Life Is Good

by DC Luder

Second in the Series of Three storyline. As Bruce reclaims the mantle of the Bate, the Family draws together to fight old enemies and to make new acquaintances. Ch. 1-10 have been modified as of 12/12/11

6. Life Is Good: VI

Title: Life Is Good

Author: DC Luder

Summary: The second addition in the Series of Three storyline. Set three months after his full recovery, the Dark Knight is back with a vengeance.

Rating: T

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

Author's Note: This chapter ahs been modified from its original version.

^V^

With Cassandra heading to the Clocktower and Tim finally making his way home, it had only been myself, Selina and Mattie attending dinner. I shared my plate of grilled chicken breasts in an apricot citrus sauce with my daughter, although she was less impressed with the broccoli, asparagus and diced tomatoes. After she had her fill, Alfred arrived with a fresh plate for me, citing I would have no problem clearing both.

"Growing boy," Selina joked, reaching over to pat my stomach.

Finally eating myself, I focused more on putting away forkfuls as opposed to conversing with Selina. When Mattie grew fussy in her high chair, Selina rose before I could, picking her up in order to let her sit at the table. Once Mattie was on her mother's lap, she calmed, reaching out to grasp the linen.

"Ready for dessert, kiddo?" she asked before kissing the top of Mattie's head.

"If there's room," I wiped my mouth before sitting back.

Selina said, "First lesson, my child, there is always room for dessert. Especially if Alfred is making lemon cream cake."

Mattie laughed at that, then focused back to the task of trying to steal a spoon off of the table.

After dessert, we retired to the den briefly, letting Mattie crawl about on the carpet while Selina and I sat together on the couch. I legitimately tried not to check my watch every five minutes, or not to look longingly at the door. When Selina caught me, she leaned against my arm and said, "Five more minutes."

I stayed for another eight, four of which I spent on the floor, with Mattie sitting on my chest. As she grinned down at me, I spotted the new tooth that had finally erupted on her lower jaw, the agony of awaiting its arrival finally over. I picked her up just as my watch hit eight, "I think it's bath time, kitten."

Selina stood from the couch, "It's hair washing night."

Looking to Selina, I sighed, "I have to get going."

As she took Mattie from me, Selina sighed, "It's fine, I'll have Alfred help me."

When she went to leave the room, I promptly followed, "Selina, I would-."

She turned around and smiled, "Bruce, don't worry about it," pausing as I paused before her, "It's no big deal."

My mother used to put the same face on whenever my father left mid-meal for the hospital. Or whenever he left before a birthday party. Or Christmas.

I leaned over and kissed them both, hesitating before saying, "I'll call."

Selina replied, "Just don't wake me up when you come to bed."

"I won't."

After watching her walk away, bouncing Mattie in her arms and cooing to her, I headed towards the study, stomaching a sudden sense of guilt with the lemon cream cake. Descending the cold steps, I found myself in the Cave alone for the first time in far too long. The night before came to mind, but with Alfred and Selina and Dick and Tim and Cass coming and going, it was quickly denounced.

Alone. Screeching from above reminded me that I was far from it.

I had to literally force myself to the training bay, knowing that if I started at the lab or the computer, I wouldn't break free before heading out. Given how stiff I had been upon waking that morning, I had only worked on stretching exercises briefly after breakfast. Anticipating another physically strenuous evening, I opted to stick to fairly light drills on the training mats, not even bothering with weights. Enough to get the blood pumping, enough to imagine opponents falling to their knees.

Setting the computer to scan activity and highlight key points that needed touring, I toweled off and suited up. Given how poorly the warehouse had gone, I doubled my reserve of gas pellets and batarangs, inserted brass plates into my gauntlets and donned the heavier cape with the lead weights in the tips. It added a total of fifteen more pounds to the already heavy suit, a weight I would willingly carry.

Pulling the cowl into place, I returned to the computer bay, "Oracle?"

Her image came up before she responded, "Robin and Batgirl are already out, jumpstart on patrols through the east side."

"And Nightwing?" I graveled, sorting through the list on the screen. Excessive calls coming in from the Bowery, Little Stockton and even the Village.

She paused before saying, "He's on his way from Bludhaven now."

"I thought he was here already?"

"No, got called in."

Dick had a number of responsibilities since he had reached adulthood, excluding his self-imagined identity. Aside from college, he had undertaken the grand task of funding his childhood circus, making it so that any foreseeable economic difficulties would never be cause for concern. After bouncing from job to job as a means of giving Dick Grayson stability, he had arrived on entering the police academy, graduating with honors and a prompt placement in the Bludhaven Police Department.

At first, it had been difficult to even think of him in uniform let alone in a city as corrupt and violent as Gotham once had been. More police officers were shot and stabbed every year in Bludhaven, not to mention their funding was considerably less in regards to supplying body armor and combative training. Granted, Dick had an incalculable advantage to those he served with, but fighting crime in the broad daylight was completely different than doing so in the safety of the dark.

When it was boiled down, my true concern had and would always lie with the fact that he was armed with a nine-millimeter Smith & Wesson. A 5906 pistol made of stainless steel with double action feeding for fifteen round clips, firing bullets upwards of twelve-hundred feet per second. Standard issue for the BPD and also one of the most affordable and easily accessible weapons to obtain on the streets.

I had seen Dick in uniform a not much more than a dozen times, most of which had been during my recovery. Every time, my eyes had never focused on his face, the glossy badge on his chest nor the polished boots on his feet. Anytime I had seen him decked in black, my eyes had fallen to the gun holstered at his hip. In his training to become Robin, I had taught him that guns were never meant to be feared, only respected. He had to learn the ballistics of fired rounds from anything from a purse pistol to an sniper's rifle, in addition to learned how the weapons themselves operated.

He had earned two certificates at the academy for marksmanship.

He was trying to make a difference from the inside, something I could have never done.

Alfred had gone to see him graduate, to watch him take his oath…

"Any rate, still haven't found any targets remotely worth Harvey's attention. Batgirl's already check out the town house on Alula Street, definitely signs of being inhabited for the last month but no one was there tonight. She left sensors and recorders everywhere, so if they do go back, we'll know first thing."

"Keep her patrolling the area."

"Done," she replied.

"Have Robin move to Waverly Place, there's been six carjacking this week alone.."

"Also done…"

Of course, I grunted, she had been acting without me for over a year, he didn't need me to tell her what to do, barking orders.

Rising to my feet, I stared up at the monitor as I told her, "Have Nightwing start on the docks as he comes through."

"Sure thing…" she paused before saying, "And Bruce?"

I didn't like it when she called me that, not with the cowl firmly in place. Then again, she had never concerned herself with what I preferred, something that had once been aggravating.

That was before.

She finally said, "Be careful."

I opted not to respond, only shutting the connection. Rising to my feet, I heard Alfred from behind me, "Wise words, sir, perhaps wise enough to adhere to."

Glancing at him, I felt like snapping something back at him, but found myself asking, "How are they?"

"Miss Mattie has been bathed and is being put to bed as we speak."

"Good… Tell her… I'll call later."

He nodded curtly, "Very good, sir."

^V^

Waverly Place was a nice enough neighborhood, packed full of brownstones and townhouses, off-street parking for shiny imports and plenty of middle-aged fitness fanatics jogging with their Labradoodles. For the most part, we rarely patrolled the area, opting to focus our limited time to parts of the city that statistically guaranteed criminal activity. In fact, the last time I had been through the pristine streets had been seven months earlier, investigating a missing persons case that ended with a twelve-year-old girl hiding in an attic as to not have to eat cauliflower.

When numerous stolen car reports had popped up in the span of a week, it had raised a very pretty flag in Waverly Place. I had told Barbara that I was going to check it out before getting to work on another night of questing for Two-Face. She had agreed, promising to let me know if anything more urgent than socialites getting held at gunpoint came up. Deep down, I had hoped that she wouldn't call, that nothing would come up.

I had categorized the previous night as a failure, despite the evidence we had collected and the suspects we had in custody. Looking through it all, it didn't tell us what Harvey was planning, where he was or when he was going to strike. Granted, it was only his first night out or Arkham, but he had obviously put a considerable amount of effort in to getting a head start. The townhouse and warehouse, weapons, collection of thugs and vehicles…

Then again, Two-Face was once District Attorney Harvey Dent and Harvey Dent was a brilliant lawyer, able to put away the most sinister of criminals through unwavering prosecution.

"Robin?"

"Yes," I whispered over the comm. Link, hidden on my perch in a massive oak tree.

"Just thought I'd let you know, the boss wants you to check on the car thefts."

"Oh, does he?" I asked.

"I told him you were already on it."

"Gee, thanks. Now I'll definitely get the gold star…"

She snickered before saying, "You were already in the lead, going to impound… suck up."

"I prefer sycophant," I whispered, "Oops, gotta go."

A glossy black Lexus sedan was crawling up the street, the driver naturally talking on her cell phone instead of keeping a watchful eye. Parking on the street, in front of a fire hydrant no less, she killed the ignition, still chatting away. Had she been mildly responsible, she would have noticed the two men that had come out of her neighbor's hedges.

I was torn between letting them actually get up to the vehicle to frighten her into being a more responsible citizen, but decided it was better to play it safe. The two perps were of little consequence, mid-twenties, roughly the same build at five-six and five-eight. Dressed in jeans, hooded sweatshirts and ball caps, I noted they also had been mildly intelligent enough to wear leather gloves.

They were twenty feet away from the car when I dropped down, choosing to make them suffer mildly instead of instantly taking them out with my bo staff. A squarely planted kick to the solar plexus of the short caused him to topple into his accomplice. Being young and spry, they managed to keep on their feet.

The taller one, sporting his loyalty to the Packers, whipped his small pistol out, "I'll shoot you, punk!"

I smirked before driving forward, chopping his wrist down before landing a blow to the cluster of nerves above his shoulder. He roared in pain before his arm went numb, dropping the gun at his feet. When his companion reached for it, I slammed my elbow into his cheek, sending a tooth flying before he joined it on the pristine sidewalk. I then spun around, swiping out the midsection of the thug remaining with my right leg. As he gracefully fell on top of his partner, I finally picked the gun up, not surprised to see it was empty of bullets.

"Clever, boys, real clever."

Bagging the weapon, I proceeded to cuff them to one another, anchoring them to the end of a wrought iron fence. Looking over to the Lexus, I smiled and waved at the young woman, standing in silent terror, her hand still holding the cell up to her ear. I assured her they weren't going to hurt her and informed her that the police were on their way. She blinked, closed her gaping mouth and asked, "Can I have your number?"

All I could think of to say was, "Uh… sorry, we don't usually make house calls."

I had parked my cycle three blocks over, hidden between a pair of birch trees at the rear of a dog park. Making my way back, I listened to the police scanner over my ear piece, somewhat relieved that nothing of importance. I had to dip into the hedges once when the squad car came around the corner, lights flashing. Once they passed, I jogged the final fifty yards, only to find my bike was gone.

"You have got to be kidding me…" I sighed before looking up and down the street, I hadn't heard a cycle start up… unless it was masked by the sirens…

"You are too easy, man…"

I spun around to see Nightwing pushing the cycle towards me, "You ass."

"Dick," he smirked as he paused before me, putting the kickstand out before letting the cycle rest. "Selling cookies or fighting crime?"

"Funny," I threw a leg over the bike, "Carjackers."

"Ah, you called that in." He was maintaining the lightness in his voice, but up close he looked practically dismal. Perhaps another haggard day on the beat had reminded him of the horrors of the humanity. Or maybe he had washed a red sock with the white towels at the Clocktower.

I looked over after a few silent moments and asked, "So?"

He shrugged his shoulders as his brow deepened in thought.

I offered a smile, "You've been hanging out with Bruce way too much."

His face hardened, "No. The opposite. I haven't been spending anytime with Bruce. Just him."

I nodded, for there was no explanation needed. The same could have been said for me. In the last year I had spent more time with Bruce than I had in my entire life. There were times since his recovery that he let the armor crack, that we had a glimpse of the man we had come to know. For the most part, he had been all business with us, as if he was trying to deny the relationship we had all developed with him.

Alfred had said over the summer that Bruce now had to deal with the man he was, the man he became and the man he needs to be.

It was no wonder he was grouchy.

Silence returned as our trained eyes caught movement down the street. We watched carefully as another pair of young men stepped out from seclusion, prompted by oncoming headlights. They were bolder than the men I had encountered, racing out into the street in order to stop them with distraction before sealing the deal with the wave of a gun.

"Well, well… what do we have here," Nightwing smirked before jumping on the back of the cycle.

We closed the quarter of a mile in seconds, racing by the man at the driver's side door so that Nightwing could knock him down with an escrima stick. By the time the accomplice realized what was happening, we had already turned around and started coming after him. Fruitlessly, he started running, flailing his arms in a way that made my passenger laugh in my ear.

"Batter up," Nightwing called out, his escrima stick on the ready.

I radioed into dispatch again, after I made Nightwing stop laughing.

Avoiding approaching police cars, I took him back to his own cycle, also conveniently hiding in the dark dog park. After I cut the ignition, he hopped of while asking, "Where's the big guy? Couldn't have anything big on Dent if he has you out here."

"I came out on my own, figured something was up." I nearly asked what was wrong

"Atta bird," he retrieved his helmet from the side compartment.

Nightwing was about to speak again when Oracle sounded on the open line, "We aren't lounging around, are we?"

"No," Nightwing responded, "We are… on our way… to… the Clocktower?"

"No. The palindrome theme may be capoot. County Judge Ray Harding is missing, I need one of you there to look the scene over."

We started our cycles, taking off down the empty an all-too quiet street. On the small console, the LED screen brought up a GPS navigation map. Highlighting our position, it showed the optimum route into Stockton and to the judge's penthouse.

Leading the way, I heard Nightwing in my earpiece, "Maybe Harvey is getting predictable in his old age."

"GCPD is already posting guard on judicial figures, but they were too late for the DA."

"Harvey nabbed him, too?" I questioned.

There was a pause before she replied, "Harvey killed him and his wife. Took their kids."

"Jesus," Nightwing sighed.

She proceed, as professional as ever, "Batman is taking a look at the DA's house. Batgirl is maintaining patrols, if one of you would be so kind as to help her.

Before Nightwing could speak, "I replied, I'll take the penthouse."

Had it been any other crime scene, he would have contested for a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. We often squabbled over who had to patrol the wharf and the sulfur stagnant Narrows, not to mention fighting over who had to baby sit obnoxious and unappreciative victims until the police arrived.

If there hadn't been two bodies on the way to the morgue and two orphaned children being held hostage by Harvey Dent, surely he would have demanded at least two out of three.

^V^

The sky was surprisingly clear in the district of Stockton, far from the factories and salty barges and relentless commuter traffic. A good wind was also responsible, bringing up a storm system from down in Virginia. Although the day had seen a high of eighty-nine, the thermometer readout on the unmarried's dash had shown it to be nearly fifty-nine. Alone in the car, I took a deep breath before opening the door, opting to bring my coat along with me.

The former District Attorney Darrel Sturgis had lived modestly on his city salary. In court, he had sported tailored suits and drove a leased Audi, his townhouse had been two stories of slate blue trimmed in navy on a tiny lot. The hedges were military crisp and spotted with rose bushes that had been carefully tended to. There were outdoor toys stored in the garage, organized as best as having two young kids would allow.

He had been in office for only a year, focusing intently on putting and end to money laundering and ousting crooked corporations. He had served six years as the Assistant DA in Chicago, something that had certainly bought him points in my book. Working alongside him had been like working with a younger and more optimistic version of myself. Then again, when I had been a younger man, I hadn't seen the awful things that life would bring…

He had been tall, well muscled with broad shoulders and long legs, an avid fan of swimming and racquetball as opposed to basketball or football. His wife, as I recalled from what few functions I had seen her at, was tiny next to him, barely five-four and carrying only one hundred and twenty pounds on her frame. She worked at at-risk youth centers in the worst part of towns, reaching out to a community that she had emerged from herself.

I had never met their children, but my only wish was to find them alive so that I might.

Not an hour earlier, I had received an anonymous tip that Judge Harding had possibly been kidnapped. Immediately, I had made the call that every off duty officer available was to report in. Stationing them at all judiciary officials homes and places of work meant over six hundred officers just sitting and waiting. Another three hundred had reported in and were stretched throughout the city, following leads and tips however ridiculous.

With forensics and detectives scouring Harding's place, a similar scene was unfolding before me. Flashing lights, SUV's double parked, radios squawking and seemingly and endless stream of people walking about, wearing either forensic jackets or police uniforms.

I walked by them, pretending to yell into my phone so that I would fit in.

Making my way behind the small garage, I found a small swatch of fenced in grass, most of it taken up by a cedar play ground, complete with swings, a slide and small clubhouse.

It was the only place he could find proper concealment.

"He's certainly not wasting time," I sighed.

"I need them to clear out," Batman growled, stepping out from behind the ladder.

I nodded, "I had the coroner leave the bodies."

"Who's on the case?"

I searched my mind, "They're from Little Stockton, this precinct doesn't have a homicide division. Two detectives, Aaron Carpenter and Peter Scalvian. Good guys, good heads on them… also not afraid to get a little outside help." there was no point in discussing what few details we had, namely how the babysitter had arrived to find the children gone and their parents shot to death. He had never walked into a crime scene without knowing every minute detail he could muster before crossing the yellow tape.

Else wise, it would have been a waste of his time.

I glanced back towards the house while reaching for my radio, "Carpenter, it's Gordon."

"Yeah, Commish?"

"Clear them out."

There was a pause before, "Copy that."

He studied the patio entrance from the rear of the house from a distance before closing in, examining the door for forced entry. I watched as he appraised a small pink bicycle with training wheels and sparkly streamers on the handlebars that sat on the small deck. Light flooding out from the kitchen had put a literal spot light on his face, showing the intense focus in his eyes and stoic grimace on his lips. Where he had been able to contain his poise, I had let a shudder run down my spine.

"All clear, Commish," came over the radio and without waiting for me, he stepped inside.

Entering the kitchen slowly, I watched him as he eyed everything with the same focused look. I had always thought that he viewed the entire world in an analytical way, and not only crime scenes and evidence. Criminals, cops, peers and even me. His mind never rested, never stopped spinning the wheels, which no doubt had made his year recovering from amnesia torturous.

I followed as he progressed through the immaculate house, adorned with family portraits, framed finger paintings and certificated of achievement. There was no outward sign of a struggle, no indication that there were two bodies upstairs waiting for black bags. Batman paused and crouched a number of times, using sterile tools to pick up fibers or to photograph seemingly nothing on the floor. The tip about the serial numbers and VIN belonging to the same person had come from him, naturally, hours before our forensics put things together.

While they had been sleeping, he had been hunched over a microscope somewhere.

The children's rooms were to the left and right of the top of the stairs. The boy's room was dimly lit and in a normal disarray of preteen hood. Dirty clothes, crumpled paper balls and a wide variety of sports equipment showing he had different tastes than his father. The girl's room was painted purple and was inundated with horses with pictures, figurines and books covered the living space. Although not as disorganized as the brother's room, to the naked eye, nothing out of place aside from empty beds.

Approaching the master bedroom, Batman stood for a moment, mentally preparing himself for the bloodbath within. We hadn't exchanged a single word since entering the house, and his knowing where each of the rooms were had me wondering if he had taken a look at the residential blueprints. I had yet to enter the room myself and couldn't fight the feeling of dread in my stomach as he reached for the doorknob.

He and I had seen the best of what Harvey Dent was capable and the worst that Two-Face could unleash.

The light shades of tan and sand gave the blood a startling contrast. Charla had been on the bed, reading when she took two bullets to the temple. Although bloodied, her face was still peaceful with the mask of slumber, the book still held loosely in her right hand. According the babysitter, the Sturgis' were going out for dinner and a movie. The late DA's wife appeared to have been dressed and ready in a knee length black skirt and what had once been a coral fitted blouse.

Darrel Sturgis had still been getting ready, wearing black socks, dark slacks and an unbuttoned blue dress shirt. Batman crouched next to the fallen body that sprawled over the stained rug, his neck was bruised and irritated as from being strangled. The coroner had preliminarily reported that asphyxiation hadn't occurred, however, that death had resulted from a two gunshot wounds to the back of the skull, severing the brainstem before exiting out his throat.

Batman rose effortlessly and toured the room, moving into the adjoined bathroom before returning, "He shot her first, silencer. Had his men already holding the children, possibly downstairs in the den."

I nodded but remained silent.

"He wanted Sturgis to come running out of the bathroom, had someone grab him and put him in a chokehold… showed him his wife… But something went wrong, coin was supposed to come up heads."

Finally, I said, "Heads, simply take him and tails would be-."

"Death," he turned to face me, "Whatever he's doing, he needs two hostages…"

"But why take the children, that makes three? If he was so willing to kill the wife… why not just take the DA, leave the kids… or kill them?" I asked himself quietly.

He paused in thought before physically jerking, "The boy was twelve, and the girl was-."

I gasped, "Six years old. Half his age. How could he have resisted?"

To my surprise, he returned to the body of the DA and studied the floor around him, "No shoes."

After a moment, he stood, traversing the room to look in the closet. I followed, watching from above as he scanned the various men's shoes on a rack. He quickly sought out a pair of black leather Kenneth Cole slip-ons that had been placed backwards compared to the others.

Inside one was a blank business card; the other held a crudely folded orange piece of construction paper. I moved closer as he said, "Addresses. Manchester and Irving Grove. Both say midnight or else."

"Oh God," I uttered while looking the scraps over in his gloved hands, "I'll send the closest units-."

"No. Don't," he growled, putting the notes in his belt before running to the window.

"You can't be in two places at once!" I called out as he proceeded to open the window.

He glanced back at me, "I don't need to be," before jumping out.

By the time I made it over and looked down, he was gone.

^V^

Once upon a time, the evening news broadcast was a mildly respectable program, highlighting events that had taken place throughout the world and noting special interests of a more local nature. As the years progressed, the news media seemed to grow increasingly dependent on tragedies and scandals to provide them with suitable ratings. Warnings of very rare diseases and disorders, conflicts blown out of proportion and the ridiculous obsession with the personal affairs of celebrities had put me off watching any news broadcast, no matter what time it aired.

And yet there I was, sitting in the den with Ms. Selina, watching a new bulletin at eleven-thirty in the evening. The focal point was none other than escapades generated by Harvey Dent, which were regrettably being reported in a factual manner.

Following dinner, Ms. Selina had sought me out in order to aide in bathing Miss Mattie. Although the young child loved sitting in a warm bath, she was quite resistant to having her thick locks of hair washed and rinsed. Due to her insistence, it was often only tended to every other night, with Master Bruce carefully holding her and trying to distract her. The same applied to having her ears swabbed and nails clipped, when safe in her father's arms, she was generally compliant.

"Should have bathed her right after we ate," Miss Selina had sighed as I followed her upstairs to the third floor, "Instead of playtime."

"I assure you, madam, it is no bother…"

She had glanced back at me, "You say that now. Wait until she has her big toe in your eye."

I had smirked at that, responding with, "Fear not, Ms. Selina, having spent many a year corralling Master Bruce into a bath, I feel I am well prepared to do the same to his daughter."

Given that every bedroom on the third floor had an attached bathroom, we had made a minor renovation to the one adjoining the nursery. As opposed to matching basin sinks, Master Bruce had installed a large Kohler sink that acted marvelously as a safe and efficient bath tub for his young child. As I went about filling it with warm water and retrieving supplies from the small closet, I had listened to Ms. Selina in the next room, cooing to her child softly.

Although I would never admit it aloud, having a child had brought about an unforeseen kindness in both mother and father. Both of their lives had been hewn and controlled by violence for so long, and yet in Miss Mattie's short life, they had rapidly involved into tender and caring souls. Truth be told, the gentleness had been there all along, only buried deep behind scars and fear and masks. I had seen glimpses from time to time, but the endless outpouring of it was something to behold.

"All right, Mattie, let's get all of this zoo off of you."

I had turned to see Ms. Selina entering the bathroom, her naked child in her arms. Out of habit, she had tested the water with her hand, smiling, "How do you get to be the perfect temperature every single time?"

"As I said, madam, many years ago… I had to corral Master Bruce into a bath."

She had gently set Mattie down into the water, making sure the child was sitting upright comfortably before hading over the child's beloved rubber duck. As Miss Mattie gripped it, she had instantly brought it to her mouth, biting down on its orange bill.

While wetting a wash cloth, Ms. Selina had admitted, "Bruce cheats, he uses a thermometer. He says he doesn't but I've caught trying to hide it in the drawer."

Watching on, I had remarked, "Master Bruce has always been very technical, very precise."

Occupied by her duck, Miss Mattie had remained practically motionless whilst her mother delicately washed her and rinsed her body, letting the young girl enjoy the warm water for as long as she desired. When her mother retrieved her and wrapped her in a light blue towel, I had proceeded to drain the sink and rinse it thoroughly with the hose extension.

"Well, hold or wash?" Ms. Selina had inquired.

"I shall hold, madam."

After taking the child into my arms, I had offer a momentary distraction with quiet duck sounds, making her eyes grow wide as they found my face. Wrapping the towel around her, I had then gently set her down on the counter, positioning her on her back with her head barely over the sink. She had grown a bit anxious, knowing what was heading her way, but the odd quacks and clucks kept her mind off of it, as did the duck bill still firmly held in her mouth.

As quickly as possible, Ms. Selina wet, washed, massaged and rinsed her child's hair, using the hose extension and plugging the girl's tiny ears as needed. Just as Miss Mattie realized what had been happening, it had passed. I had moved her to sit upright, supporting her back as her mother gently dried her hair with a smaller towel.

"There, kiddo, see? It wasn't so bad," Ms. Selina had grinned at her daughter before picking her up. Looking to me, she had added, "Thank you, Alfred, so much."

"My pleasure. Is there anything else?"

She had sighed before replying, "No… hopefully she'll sleep good tonight. Her tooth didn't seem to bother her as much today."

"We can only hope."

I had left mother and daughter in order to return to the ground floor, performing a final inspection of the kitchen and dining room. Since Miss Mattie was working her way from relying on formula and pureed food to small pieces of solid food, cleanup took a bit longer. Master Dick had once pointed out that we needed a dog to help clean up the scraps Miss Mattie dropped from her high chair.

The harsh look that had crossed my face had been matched by the one that took over Master Bruce's.

With everything in order, I had then trekked to the study, giving myself a moment to look over the massive oil paining above the mantle before moving to the grandfather clock. Although I had gone to the Cave nearly every night during Master Bruce's recovery, it had felt different of late. After so long, it was Master Bruce behind the computer or toiling in the laboratory or testing physical limitations in the training bay.

It was Master Bruce wearing the cowl.

I had crossed the main floor, making note that I had yet to restock the medical area from the previous night and that I finally had the training bay available for a good cleaning. Master Bruce had already donned his evening wear, cowl firmly in place along with the seemingly necessary scowl. As I had approached, I heard Ms. Barbara over the speakers telling her former mentor, "Be careful."

Unnecessary, I had announced myself with, "Wise words, sir, perhaps wise enough to adhere to."

He had looked me over, seemingly uncertain as to what to say. Finally, he had settled with, "How are they?"

"Miss Mattie has been bathed and is being put to bed as we speak."

Again, he hesitated, "Good… Tell her… I'll call later."

I had nodded, "Very good, sir."

Without another word, he had walked by me, leaping down the short steps leading to the garage floor. I had watched on as he unlocked the vehicle out in the open, jumping in and taking off in a matter of seconds. Alone at last, I had tended to the necessary tasks in the Cave, making sure the medical bay was amply equipped for another night of injuries. From there, I had mopped and disinfected the training bay mats and weight equipment, leaving it ready for the another day of torture.

Leaving the auxiliary lights on, I had climbed back upstairs, promising myself to take the elevator when I finally retired for the evening. Closing the entrance, the clock had righted itself to the actual time, putting it at twenty past eleven.

"Oh dear," I had uttered softly.

Making a final tour of the house had yielded that I was not the only soul awake. Ms, Selina, baby monitor in hand, sat in the informal den, the television glowing quietly. Without looking, she had explained, "It's all over the news, Alfred."

That it was.

"Following the violent events of last night, escaped inmate Harvey Dent is suspected of killing Gotham District Attorney Darrel Sturgis and his wife Charla in their Stockton home. In addition, an unidentified police officer has informed us that Dent has also kidnapped the Sturgis' two young children, Darnell and Mabey. And… this coming in, it is being reported now that Dent is also responsible for the kidnapping of a county judge. There is no word as to whether or not a ransom has been issued…"

"Those poor children," Ms. Selina hugged a small throw pillow close to her chest.

Before I could comment, the reporter gave the broadcast to a colleague on the scene, morbidly standing near the coroner's van, "Kristi Parker reporting her live at the home of District Attorney Darrel Sturgis. Speaking with witnesses here, we are to believe that there may be some vigilante efforts in this double homicide. An unnamed source here has reported that the entire house was cleared out for approximately six minutes, this included forensics, detectives and coroner."

It was then that Commissioner Gordon came into view, spotting the cameras in time to shake his head and mutter a curse under his breath. Ms. Parker promptly hurled a barrage of questions, of which he seemed to ignore. All he offered was, "We have our very best from the Special Crimes Unit and the police forensics working these cases."

"What about the kidnapping of the Sturgis children and Judge Harding."

He offered another vague answer, "I am not discussing these investigations with the press. If anyone has any viable information about these incidents or of the whereabouts of Harvey Dent, they are encouraged to contact Special Crimes on the hotline." Commissioner Gordon managed to evade them, ducking behind a large police officer before dashing to his car.

Ms. Selina and I remained quiet for the remainder of the news broadcast, both silently willing Master Bruce to find justice that night.

^V^