rochev is the common denominator."

Lucius furrowed his brow in surprise, "Why would she be going after Baby and what does this have to do with the Special Projects Division?" Bruce shook his head silently and the other man sighed, "Fine, you can tell me on the plane. Let's just wrap this up and we'll head back as soon as the meeting breaks."

"There are a few things I need to do while we're in town first," he said quietly. "If you want to head back early though-"

"I'm staying," Lucius told him, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"Lucius…" he began.

"If you're here to investigate the people targeting Baby then I'm staying," he said firmly. "I can act as your back up." Bruce looked at him pointedly and he grimaced, "Look, I might not be able to help you in the field, but I can at least offer some kind of tech support while I'm here."

Bruce nodded curtly, "Fine. Barbara's in Starling anyway and I could use someone on coms since Baby won't be able to handle them tonight and Luke is going to be busy."

"Who has Watchtower?"

"Alfred."

"Good," he said, his expression relaxing slightly even though he still looked and sounded more than a little perturbed. "Of course, as soon as we get out of here you're briefing me on everything, understood?"

"Goes without saying," he said in a less than enthusiastic tone.

Lucius eyed him warningly, "I realize that you're used to calling all the shots, Bruce; especially when it comes to 'special projects', but if you're as determined to marry my daughter as you say you are, then you'd better get used to the fact that I'm going to be on you like white on rice from here on out," he said in a mildly threatening tone of voice. "I may have given you a hell of a lot of space in the past but this is the dawning of a new age, my friend; understood?"

"Understood," Bruce nodded. He watched as Lucius walked over to the conference table and shut his tablet and laptop down before slipping them into his briefcase. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and eyed the other man warily for a moment, "There's something else…"

"What is it?" He asked, looking up.

"I talked to Baby and told her what we discussed last night," he gave Lucius a pained look.

The other man grimaced and sighed, "Let me guess, I'm going to catch hell when I get home?"

"If it helps, I caught the lion's share of it last night then first thing this morning," he told him.

Lucius chuckled briefly, "Yeah, well, get used to that; her mother could be just as stubborn when she wanted to be."

"Look, she understands the media strategy thing and we both agree with you that it would be better to wait the six months," he said reluctantly. "However, Baby doesn't want anyone issuing any press releases until all of this other stuff is settled first so we'd appreciate it if you didn't go to Danny just yet."

The other man offered him a look of grudging respect, "Okay."

"Thank you," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets, his expression still troubled.

"Did something happen between the two of you?"

Bruce glanced up at him, "It's that obvious, huh?"

"You just have that look every man gets when the woman he loves gives him hell for the first time after he proposes," he said knowingly. "Plus, Baby is her mother's daughter and the first time Evie and I had a fight after I asked her to marry me I was absolutely convinced she was going to leave me. I thought for sure that I had made the biggest mistake of my life and wound up calling every florist in town to try to make up for it."

"Did that help?" He asked hopefully.

"Nope," he told him. "It just made her even madder. She told me that all she wanted was me, not a bunch of expensive flowers, and that the next time I wanted to apologize I should just try talking to her instead of spending six thousand dollars on roses."

"So you're saying I should go with plan B then?" He said wryly.

"Eh, a few flowers couldn't hurt. By the way, she likes sunflowers and irises, and if you send roses make sure to send a mix of bright colors. Also, make sure they smell like something otherwise she'll get mad because, according to her, what's the point of spending money on real flowers if they smell like they're made out of plastic," he said with a grin then gave him an assessing look. "You know Bruce, I wasn't really thrilled about the idea of you marrying Baby before, but I can see how much you really do love her." He took a deep breath, "The man I used to know wouldn't have let anyone or anything get between him and whatever it was he was pursuing. He certainly wouldn't be staring out the window in absolute misery because he messed up things with his girl when he should be focused on the business at hand."

He looked at him in mild surprise, "So does that mean I have your blessing?"

"It means I'll think about it," he told him, then added, "As long as you get your head out of that window and back on my daughter's safety where it belongs."

Bruce thought back on their conversation and frowned, "Probably doesn't matter anyway, I'm pretty sure she's not going to agree to marry me anytime soon."

Lucius snorted, "Son, my daughter has been in love with you since she was four years old. Just swallow your pride, apologize, and get done what you need to get done here so you can make up for it in person."

Bruce glanced at the other man hopefully, "So we're good?"

He nodded, "I still want to know everything that's been going on and I'm not happy that you kept all of this under wraps, but as long as you two are taking this seriously I'm good with it. I can't say I'm overly enthused with the idea of the two of you living together though." As Bruce began to object he waved him off, "However, given what I now know, I understand why you'd want her to move into the manor. Just remember that other thing we talked about," he said pointedly.

"I promise we have no intentions of starting a family until after the wedding," he assured him. "I think Baby wants to go the adoption route first anyway."

"Glad to see that you were paying attention," Lucius told him. "To that, at least. What about what we were discussing at the meeting?"

"Honestly, it was all in one ear and out the other," he admitted.

"I thought so," he said with a slightly disapproving look. "Basically even the executives at Wayne Publishing are pushing for us to sell to Edge. He might be a smug bastard but he's got deep pockets and his focus is actually on media whereas Wayne Enterprises is known more for our tech. The only reason we bought the Planet was for the prestige and having it under our banner doesn't really serve that purpose anymore; especially with this Miller thing hanging over our heads. It's barely breaking even and, win or lose, this thing is going to cost us big time. We already have advertisers pulling their ads because they want to distance themselves from the scandal."

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck tiredly, "Fine; tell them I'll take it under consideration and put together some numbers for me to look at."

"You're sure?" He asked.

"You said it yourself; it's business, not personal," Bruce nodded. "I don't like the idea of selling to Edge but if the numbers are right, I'll let it go." Lucius looked at him and chuckled. "What?"

The older man smirked, "It's just that Baby has been a bigger influence on you than I ever could have imagined."

His brow furrowed in confusion, "What does me letting the paper go have to do with her?"

"Yesterday you were adamant about the fact that you wouldn't give up the paper no matter what, but today you're actually willing to compromise and listen to the advice of your executives. The Bruce Wayne I know is a stubborn pain in the ass who rarely if ever compromises on anything so either you're Bruce Wayne's doppelgänger or Baby has left her mark on you after all."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Clark sat in the bullpen pretending to work while he eavesdropped on the conversation going on two floors above. The high pitched whine had been annoying at first but he managed to filter it out just in time to hear the meeting break up then listen as Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox began speaking in private.

It was unethical on so many levels to use his abilities for personal gain but, in this case, he made an exception. Not only was the paper in jeopardy but someone was responsible for the attack on Lois and he needed to find out who. The obvious choice would be Miller himself, but this was outside of his usual MO. The former senator would be more likely to employ intimidation or blackmail rather than stage a very public attack that only served to place more attention upon him and his crimes. No, if he were a betting man he'd put his money on Luthor being behind it.

Lex Luthor brought the term 'ruthless' to a whole other level. On the surface he was just another successful businessman, his wealth and resources comparable to that of Bruce Wayne with Wayne being ahead of him but not by much. As of last year, Wayne took fourth place and Luthor fifth in Forbes rankings of the fifteen wealthiest people in the world. He was an investigative journalist, not a finance reporter, but after doing a little recon with Clinton Stark from the business section, he was fairly certain that when the new rankings came out, Wayne was set to jump two slots ahead with Luthor still right on his heels. These men had a bone deep rivalry going on and, according to Clinton, Luthor loathed Wayne with a passion. Time and time again the two of them had gone head to head only to see Wayne Enterprises capture the brass ring. Even Clinton readily pointed out that Lois's breakdown not only placed both her and the paper's credibility in jeopardy, it would also affect Wayne Enterprise's bottom line.

Did he think that besting Bruce Wayne was enough motive to stage such a public attack? Knowing Luthor, probably, but the fact was, until Lois collapsed and was unable to submit her evidence to the committee, he was scheduled to testify and possibly face criminal sanctions. The fact that he was also using this as an opportunity to get his hands on the paper and away from Wayne was telling as well. The only problem with that theory was that he wasn't the one offering the highest bid, Morgan Edge was.

Morgan Edge was the antithesis of Lucius Fox in every way that counted. Sure, like Fox, he was a black man born into poverty who became a self-made billionaire. He was a brilliant strategist and someone with the reputation of being able to spin straw into gold but, unlike Lucius Fox who was considered to be a man of impeccable honor, Edge was almost as ruthless as Luthor both in his personal and his professional life. He wielded his media empire like a club, using it to damage the reputations of anyone he felt was standing in his way. He didn't care about the truth, just the bottom line, and if he bought The Daily Planet from Wayne, he'd turn it into another rag like the Globe with slick photo spreads and celebrity gossip smeared all over the pages with bylines of so-called journalists who would think nothing of damaging The Planet's reputation with sensationalist headlines and yellow journalism.

He tried listening in again and winced, resisting the urge to rub at his ear. Whatever the hell that was making that noise was starting to give him a migraine.

/-This is Metropolis; I don't even trust our own offices this close to Luthor and the last thing we need is a leak right now./ That was Lucius Fox's voice, /It's not-/ The whining escalated for a second and he closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose until he could filter out the sound again.

/I don't know what it is but I don't like being this far away from Gotham while all this is happening. I asked Baby to fly down here this morning but she wouldn't budge./

That was Wayne.

/Is she in danger?/ Fox again. /Is it because…?/

/I don't know./

Clark opened a search on any and all women closely associated with Wayne who went by the nickname 'Baby', but came up empty. There were plenty of women associated with Wayne throughout the years, but the last 'public' relationship he had was with a reporter named Charlotte Rivers and he very much doubted she was who he was referring to.

He actually met Charlotte once…sort of. She and Lois squared off at press conference and he got to see the two of them sharpen their verbal claws on one another. Even from what little he knew about the woman, he seriously doubted she would appreciate being referred to as 'Baby' by anyone.

/What the hell is going on, Bruce?/

"Good question," Clark muttered.

/I found out a few weeks ago that Baby had a hit put on her a year and a half ago. I don't know any more than that but I do know, even though it was canceled, she's been targeted recently by a potentially dangerous organization./

His jaw tightened and he stopped typing, all of his attention now focused on the conversation going on above him.

/Why didn't you tell me about this when you first found out about it?/

/I was hoping that when I brought her home the danger would pass. I was pretty sure the real person they were after was Queen, not Baby; I still am actually only now I suspect they might be going through her to get to me as well./

Queen? As in Oliver Queen? He began typing again and running another search on Queen and the women in his life but, again, no 'Baby'.

One thing was for sure, if whoever attacked Lois was going after both Queen and Wayne by targeting this woman then it definitely had something to do with Miller. Not only that, but intimidation tactics like going after family members was both Miller and Luthor's MO to a T.

/Who is after her, and why would they be targeting Baby to get to Queen?/

Another good question, "Should've been a journalist," he said under breath as he continued to run checks on Queen.

/Let's just say that it turns out Queen and I have a few things in common./

"I wish I could find out what."

On the surface, Wayne and Queen were complete opposites. Queen dropped out or was kicked out of four different colleges even though he was regarded as being highly intelligent, while Wayne had multiple degrees and was a certified genius. He looked at his bio carefully; Oxford and Ivy League educated with advanced degrees in law, business, biology, chemistry, criminology, physics, and computer science in addition to lesser degrees in criminal justice, engineering, and forensic sciences.

"That's a…bit unusual." The law and business degrees were a no brainer, one could even argue the criminology, criminal justice, and forensics degrees were understandable if he intended to go into criminal law, but as a whole it didn't really make sense unless he was just a professional student, which he most definitely was not. By the time he was twenty-three he graduated from Yale Law to begin a five year tour around the world. The fact that he managed to accomplish all of that at such a young age was astounding.

Queen, on the other hand, was the male version of Paris Hilton by twenty-one (only with less of a work ethic) then spent the next five years trapped on a desert island.

Another prime example of how they were complete opposites was the evolution of both men's reputations and public personas:

While Queen was a partier who became a complete straight arrow five years later, Wayne was a studious monk who returned to Gotham a ladies man. He spent the rest of his twenties going through starlets and supermodels like they were going out of style while Queen managed to stay out of the gossip rags as much as he possibly could despite his mother's trial and subsequent campaign for mayor that ended with her death.

Wayne was no longer a player however and that was what was making it so difficult to figure out who he was talking about. There was virtually nothing written about his personal life, not recently anyway. His playboy days abruptly ended approximately five years ago when he adopted a boy who was rumored to be his biological son, Damian Wayne.

Clark looked at the photo on his screen and frowned. According to this the boy died from a long term illness that had been previously undisclosed to the public. Officially his doctor, Leslie Thompkins, ruled that he died from an intracranial hemorrhage which was worsened by Hemophilia Type-A. They administered a clotting factor after he fell and bumped his head while playing with the family dog which then caused an adverse reaction and he subsequently died right there in the clinic.

Sad, he thought as he glanced back up at the picture of the young boy. The child wasn't smiling at all, his eyes curiously blank even though he was standing in front of a lavishly decorated tree and surrounded by brightly packaged presents. When he was a kid he would have been all over that but, then again, when he was ten he'd never been forced to wear a three piece suit while posing for a photo shoot when all he really wanted to do was go play.

/That's the reason you agreed to go through with the Queen Consolidated proposal? You should have told me Bruce./

/Probably./

Where in the heck did this kid even come from? He thought to himself.

He tried finding any information on the boy's mother but came up empty. Whoever she was she didn't even bother showing up to his funeral which was attended only by Wayne's other adopted sons, Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake-Wayne, as well as Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's guardian, and the Fox family. Maybe his mother was dead? Had to be, he thought, what kind of mother wouldn't attend her own child's funeral unless she physically wasn't able to? But if she were dead then it stood to reason that she couldn't be 'Baby' either.

Maybe she wasn't dead? Maybe she was the link between Queen and Wayne but all the women Queen was publicly associated with had never so much as crossed paths with Wayne either.

The only thing he could find linking Wayne and Queen was Miller. From what he could see, the men had never so much as met before then. Queen's mother, Moira, attended a few Wayne Foundation Galas some years before her death but none in the last decade or so.

/No 'probably' about it. If Baby was in danger then I had the right to know./

He began another search, this time on Lucius Fox and anyone connected to him called 'Baby' but, again, came up empty.

/She's safe. Luke and the rest of my team are watching her now./

His team? Meaning his security detail? It wasn't unusual for men of Wayne's wealth to have a bodyguard or two but he'd always eschewed them in the past despite owning one of the most elite private security firms in the world. If he had an entire team guarding this one woman then he must think this threat is both very real and serious.

/Then why do you look so worried?/

/Because it's Baby./

He scowled and wished they'd just stop referring to this mystery woman as 'Baby' so he'd have something better to go on. Maybe 'Baby' was his daughter? He knew Wayne had taken in a few foster children over the years but the only girl he officially took temporary guardianship of was a foster daughter named 'Stephanie Brown' who died a few years ago after she aged out of the system and left his care. According to her death certificate, again signed by their family physician, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, she died from surgical complications when her appendix ruptured.

He felt another wave of sympathy for the man. First his foster daughter dies, then his son dies just a year or so later? No wonder he left the public eye for almost five months following Damian's funeral. Officially, the Wayne family's publicist issued a statement saying he was doing charity work for his Foundation but he could definitely see where the rumors that were going around about how he'd had a nervous breakdown came from. There was even a Globe article claiming that he'd gone to a psychiatric clinic in Switzerland, but Wayne returned just in time to file a libel lawsuit which he won only to donate the full amount of the settlement to two children's charities not directly associated with the Wayne Foundation; the CJ Wilson Children's Charity that funds programs to provide education and emotional support to children suffering from chronic illnesses, and Cure4theKids which provides free or low cost care at The Children's Specialty Center and the Hemophilia Treatment Center, and funds medical research into the disease.

Clark scowled, even if he had a nervous breakdown over his children's deaths, the fact that Edge would even run with something like that was just one more reason why he really didn't want to work for the man.

/If you had told me what was happening I wouldn't have insisted you join me on this trip. I would have told you to stay with my daughter instead./

Wait—

He went back to the tab he had on Fox and noticed that he had a daughter named 'Tamara'. He began a search on Tamara Fox and noted that, although she was an executive with Wayne Entertainment, she and Wayne were rarely photographed together. However, there were several photos linking her romantically with Wayne's son, Timothy Drake-Wayne.

Maybe Tamara was 'Baby'? It was possible, but somehow he doubted it. The last press photo of her and his son was fairly recent and they appeared to still be very much involved. Maybe he was misreading his tone of voice. Maybe it wasn't a romantic relationship but more of an avuncular one?

/I would've had to come anyway./

/Why?/

/Because the people targeting Baby are also connected to the Miller thing somehow./

Confirmation, Clark thought nodding to himself. Only why would someone working with the Entertainment Division be connected to the LexCorp scandal or Queen Consolidated?

He ran a search on Oliver Queen to find a possible link between him and Tamara Fox.

/How?/

/I don't know yet but whatever it is, Isabel Rochev is the common denominator./

Clark paused.

Isabel Rochev. Her name came up in Lois's investigation of Miller and LexCorp. Lois had Jimmy hack into her work emails (despite his objections) but came up empty. Could she have missed something? He searched for a link between 'Isabel Rochev' and 'Tamara Fox'.

Nothing, "Damn it," he muttered to himself then winced as his control slipped slightly and his ears began to buzz unpleasantly once more. This was starting to get really tiresome and that damn whining noise at the edge of his hearing wasn't helping matters any. What the hell was doing that anyway?

He directed his gaze towards the ceiling and scanned the room two floors above him. Luckily the office directly below the conference room was empty and he was able to locate the device in the older of the two men's possession fairly quickly. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it without burning a hole through two floors and Lucius Fox's breast pocket.

He wiped his hand over his mouth in frustration and did his best to ignore the sound once again.

/Why would she be going after Baby and what does this have to do with the Special Projects Division?/

Special Projects Division? Was that where they were building the satellite's components? He searched Wayne Enterprises and came up with the name 'Dr. Greg Snyder' with R&D at WayneTech, sometimes referred to by Dr. Snyder in interviews as the 'Experimental Division', but no 'Special Projects Division'.

"It's almost like they're deliberately talking in code," he grumbled to himself.

/Fine, you can tell me on the plane. Let's just wrap this up and we'll head back as soon as the meeting breaks./

/There are a few things I need to do while we're in town first. If you want to head back early though-/

/I'm staying./

/Lucius…/

/If you're here to investigate the people targeting Baby then I'm staying. I can act as your back up./

Back up? Was Wayne planning on pursuing this himself? He pressed his fingers against his forehead and sighed. Great, now not only did he have to go after Mallory later but he had to keep an eye on Wayne so he didn't go and get himself killed.

/Look, I might not be able to help you in the field, but I can at least offer some kind of tech support while I'm here./

/Fine. Barbara's in Starling anyway and I could use someone on coms since Baby won't be able to handle them tonight and Luke is going to be busy./

'Help him in the field'? 'Coms'?

"God save me from weekend warriors who think playing paintball at the company retreat means they're trained Marines now," he sighed.

This was not going to end well.

/Who has Watchtower?/

/Alfred./

Watchtower? What the hell was Watchtower? Was that the code name for the weapon's tracking system they were developing? Was Wayne planning on using it to track down whoever was threatening Tamara Fox?

Now he really was worried. As far as anyone officially knew, the satellite being developed by Wayne Corp was supposed to be some sort of revolutionary GPS system for military use in tanks and drones but what if it was weaponized as well? Could he be planning an assassination of some sort?

No, he thought quickly dismissing the thought. The satellite was still in development but he and Queen had other satellites that were presumably capable of using that type of software. Queen Consolidated was built on its revolutionary cellular technology and sat phones while WayneTech specialized in advanced weapons systems. What if the two men hired someone to take out Luthor or were planning to do it themselves in order to minimize the risk? Was that why Wayne came along at the last minute and why he and Queen unexpectedly came together on that deal?

It was a longshot but suddenly he wasn't feeling as sympathetic towards Bruce Wayne as he was just a few moments before.

/Good. Of course, as soon as we get out of here you're briefing me on everything, understood?/

/Goes without saying./

Admittedly, he'd never met Lucius Fox, but from everything he'd heard Perry say about the man he doubted he'd be involved in some kind of assassination plot. Of course, if they were going after his daughter…

But then why not just go to the police or have Wayne Security handle it in-house? Why else would Wayne handle something like this personally instead of using the other options available to him unless he was planning on doing something illegal and potentially dangerous?

/I realize that you're used to calling all the shots, Bruce; especially when it comes to 'special projects', but if you're as determined to marry my daughter as you say you are, then you'd better get used to the fact that I'm going to be on you like white on rice from here on out. I may have given you a hell of a lot of space in the past but this is the dawning of a new age, my friend; understood?/

Clark's eyebrows shot up in surprise, so his first impression wasn't wrong then. Not only was Wayne making time with his own son's girlfriend but he intended to marry her. He gave a slight shudder of distaste at the thought. That was just…wrong.

/Understood./

He looked at the picture of Tamara Fox and Timothy Wayne again. Someone took a picture of them kissing and laughing outside of a club in Gotham less than a couple of weeks ago and it definitely didn't look like future step-mom and step-son bonding to him.

No way, he thought. He had to be missing something.

/There's something else…/

/What is it?/

Clark's ears perked up.

/I talked to Baby and told her what we discussed last night./

/Let me guess, I'm going to catch hell when I get home?/

/If it helps, I caught the lion's share of it last night then first thing this morning./

And nothing. He was really tempted to hit his head on his keyboard repeatedly at this point but he'd probably just wind up breaking his desk or sending it through the floor then have to explain what happened to Perry.

'Termites' could only do so much.

/Yeah, well, get used to that; her mother could be just as stubborn when she wanted to be./

He looked back at the Forbes and Newsweek's bio's of Fox and noticed he was married twice but they still only listed one daughter, Tamara.

/Look, she understands the media strategy thing and we both agree with you that it would be better to wait the six months. However, Baby doesn't want anyone issuing any press releases until all of this other stuff is settled first so we'd appreciate it if you didn't go to Danny just yet./

/Okay./

/Thank you./

Danny? Dan Burney, Wayne's head of public relations? If Baby was Tamara then no wonder they wanted things to cool down first. Even so, that was going to be a media crapstorm.

/Did something happen between the two of you?/

/It's that obvious, huh?/

"Now it is," Clark muttered with an arched eyebrow.

He tried to picture his own father dating his high school girlfriend, Lana, and shuddered.

He would not want to be at that house for Thanksgiving next year, that's for sure.

/You just have that look every man gets when the woman he loves gives him hell for the first time after he proposes. Plus, Baby is her mother's daughter and the first time Evie and I had a fight after I asked her to marry me I was absolutely convinced she was going to leave me. I thought for sure that I had made the biggest mistake of my life and wound up calling every florist in town to try to make up for it./

Wait…

He frowned and went back to the screen with the information he'd pulled up on Evelyn Fox.

/Did that help?/

/Nope. It just made her even madder. She told me that all she wanted was me, not a bunch of expensive flowers, and that the next time I wanted to apologize I should just try talking to her instead of spending six thousand dollars on roses./

Evelyn Smoak-Fox, born 1972, died 1995 of complications from Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. She was only twenty-three, Clark noted sadly.

There was a lot of tragedy in both the Wayne's and the Fox's lives. "Guess money can't buy you everything," he murmured to himself as he remembered his own mother's frequent utterances on the subject.

Evelyn Smoak and he married in August of 1992 under a bit of scandal. Most of the 'legitimate' press like The Daily Planet either ignored it or only made a brief note of the marriage in the society or business sections, but the gossip rags went after the woman he married like she should be walking around town with a scarlet 'A' pinned to her chest.

He opened another link that contained her bio along with examples of her work. He wasn't much of an art fan. He appreciated it, but he never really had the time to wander through museums or art galleries. Still, he knew what he did and didn't like; 'yes' to stuff that looked like stuff and 'no' to random paint splatters and banana peels on pedestals. He clicked on the JPEG of a painting Fox donated to the Leukemia Foundation that was purchased by Bruce Wayne a few years ago, his eyes appreciatively taking in the child's laughter and the way the light danced over her white blonde hair.

Now this he liked.

It was a beautiful painting, so much so that he stopped listening to their conversation for a moment while he took in all the details. Even in a photograph he could tell that she had been an incredibly talented artist.

"My Happiness," he said out loud as he read the caption below the photo.

He clicked on an expanded view of the painting as well as an article written about both the painting and the artist herself.

'My Happiness' is one of the last paintings ever completed by the artist in her all too brief career. Touted by many critics as her masterpiece, many have compared her use of light to Vermeer's use of shadow rather than to the more commercial artists like Thomas Kincade whose paintings can come off as both trite and bucolic. Unlike Kincade, Evie Smoak-Fox never idealized her subject matter, instead finding beauty inside of imperfection.

Also, like Vermeer who she often credited as her greatest influence, she was mostly known for portraiture, her final paintings all being kept in the hands of private collectors and family members. 'My Happiness', a portrait of her daughter with Lucius Fox, was expected to bring in between $250k to $750k at auction despite the fact that, especially in recent years, her work has been highly sought out. Instead, it stunned many in the art world by bringing in a four million dollar high bid from Bruce Wayne who then donated the piece to his own Wayne Foundation's private gallery.

"Wait…" he frowned and looked back at both the picture and Fox's bio.

Nope, two kids; Tamara and Lucius Fox Jr from his first marriage to Tanya Fox but no mention anywhere of a third child with his second wife, Evelyn.

He grumbled in irritation and focused his attention back to the conversation going on above him.

/Glad to see that you were paying attention. To that, at least. What about what we were discussing at the meeting?/

/Honestly, it was all in one ear and out the other./

"I know how you feel," Clark muttered her his breath.

/I thought so. Basically even the executives at Wayne Publishing are pushing for us to sell to Edge. He might be a smug bastard but he's got deep pockets and his focus is actually on media whereas Wayne Enterprises is known more for our tech. The only reason we bought the Planet was for the prestige and having it under our banner doesn't really serve that purpose anymore; especially with this Miller thing hanging over our heads. It's barely breaking even and, win or lose, this thing is going to cost us big time. We already have advertisers pulling their ads because they want to distance themselves from the scandal./

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. If Morgan Edge got his claws into The Daily Planet then he could forget about writing the kinds of stories that mattered. From then on he'd be stuck writing slanted attacks in the form of 'real news' or puff pieces. If he wanted to be stuck working for a paper like The Globe he would have gotten a job there to begin with.

/Fine; tell them I'll take it under consideration and put together some numbers for me to look at./

/You're sure?/

/You said it yourself; it's business, not personal. I don't like the idea of selling to Edge but if the numbers are right, I'll let it go./

Clark felt a tinge of guilt for continuing to listen in at this point. He originally started listening in order to find out what the lawyers were saying about Lois, then stayed because they started talking about this 'Baby' person and the fact that she was being threatened. Now that they were talking business it just felt like he was crossing a line.

He stopped listening, got up, and knocked on the door to Perry's office. It was just a courtesy however. Perry rarely shut it, preferring instead to be available to his reporters at all times without any walls between them.

"Come in," he said, waving him inside as he chewed on his unlit cigar while working at his own computer. "What do ya need, Kent?"

"I thought you quit," he said with a frown as he gestured toward the cigar.

"It's not lit, is it?" He tossed back but took the cigar out of his mouth anyway. "Now what do you want; I'm kind of busy putting out a paper here."

"I just have a question about Lucius Fox. You guys go way back, right?"

He offered him a disgruntled look, "I'm going to tell you, just like I told the other three people who came in here before you; no, I do not have the inside track on what's going to happen to the paper and no, I will not talk to 'my buddy' about keeping you on in case of layoffs. We're all in the same sinking ship, Kent; me more than anybody else here."

"That's not what I was going to ask," he said, moving further into the room. "I was doing some research on Lucius Fox—"

"Why?" He asked flatly.

"Why?"

"Yes Kent, 'why'? Why would you be doing research on Lucius Fox when you're supposed to be covering the Superman beat while Lois is on medical leave? Last I heard Lucius Fox wasn't Superman," he returned sarcastically.

"He could be; the only pictures we've got of the guy are pretty fuzzy," he joked.

"You're hilarious, Kent. You should go into comedy after I fire you for wasting my time."

He cleared his throat and adjusted his stance slightly, "I was looking into the Miller thing again and was doing some background research on Wayne Enterprises when I noticed a discrepancy."

Perry gave him a hard look, "Again; what does Miller have to do with Superman?"

"Nothing, but Superman isn't doing anything right now so I figured I'd work on this instead," he said quickly.

"And how do you know Superman's not doing anything? For all you know he could be out there rescuing a kitten out of a tree or picking up his blue and red longjohns from the dry cleaners. Read the sign, Kent!" He said, pointing to the wooden placard fixed on the wall above his desk, "There is no such thing as-"

"As a slow news day," he finished for him. "Yeah, I know, Chief; but-"

"And don't call me Chief!" He grumbled.

"Jimmy and Lois call you 'Chief'," he pointed out.

"That's because he's an idiot and she's a Pulitzer Prize winning pain in my ass," he muttered, sticking his cigar back in his mouth and reaching for his lighter.

"No smoking in the building, Ch—er, Mr. White," he reminded him.

"Goddamn it," he said shoving the lighter back in his pocket and snatching the cigar out of his mouth. "Fine! What's this 'discrepancy' that has your panties in a twist? The faster I can get you out of my office, the better."

"I was researching Fox and noticed that he has a daughter from his second marriage but I can't seem to find anything on her, even in our own archives."

"For good reason," he said in an almost cold tone, his steely eyes flashing as his playful grouchiness gave way to genuine ire. "I might have expected someone like Carroll to go after a man by using his kids as a way in through the backdoor but I expected better out of you. You know how I feel about that kind of thing, Kent; if you can't get the news the right way then you don't need to be working here."

"No," he said quickly, "it's not like that at all."

"Then what is it like?" He demanded.

He motioned toward the door then waited for the older man's nod before shutting it and walking closer to his desk, "I got some information that whoever targeted Lois might be targeting others as well."

"Officially the doctors are saying that Lois had a mild stroke," he reminded him.

"Lois was healthy as a horse; there's no way this was a stroke. She was poisoned somehow," he said emphatically.

"Facts not speculation, Kent," he told him gruffly. "Who the hell knows what we'll be next week but today we're still journalists."

"Okay, well here's a fact: strokes don't hack servers," he said wryly.

The older man eyed him irritably, "Fine; you get a doctor to go on record saying she was poisoned and I'll run it on the front page above the fold, now what does that have to do with Lucius Fox and his kid?"

He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat and diving right in, "I have reason to believe that whoever caused Lois's collapse is also threatening Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox. Specifically they're targeting Wayne's fiancée who also happens to be Lucius Fox's daughter."

Perry looked at him blankly for a moment before leaning on his desk and tenting his fingers together, "Come again?"

"I have reason to believe-"

The other man held up a hand, stopping him in his verbal tracks.

"Okay, where exactly did you come by this information?" He asked him in a deceptively level tone. "Because, last I heard, Wayne wasn't engaged to anyone."

Clark shifted his weight nervously, "I, um, sort of overheard them talking about it."

"You sort of overheard them talking about it?" He pursed his lips, "And where did you 'sort of' overhear this?"

He blinked, he didn't think of that part. "Men's room," he said slowly.

He nodded once, "So, just to clarify, Bruce Wayne, a man who owns one of the top security firms in the world, and Lucius Fox, the most intelligent man I have ever met, were, what?" He smiled toothily, "Shooting the breeze around the urinal while you were just standing there listening in?" He cleared his throat and leaned forward a little further, "Do you want to know why I don't believe you, Kent?" He asked in a confidential tone. "Three reasons and, no, not for the reasons I've already mentioned because smart people do stupid things all the time and rich guys who think they're indestructible make even dumber mistakes. No, I don't believe you because A) The meeting just broke up not more than ten minutes ago and you haven't moved from your desk in the last hour and a half. I know this because not five minutes before you walked into my office, Sam Weitzman called me to tell me the meeting broke for lunch and asked if I could come up later to answer some questions related to Lois's investigation. B) Because you said you heard this in the men's room and, I don't know what men do at the urinal where you're from, but here in Metropolis men don't engage in heartfelt conversations while taking a leak. And C) You can't lie for shit."

He cleared his throat, "Anonymous source?"

"Get out of my office, Kent," he said gruffly.

"I'm telling you that someone overheard them talking about the fact that Lucius's daughter was being threatened by someone attached to the Miller thing."

He sighed, "Why would anybody connected to Miller be threatening Tam?"

"Not that daughter, someone called 'Baby'."

Perry sat up and looked at him, his brow furrowed in concern as he dropped all pretense of sarcasm, "Wait, they said someone was going after Baby?"

"Yes, but I can't find anything on anyone named 'Baby' except a brief blurb on an art website that mentions Lucius and his second wife had a daughter together."

He didn't say anything for a long moment before motioning for Clark to have a seat.

He took a moment to examine the normally caustic but composed older man. His jaw was clenched and his eyes darted towards his phone as though he were thinking of calling someone. Instead, he picked up his unlit cigar again and rolled it in his fingers nervously before speaking, "Let's say I let you run with this story, Kent; what would be your endgame?"

He frowned, "What do you mean? Getting to the truth, of course."

"And what truth is that?"

"The…" He looked at him blankly.

"Look, the paper is done," he said flatly. "Between you and me it's just a matter of time before Wayne sells us out to Edge; it's just business. Edge can do more for this paper than Wayne can and if he's willing to take the financial hit then I don't really give a damn who buys us."

"Morgan Edge will destroy the integrity of this paper," he scowled.

"Integrity," he snorted. "I like you Kent; you're old school like me. When I hired you from the Daily Star, George Taylor told me you were his best and his brightest." He leaned back in his chair, "I've known George for twenty-five years; long enough to know that the reporters he sends to me don't come empty-handed. He always makes sure to teach them what's important before sending them up to the big leagues. Tell me, Kent; what did George teach you?"

"Mr. Taylor taught me a lot of things," he said, feeling oddly like he was being put on the spot for some sort of trespass he wasn't even aware he'd made.

Other than, you know, eavesdropping on a private conversation.

"I'm sure he did," the older man said as he popped the unlit cigar in his mouth and ran his thumbs under his suspenders, "but what's his Golden Rule, do you remember?"

He let out a frustrated breath suddenly feeling like a five year old who was about to be put in the corner, "It's always about the people."

"That's right," the other man said, cocking his finger like a gun and aiming it in his direction, "It's always about the people, always about making the human connection."

"What does this have to do with Miller and Lois?"

"What do Miller and Lois have to do with Baby?" He returned.

His brows drew together in consternation, "I don't know yet, that's why I need to investigate it further."

"So, what? You think if you write an article about Wayne hooking up with Lucius Fox's youngest daughter that will fix everything? Or maybe you can strong arm Wayne into not selling out to Edge by threatening to write an article exposing an innocent girl to intense media scrutiny?"

"No, of course not," he said, taken aback. "You know I would never do something like that, or at least I hope you do."

"Then what's your angle?" He asked him in return. "Where's the beef, Kent?"

"'Where's the beef?'" He repeated wryly.

"Yeah, 'Where's the beef?' as in 'Where's the meat on the bone?'" He rejoined, "You were alive in the eighties, right? You should know this, Kent. I realize you're a real newsman but they invented this thing called 'television' a while back; try watching it sometime."

"I was born in 1983," I think, he added silently. For all he knew he was born ten thousand years ago. Time wasn't really all that relative when you're a newborn in a pod hurtling through space several times faster than the speed of light. "I wasn't really watching a whole lot of television at the time."

"Yeah well, that commercial came out in '84 so that's no excuse."

Perry's sense of humor was not only caustic at times, but highly inconvenient.

"If she's being threatened by the same people who went after Lois then that's news any way you cut it." He looked at his Editor-in-Chief with a hint of suspicion, "You know, if I didn't know any better I might think that you want me to drop this because of your friendship with Lucius Fox."

Perry stilled for a moment before breaking into a slightly forced grin, "And if I were a few years younger and not as laidback and magnanimous, I'd be tempted to knock you on your ass for that, Kent." He gave him a hard look, "But I won't because you might actually be onto something."

"I am?" He asked in surprise.

He nodded slightly. "I've known Lucius Fox a very long time and I knew Baby, too," he said as he relaxed into his chair once more. "He never brought her here but, every once in a while when I'd go to Gotham, I'd see her in his office." He looked out of his window towards the skyline, "She was just this tiny little thing, quiet." He paused as if remembering her. "She never left his side, never cried, never fussed; she would just sit in the corner and color or read a book." He looked up at him, "I was one of the few members of the press Lucius trusted to even be in the same room with her because he knew my policy on kids. If I ever thought Lucius was dirty, friend or no friend, I'd nail his hide to the wall but I'd never allow one word to be written about his kids. Used to be that most journalists respected that kind of thing, but nowadays you have the paparazzi and the supposed 'mainstream journalists' camped out in day care center parking lots and parks just hoping to snap photos of celebrities with their children, even going so far as to scream out stuff just to get a reaction from them because crying babies sell more papers. Lucius never wanted that for any of his kids, but especially not for her."

Despite himself, the look on the older man's face held him spellbound, "Why not? I mean, I get it, but why?"

"She was the last piece of Evie he had left," he said simply. He leaned forward in his chair, "I'd never actually spoken to Baby, never even heard her voice until she was almost five even though I'd seen her on and off since she was in diapers." He took the cigar back out of his mouth and twirled it between his fingers again as though lost in his memories, "Truth be told, I assumed she couldn't speak and just never asked. It wasn't just that she was quiet, it was that she was so…" he frowned, "invisible."

"Invisible?" He repeated with a slight frown.

He shrugged, "She was…I don't know. It's like I knew she was there but I'd forget about her until Lucius would turn to talk to her or call her over. It was a bit disconcerting really seeing a kid that little so composed and quiet. My wife, Alice, had a younger brother who was autistic and I just assumed she was as well since she always seemed so lost and content in her own little world. The first time I heard her speak, Evie had been dead almost a year. We lost our boy, Jerry, around the same time so I couldn't come to the funeral. Alice was a wreck that entire year so, when I went up to Gotham, Lucius suggested I bring her along and even arranged for us to fly first class."

A sadness crept over his face then, "Truth was, that trip was a last ditch effort on my part to save our marriage. Part of Alice blamed me for Jerry's death. He was always a troubled kid, ran the streets, got into trouble; we fought like cats and dogs from the time he was fourteen years old and I found pot in his sock drawer. She said I was too tough on him and that the only reason he got himself shot by some punk is because I threw him out of the house the week before that. He was messing around with some girl and her drug dealing boyfriend went after him. I knew she didn't mean it and she apologized later, but…" he sighed. "Anyway, we're at Wayne Enterprises and Lucius meets us in the lobby with Baby. His ex-wife was there to pick her up and take her someplace but the second she saw Alice, she pulled away from them, ripped this page out of her coloring book, and handed it to her. She said, 'It's a picture of a flower so you won't be sad anymore.' I don't even know how she knew." He smiled, "Lucius said later that he never told Baby about Jerry and, if you didn't know her, Alice looked perfectly normal but Baby knew. Alice reached out for her and I thought for sure she was going to burst into tears or Baby was going to have a screaming fit because I still assumed she was autistic and being around my brother-in-law taught me that unexpected touching was a bad idea, but they were both fine. She just knelt down, accepted the picture, and said thank you before hugging her." He shook his head slightly, "I don't know the how of it or why, but that was the day the light came back into her eyes. When Keith came into our lives a few years ago, Baby was part of the reason why she wanted us to adopt him even though we were probably too damn old to be starting over. She even said, 'If Lucius could do it, why can't we do it at our age as well?'"

Perry turned and gave him a hard look, "I'm not going to tell you not to pursue this; I'm not even going to warn Lucius that you're looking into his daughter to get to where you think this is going. What I will tell you is that George was right; people come first, Kent. Don't hurt an innocent girl just to get justice for this paper or for Lois. Baby didn't poison her and she doesn't own this paper; she's not the one selling us out either, Wayne is. If what you 'heard in the men's room' is true, she's just another victim of this thing so if and when you do go after her, make damn sure you're doing it for the right reasons."

"I understand what you're saying but the truth has to come out," Clark told him even though he felt more than a little uncomfortable saying it. "While I get that she's probably a nice girl, people are getting hurt by this and so is she. If she's being targeted then I need to know why and how she's connected to Miller. Something tells me that she's not just being singled out because of Wayne or her father." He firmed his jaw, "I'm pursuing this even if it means ruffling a few feathers along the way or having to take it to another paper."

The other man looked heavenward as if seeking strength from a higher power, "You know, sometimes I think—no, I know Lois has been a bad influence on you," he said getting up from his desk and walking over to the window to crack it open then took out his lighter and lit his cigar. He puffed on it a few times and fixed Clark with a stern gaze, "Before you open your pie-hole, it's my office and I can smoke if I damn well want to. Secondly, your problem Kent, is that you lack…" he grimaced.

"Lack what?" He asked, rising to his feet warily.

He took his cigar from his mouth and pointed towards the bullpen, "I've known you for a few years now and I like you, I do. You're the last of a dying breed; you're ethical, driven, you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you're affable if not a little too self-effacing at times. You're even a pretty good looking kid even though you need to run a comb through your hair and buy some clothes that actually fit." He gave his rumpled khakis and uneven tie a disgruntled look. "You might even find a girl someday if you'd wear something that didn't look like it'd been slept in, but you lack that spark that connects the rest of us together." His gaze softened at Clark's obvious discomfiture, "I see those other guys going out for beers after work, inviting you along, but you never go. I've seen all the looks you give Lois, seen her treat you like a dog in the manger in response, and yet you never asked her out or called her on her crap; you just let a guy like Jonathan Carroll roll on in without saying 'boo' and you let Lois bully you into doing her grunt work. Basically Kent, you're a loner and our job as journalists is to understand the people we're reporting on. Our job is to record and report on the world around us and how it connects to our reader's lives; how do you expect to become a great reporter if you let life just pass you by?" He gave him an almost pitying look, "Look, you do what you want to do, son. Report the facts, get the story; it's what Lois would do. Hell, it's what Carroll would do, but if you keep missing the human connection then all you're doing is typing, not writing."

For a moment there it wasn't Perry White standing before him but Jonathan Kent, his father. Just the look in the older man's eyes as he dressed him down had him feeling as though he'd shrunk from 6'3" to less than two inches tall.

He dropped his eyes to the floor, "I promise I won't mention her in the article unless I absolutely have to and I'll do my best to keep my distance." He looked up at him steadily, "But if something comes up proving she's involved somehow then I won't protect her or Wayne. If Wayne's dirty or if any one of them are colluding with whoever attacked Lois, then I won't pull my punches."

"Do what you gotta do, Kent," the older man said with a nod. "But while you're working on this I expect you to still be covering the Superman beat. I want something from you by the end of the day even if it's a report on how primary colors are making a fashion comeback. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of my office."

"Thanks Chief," he said as he turned to leave.

"And don't call me Chief!"

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

"Come on," Felicity said, patting the bed beside her and lifting the covers to crawl under the sheets after the dog jumped up to lay beside her. He began to nose at the covers so she lifted them. He crawled underneath then plopped his head on the pillow after turning himself around a couple of times. She tucked the covers over him, her smile broadening as Ace let out a satisfied groan and rolled onto his back, his front paws pointed to the ceiling as he scooted slightly and offered her a grin with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "You're just a goofball, you know that?"

His paw twitched and she rubbed his chest causing him to let out another contented noise. "I have news for you, when Bruce gets back your days of sleeping on his side of the bed are over, my friend."

Ace merely pawed the air again as if telling her not to stop and gave her a look that screamed, 'Not a chance, this is my bed now.'

She looked over at the clock. It was a little bit after five but she and Laurel had decided to try to catch whatever sleep they could if they were going to keep on their toes during the mission. Wildcat left after their late lunch and she had Tam and Zander kick all the workmen out at 4:30 so they could get ready for bed. Renee left around the same time as Wildcat but, much to her surprise, returned a bit later with a large suitcase. She told her that Dick called to let her know that Bruce wanted her to stick close and stay with them in the penthouse just in case. While she appreciated both the other woman's honesty and company, part of her felt a flush of something akin to embarrassment about the fact that both Dick and Bruce no longer trusted her to be alone in what was supposedly her own apartment.

She understood why, of course, but still; she'd been dealing with these night terrors for almost six months now on her own without them. Admittedly, she wasn't dealing with them particularly well, but she'd managed. As much as she liked Renee, it almost felt like Bruce had asked her to stay because he felt like she needed a babysitter.

As soon as the thought came into her mind, her cell began to vibrate on the nightstand. She glanced at the display then picked up, "Hi, I was just thinking about you."

"Well, I've been thinking about you all day so that makes us even," Bruce told her.

It was really hard not to melt a little when he said stuff like that even when she was a little ticked off. "Where are you?"

"The hotel. Your dad and I came back to get some sleep before I head out to confront Mallory later."

"Dad?" She asked with a frown, "He's helping you with this? When did this happen and what exactly will he be doing?"

Bruce let out a disgruntled noise, "He's going to handle coms for me. I told him about the op and about the threat against you and he insisted on being a part of it. He said, and I quote, he 'was going to be on me like 'white on rice' from here on out', end quote."

She felt another fission of anger crawl up her spine, "You told my dad about what was going on?"

"Hey, you suggested I find some backup while I was in Metropolis and Lois didn't have Superman's phone number."

"Funny," she said in a tone that was anything but amused.

He sighed, "The simple fact of the matter is that I've been distracted and all over the place since we spoke this morning and your dad confronted me after the meeting broke off. He wouldn't drop it so I told him the bare minimum; that the reason I went to Starling was because there had been a threat on your life eighteen months ago and that I had reason to believe that whoever was behind the thing with Lois Lane might be targeting you as well. I didn't mention Orbital or anything about Slade, I promise. I did, however, tell him about Queen's operation because whoever this is, they're going after both of us and you're the common denominator along with Isabel Rochev."

She struggled to keep her cool, "We just had this long discussion about you going behind my back and talking to my dad-!"

"I know," he said apologetically. "However, this isn't me trying to get my way; this is about the case and if we're being targeted then they could come after any of us, including your dad. He needed to know what was going on so that he doesn't accidently raise any red flags because if you're being watched then they're probably watching him as well."

"I…I guess you might have a point," she admitted reluctantly.

"I also let him know that we were waiting at least six months like he suggested and not to go to Danny or anyone else about it until we were ready. After we got back to the hotel I went into more detail with him on what we were doing—again, I didn't disclose anything significantly more than what I already told him nor did I go into any particulars about what it was you did for Queen. I did request that he not tell Peggy Ann or Tanya about the engagement if he hadn't done so already. Once I explained everything, he even gave us the go ahead to move in together at the manor *if you wanted to*," he emphasized, "I didn't suggest that or bring it up; he did. He said he understood and that it might even be a good idea, if for no other reason than to keep you safe, but I told him that, for now, it would be best to keep our distance publicly until I knew what was going on. Until then I assured him that you were capable of protecting yourself and that my team would be keeping close watch."

She felt herself soften at that, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but we're still moving in together when all this is over," he said dryly. "And I'm still planning on sharing your bed every night even if I have to sneak in through the entrance to the Batcave."

She smiled, "Sweet talker."

"I'd love to do more than just talk right about now."

She flushed at the intimacy of his tone, "Well, your side of the bed already has an occupant so…"

"Yeah, well, the dog will just have to deal with it when I come home, won't he?"

"How do you know I'm talking about the dog?" She teased then immediately wished she could take it back the second her mind caught up with her mouth.

Like he needed to be reminded of the fact that she almost cheated on him with Oliver that morning.

She was just about to offer him a hasty apology but he never missed a beat, "I know because you and I belong together, remember?"

"I remember," she said quietly. She still had to ask something though, "Bruce, um, why did you tell Dick to ask Renee to stay here at the penthouse?"

"I didn't do it because I think you aren't capable of taking care of yourself or that you can't be trusted," he said, correctly anticipating what she was getting at. "I trust you, I do, but I don't trust Laurel yet and I…" she hear him blow out a harsh breath, "Okay, I'll admit that when I talked to Dick before I talked to you that I was concerned about…" He seemed to take a moment to come up with the right words, "I'm not saying this right," he grumbled. "You somehow have a way of turning me into a babbling idiot."

"Just tell me the truth, even if you think it will hurt my feelings," she told him.

"When he called me I thought you might need someone there but not because I don't trust you. I'm still worried about you now but not because I think you're a danger to yourself or others; it's just that you said you didn't want to give up the guns because you didn't feel safe. Renee is a trained operator, she's got nerves of steel, and she was a cop. If you do have another violent reaction then she's less likely to accidently hurt you than Dick would be. I trained Dick to take down a threat and not be nice about it; she, on the other hand, although just as effective, is trained to restrain someone without seriously hurting them."

"That's still not trust," she pointed out.

"I know it doesn't sound like it but it's not for my peace of mind as much as it's for yours," he said gently. "I know you said you were worried about hurting someone so I wanted someone there who could protect themselves and you at the same time. I couldn't be as sure of Laurel's reactions if you did have another night terror, but Renee I would trust with my life. More importantly, I trust her with yours. I thought that having her there would help you sleep more soundly, especially if you didn't have to worry about Laurel or anyone else accidently walking in on you like Dick did."

Damn it, he was right.

Fuck.

"It's really hard stay mad at you when you say crap like that," Felicity told him irritably.

"That was kind of the point," he said with a hint of amusement.

"You didn't tell her…?" She asked quietly.

"No, and I told Dick not to say anything when I called him back," he promised. "The only thing Dick told her was that, if you did have a night terror, to keep her distance and make sure Laurel didn't try to approach you. Being a trained operator herself, she understood. Actually, truth be told, in a sense she's there more for Laurel's benefit than she is for yours if that makes you feel better."

"A little," she admitted. "By the way, you do realize that you just called me a trained operator, right?"

"Well, I can't exactly call you a civilian and expect her to buy that, can I?" He said wryly. "Besides, according to Dick, the three of you and Wildcat have pretty much formed your own team. Should I be worried that you're taking over the Bat's territory in my absence?"

"I can't help it if I'm better at recruitment than you are," she returned.

"So are we good?"

"We're good," she said after a moment's consideration. "I get it. Besides, I already got my revenge this morning."

"What did you do?" He asked warily.

"I bought a grill for the garden."

"A grill?" He asked in surprise. "How is buying a grill revenge?"

"It was a sixteen thousand dollar grill."

Silence.

"Why did you buy a sixteen thousand dollar grill?" He asked at last.

"Wildcat picked it out; he wanted to make us steaks for lunch."

"Figures," he grumbled and she could practically hear him rubbing his temples. "I don't care if you buy a million dollar grill, just don't buy it for Wildcat. If he wants a steak he can order it from Carousel."

She pursed her lips, "Well, technically the grill *was* for me and you can use it too so…"

"Why would I use a grill?" He asked dryly. "You already know I can't cook."

"Grilling isn't cooking. It's tossing meat over fire and, according to the reaction Wildcat and the workman had to that thing, it's hardwired into your DNA."

"Fine, I'll run right out and buy a 'Kiss the Cook' apron when I get home," he said sarcastically.

"Already got you one," she told him. "And Wildcat got one that says, 'My Meat is Well Seasoned, Ready to be Rubbed by the Right Woman, and Always Served Hot'."

"I really don't like Wildcat," Bruce said at last. "The only reason I still go by his gym for training occasionally is so I have an excuse to lay him on his ass."

"Aw, you have a best friend besides Alfred," she teased. "That's so cute; it's almost as though you're becoming a social butterfly."

"You are so not funny," he told her flatly. "Baby…" He paused, "I realize this is a bit off-topic and I'm not trying to upset you but I need to ask you something."

"What is it?" She asked.

His tone was somber, almost hesitant, "When we talked this morning you said Slade didn't hurt you; were you telling me the truth?"

"He didn't rape me or anything," she said, her face growing hot, but not with embarrassment.

"But it was…" he seemed to struggle for a moment, "assault."

"Not, um…" she closed her eyes, "He touched me, my, um, breast," she choked out in a near whisper, "through my clothes and kissed me." She took a breath, "He wasn't violent though and it was just for a second…"

"It's still assault," he told her, his voice hard with anger that was obviously not directed towards her. "Your friend Laurel will tell you that anytime someone touches you without your consent, it's assault. He assaulted you, he touched you against your will in a sexual manner. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know that," she said, wrinkling her brow as she drew her knees protectively towards her chest.

"I know you know, but I've been thinking about this all day and…" she heard the rustle of covers against the receiver, "When I would have violent episodes like the one you had last night it was usually because I blamed myself for something; that some innocent was killed due to the fact that I couldn't get there fast enough or that someone got away from me. It was like they were a punishment, like my subconscious needed to remind me of my failures. I'm not saying that it's the same for you but, just in case, I wanted to tell you that none of it was your fault. You did nothing wrong."

"I killed people," she said in a voice that was barely a whisper, hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "I killed a lot of people. I don't even know how many, but at least two besides Slade. It could have been six, or sixteen; I know I emptied my gun but I lost count of the number of bullets." She began to shake as she waited for his reaction, "Do you still…?" She choked up.

"I will always love you," he said fiercely. "Don't ever doubt that."

"But-!"

"No buts! It was not your fault," he said adamantly. "You saved lives; your life, Lance's life, and the lives of your team. You had no other choice."

"You don't kill," she said swallowing. "You…I'm a killer now."

"No," he told her. "You're a survivor." He paused, "If anyone is to blame for anything, it's me."

"You weren't there," she objected.

"Exactly," he told her. "I should have been there; I shouldn't have let you go in the first place. I should've made sure that when you did go that you knew I would still be there when you needed me to be but because I was too busy being a selfish prick, you had to face that alone. That makes it my fault, not yours."

"I knew you would have come if you could. Besides, I'm kind of used to being alone," she joked feebly through her sniffles.

"You were never alone, Baby," he told her. "Not even for a second. I may not have been there physically but there was never a day that went by that I didn't think about you. For the last four years you were the first thing I thought about when I woke up and the last thing I thought about when I closed my eyes. Even when I was with someone else, I never stopped thinking about you. I didn't forget you; I've never forgotten you. I can't forget you and I never will."

She sniffled once more, the tears now running freely down her cheeks, "You know what really sucks right now? That you waited until you were in *Metropolis* before you decided to get all romantic on me. Goddamn it, you so owe me a night of wining and dining after this, I swear to God."

He chuckled, "I promise I will romance the pants off you first chance I get; hopefully I'll manage to do it multiple times, in fact."

"Just don't go investing in any little blue pills beforehand, a girl's gotta sleep sometime," she quipped shakily as she reached for a tissue.

"Oh, when I get home you're going to be missing a lot of sleep. Mrs. Wayne. Medication not required."

She felt her stomach fill with butterflies at his deep, sexy rumble, "I'm not Mrs. Wayne yet," she reminded him.

"You've been Mrs. Wayne from the moment I fell in love with you; it just took me a while to realize it."

"Again with the long-distance romance; you're killing me here," she complained half-heartedly.

"Well, we could always have phone sex…?" He offered.

"Not with the dog watching," she said, glancing over at a now snoring Ace beside her. "That would just be…wrong and I'd never be able to look him in the eye ever again."

"Okay, when I get home that dog is leaving the bedroom because I'll be damned if I let him interfere with me making love to you." He paused again, "I should let you get some sleep, but if you need me for anything you call me, okay?"

"I will, I promise."

"I love you."

"I love you, too," she returned. "Be safe and come home to me in one piece, okay?"

"Always. Goodnight, Baby. And you be safe, too," he added. "I won't ask you not to go into Orbital but that doesn't mean I won't be on pins and needles until I know you're safe. Call or text me when you come home so I know you're okay. Queen, Renee, and Dick are going to be on surveillance while Luke runs patrols, and Wildcat is supposed to be sticking close to you when you go inside. Hopefully I'll be home before morning but, just in case, if I don't hear anything by sun up I'm sending in the troops even if it means blowing the mission, understood? You come first. Always."

"I will, I promise. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

*\?/*\?/*\?/*

Bruce ended the call and laid back against the pillows, his mind too engaged with the mission to sleep. The phone call to Felicity helped but he was still frustrated by the fact that he had to spend another night away from her, especially since he knew she was going into Orbital without him being there. Even with his entire team and part of Queen's watching her, the entire thing put him on edge. Still, he felt a bit of the tightness he'd been carrying inside his chest ease up and vowed to end this as quickly as possible so he could get home.

Another thing it did was make him more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this thing. The sooner he ended this, the sooner he could get Orbital out of their lives so they could move forward once and for all. They were nearing the finish line, he could feel it. Now all he had to do was get the answers he was looking for.