I'll never let you down
Even if I could
I'd give up everything
If only for your good
So hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared
You won't always be there
So love me when I'm gone
Love me when I'm gone

When I'm Gone, 3 Doors Down



2058

            At home after the funeral Grace found Maria was in the kitchen feeding the baby.  The older woman looked up as she came in and smiled.

            "Di' things go well, niña?" she asked kindly.

            "Not really."  What was there to say?  A lot of sympathetic people that didn't have the first idea how she felt and a long lost sister she wished she'd never met.  Her head throbbed unbearably.  Maria nodded solemnly as Grace walked over and gave the small dark-haired child a kiss on his head.  "I got a lot of flack for not bringing him, but he's too young to know what's going on.  Besides it wasn't for us, it was for them.  We'll say goodbye in our own way, won't we killer?"  Bruce gurgled and stuffed more dry cereal into his mouth.

            "Miss Grace," Maria started tentatively.  "I been thinking.  Maybe Mrs. Mary is correct.  Maybe she taking the baby is a good idea?"

            Grace shook her head.  "He's my sister's child.  I'm not giving him up now."

            "Very well.  I'll help you any way I can."  She paused and looked at Grace expectantly.  "You go to school tomorrow, no?"

            Grace shook her head.  "No.  I won't be going back.  I never liked school anyway."

            There was a heavy sigh.  "Niña, I know it hurts, but you can't hide in this house forever."

            "No you don't know anything!  You have no idea how I feel!"

            Maria lowered her eyes.  "Back home in my country, there was war for freedom.  My brothers, my father, my uncles and cousins, they all fight knowing winning not possible and they all die.  But I remember them with honor."  She looked up again.  "Your father too was warrior for freedom.  You must too remember him - all of them - with honor, not anger and fear and doubt."  She got up and placed a hand on Grace's arm.  "A boat who loses its sail floats aimlessly until it runs aground.  Or sinks."

            "Is that what I'm doing, floating aimlessly?"

            "What do you think?"

            "I think that if I'd been stronger, smarter, more like…him, they'd be alive right now.  I failed them and I'm the one that survived.  Every time I close my eyes I can still see the blast and feel the heat, feel the burning."  She raised her hand to her forehead unconsciously.  "How can I know that any decision I make now is the right one?  How will I ever be sure of anything again?"

            "You won't niña," Maria said maternally, the subservient tone of before having vanished.  "But you should trust your heart.  It is a good heart, one your parents gave to you."

            But right now it doesn't feel so good, she thought sullenly.  "Thanks.  I'll be in my dad's study if you need me."

            The room was dark and cool, with its thick curtains drawn to keep out the summer sun.  She sat in the large leather chair, hands lying palm-down on the old oak desk, imagining the generations of Waynes that had preceded her. On the right corner was a famed photograph – Isabella radiant in white silk and lace, Terry beside to her with a huge grin.  Mardi smiled proudly next to Bruce who gave an air of mild indifference, even though they all knew he couldn't be happier.  And in front stood Grace, thirteen and ungainly, clad in the ugliest dress in the world and looking as if she'd rather be any place else.

            She swallowed back a sob as she reached for the picture.  She would give anything to relive that day.



2054

            Green.  Could there be a worse shade of green on God's, well, green earth?  Isabella Martha Wayne, most sought after debutante of modern Gotham society, beautiful, smart, and soon to be the savior of her family's company, had chosen the color of a lizard's underbelly for her bride's maids' dresses.

            Grace sighed for the millionth time as she stood before her floor-length mirror, regarding the rather pathetic image in the glass.  And just what did they think they were doing putting her into the wedding party anyway?  She was the proverbial ugly duckling with no hope of turning into a swan.  She pawed at her hair trying to make it lay down instead of sticking out at odd angles.  Why did she let her mother talk her into growing it out? 

            She left her room and knocked on her parent's door.  Mardi opened it with a smile.  "Hi honey.  Need some help?"

            "I need a new life," Grace moped.  "Why did she have to pick this color?  It's awful."

            "It's not that bad," Mardi chided gently.

            "It looks like an avocado exploded all over me."

            "It works with the color scheme honey.  Now come in and let me do your hair and makeup."

            Grace huffed, but allowed herself to be led to her mother's vanity table.  "Where's Dad?" she asked as Mardi sat her down on the bench and picked up her silver brush.

            "In the bathroom.  Now how would you like it?  Up?  Pulled back?  Braided?"

            "Shaved off?"

            Mardi sighed and ran the brush through her hair.  "How's Bella doing?"

            "How should I know?  She kicked me out.  Said I was under foot."

            Mardi sighed again.  "Well I guess I'll check in on her in a moment."

            Bruce walked through the bathroom door and Grace turned to look at him. "Ow!" she exclaimed as Mardi hit a snarl.

            "Sorry honey."

            "Mardi do you know where my cuff links are?"

            "Where they always are," she responded before walking over to a highboy, lifting the lid of a large, gold-plated box and reaching in to pluck out the tiny clips.  "Not that you have much use for them anymore now that you refuse to go anywhere."

            "Thank you," he said as she handed them to him.  Grace watched him place each one in the buttonholes of his tuxedo shirt.  She knew they were gold with a diamond-encrusted 'W' on each and that they had been in the family for five generations.

            "You could give those to Terry," she remarked and both parents looked at her expectantly.  "You know.  An 'M' is just an upside down 'W'."    She shrugged at their twin looks of incomprehension.  "It was just an idea."

            "It was a good idea sweetheart," her mother said as she resumed brushing.

            A short time later there was a sharp pounding at the door. 

            *Bang bang bang*  "Mother!  We're going to be late!  I can't be late for my own wedding!"

            "We've got plenty of time Bella.  Why don't you come in here and…."

            *Bang bang bang*  "Mom are you in there?!"

            Mardi looked into the mirror.  "She doesn't have her veil on yet, does she?"

            Grace shrugged.  The headdress had been specially made to conceal the HALO device, but it would not be worn until after her hair was done.

            "This is going to be a long day."  She walked over to the door.

            *Bang bang bang*  "Mo-ther…oh!" Isabella gasped as Mardi pulled the door open.

            "Come on in."  Mardi stepped aside and allowed her to enter, the voluminous gown swishing grandly around her and the lacy veil dangling from one clenched fist.  "You got dressed all by yourself?"

            Isabella nodded emphatically.  "Couldn't wait.  We need to be going.  I have to be at the church in an hour," she replied desperately.

            "Hour and a half," Mardi corrected.  "Let me finish with Grace and I'll fix up your hair."

            "You're trying to brush out that rats nest?  Good luck."  Grace stuck her tongue out in retaliation.

            "That's enough," Mardi commanded, forcing her head to look straight, and took the brush up again.

            In the mirror Grace saw Bella start pacing nervously and muttering probably louder than intended, "What was I thinking?  I can't pull this off.  Everything's going to be a complete disaster.  I'm a complete disaster."

            Bruce walked over and gripped her arms firmly so that she would look directly at him, but then instead of speaking he released her and made a slow circular gesture with an open hand over his face.  Even backwards, Grace understood what he'd said:  "You look beautiful."

            That was when she burst into tears.  She sniffled, she wailed, and she hiccupped.  Bruce hugged her against him lovingly.

            Grace craned her neck to watch them and groaned.  "What is it about weddings that turns women into emotional idiots?"

            "I don't know Gracie, but if you don't stop fidgeting we're going to go with the shaving option after all."



            It was an event of epic proportions and the money spent on it could have purchased a small European country.  But Bruce had never desired to own any countries so it was just as well.

            He walked her down the aisle arm-in-arm, a moment he'd never dreamt of before.  This woman, his daughter, was getting married and he was supposed to give her away.  How was a man supposed to give his child away to another without any qualms?  And it wasn't just any man, it was a man he'd brought into their lives, he'd allowed them to meet.  Was Terry really good enough for his little girl?

            Hadn't he trained him, given him everything he needed to be the perfect replacement?  Yet did being Batman qualify him to be Isabella's husband?  Were the two things mutually exclusive?

            But as the young man in question came into view at the end of the aisle he saw something in his face, an anticipation and maybe a little bit of fear but mostly he saw love.  That was good.

            The fear was better.

            Hours later after the vows were spoken and the battery of pictures taken, they were allowed to relax during the reception.  The cake had been cut and the rest of the formalities completed, many of the guests had already bid the new bride and groom farewell, leaving several handfuls of the young couple's contemporaries to enjoy the remaining festivities.  Mardi poked him in the arm and pointed across the room.  At a lone table partially in the dark sat Grace, her chin clasped between her hands dolefully.

            He got up and walked over to her.  "Hi," he said and she looked up.

            "Hi."

            "You're sulking."

            "Not."

            "I beg to differ.  What's wrong?"

            "Nothing.  I did everything that was expected of me.  I didn't ruin the princess's wedding, so why are you bugging me now?"

            At that moment the upbeat music that had been blaring throughout the room changed tempo to a more sedate melody and Bruce had an idea.  "Maybe I'd like to dance with you."

            She squinted at him skeptically.  "Really?"

            "Really."

            On the dance floor she shuffled with an awkward self-consciousness.  "Relax," he commanded quietly.  "Pretend you're on the practice mat."  She looked up at him with a bit of surprise and then shook the tension out of her muscles, allowing him to lead her gently across the floor.  "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he said as they drew away from the nearest dancers.  "I'm sending them away on a honeymoon so they can have some time alone, per your mother's instructions.  That's going to leave Gotham needing a temporary protector."

            "Oh?"

            He nodded gravely.  "There's a Robin suit about your size waiting at home."

            Her mouth opened in comprehension.  "But the rule?  I'm not 14 yet."

            "Rules were made to be bent."

            "Are you sure I'm ready?"

            He smiled.  "You won't be doing anything too dangerous.  Just keeping things in order, and I'll be there to guide you.  We'll be a team."

            "A team?" she echoed with awe, tantalized by the prospect of having her father all to herself.  "That would be so schway!"  Then a thought occurred to her.  "And Mom's okay with it?"

            "Well…"

            "You did ask her didn't you?"

            "I mentioned it."

            "And?"

            "She muttered something about a birthright from hell before walking away."

            "That works, I suppose."  He nodded.  "Thanks Dad," she said.  "I'll try not to let you down."

            "I'm not worried about that.  Now speaking of your mother, I think she's about ready to leave.  Are you coming with us?"

            "Definitely.  Just let me say goodbye."

            She found Isabella and Terry chatting with a group of friends in corner.  Tapping her sister's arm to get her attention, she waved her over to an empty table.  Bella sat down in a chair so they could talk face to face.  "What's up squirt?"

            "We're leaving.  You're not coming back to the house after, are you?"

            "Nope.  We're heading to the airport and then it's straight to Jamaica, mon!"  Her eyes glittered happily. Grace nodded and shuffled her feet around.  "What's the matter kiddo?  Don't tell me you're actually going to miss me?"

            With a shrug Grace replied, "Maybe.  Just a little bit."  She took a deep breath.  "Dad, uh, sort of asked me to, um…"

            Isabella clutched Grace's hands in her own.  "I know!" she said with excitement.  "I helped refit the suit."  She tilted her head quizzically.  "I thought you'd be happier about it."

            "I guess I am, I'm just worried I'll screw up," Grace replied soberly.

            "You'll be great kiddo!  You've been training for this all your life.  You're a natural born crime fighter."

            "Uh huh," she said noncommittally.  "But I'll never be as good as you."

            "You don't have to be as good as me, just be as good as you," Bella encouraged with a gentle squeeze of her hands.

            Grace scrunched up her nose.  "That was kind of corny."

            "It was, wasn't it?"  Isabella giggled giddily, from too much champagne Grace presumed as she chuckled along with her.  "Hey seriously, there's something I've been meaning to tell you Grace.  I may not say it much, or at all even, but as far as little sisters go, I think I'm pretty lucky to have you, when you're not being a brat at least.  Thank you for standing beside me today.  It really meant a lot to have you there."

            "Oh, well, thanks I guess.  Gee, now I feel bad that I told everyone you stuffed your bra."

            "You didn't!" Bella gasped with a shocked expression.

            Grace grinned mischievously.  "Gotcha!"

            "Brat!  Come here."  She pulled Grace into a fierce hug, crushing her against her chest.

            "Can't breath," she gasped melodramatically.  "Death by lace."

            They were both laughing as Isabella released her.  "Now you'd better get going.  I have a lot of celebrating to get done and my husband is looking way too comfortable without me on his arm.  I'll send you a postcard from the Caribbean."  She stood up and placed a hand lovingly against her sister's head.  "You'll be fine.  We're Waynes, remember?"