Title: One And Only: V

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

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

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: The zoo trip was mostly conjured by Chris, whom I owe just about all of my motivation to. A million thanks!!!

A/N 3: the case Dick takes on at the end of the chapter and then carries on through the rest of the story is based on one seen in David Simon's "Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets" as well as the basis for a few of the characters seen in the Bludhaven Homicide Unit.

V

"You ever think about growing a moustache, Grayson?"

Trey and I had been walking the faded green hall towards interrogation. While stirring my coffee, I shrugged my shoulders, "Not really, why do you ask?"

He went about straightening his tie and unbuttoning his blazer, "Well, all good detectives have a moustache. And, hell, you've got to be one of the good ones, right?"

At that, I smiled, "Think I'd look good with one?"

He said he didn't swing that way and then asked, "Hey, you want help with this perp?"

The perp was none other than Carl "The Rammer" Ramono, a long time pain in the backside for Bludhaven. For the last year or so he had been a hired enforcer and protector of one of the city's lesser-known mobsters who had finally hit it big in the drug trafficking business. Unfortunately, where Carl was the best in the brute force department, he had never been high up in the smarts. He had been found by police at the scene of a double homicide, where not only one of his current employer's rivals had been slain, but his current employer as well.

I told Trey he could sit in but that I would handle the questioning. The disappointment he had washed over his face but instead of his usual complaining about not being treated fairly, he agreed and even opened the door for me.

We were in Room Five, one of twelve ten foot-by-ten foot cells furnished with ancient card tables and less than desirable folding chairs. In one of the three chairs, slouched a handcuffed, blood-spattered Carl, who almost appeared to be sleeping. An officer had been standing just outside the door and as we passed through, he nodded, "Detective."

When I looked over at him, I smiled and reached for his hand, "Charlie Drexler."

"Dick Grayson," he replied as he pumped my hand with the same iron grip he had delivered on our first day at the Academy. I recalled many morning runs and late nights on the shooting range with him. We had always joked how someday we would be the old cops on the beat, roughing up kids loitering in front of the corner drug store. Nearly eight years later, I was working my way through homicide and he had failed the sergeant's test twice.

We shared a few pleasantries before he put his hat back on his head, "Well, I better get going. "Nice seeing you. Good luck with this one," he chuckled.

"Thanks, I'll need it," I replied and shut the door after he left. Trey had already pulled a chair away from the table and had sat at an angle to Carl. The second chair, the one left for me, was directly across from the suspect. After setting my coffee down, I pulled it away from the table slightly and then sat, "Good evening."

He nodded and when I locked eyes with him, he mumbled, "Evenin'."

"Definitely not a good one is it? Guess I phrased that wrong," I spoke quietly as I opened the manila folder I had brought in with me. On the top was a printed version of the state's Miranda rights with a spot on the bottom for the suspect's signature and the interrogating detective's name as well. I set it on the table and pushed it over to his side and waited for some sort of reaction.

His stubble-clad face twisted in a look of fatigue mixed with acceptance. My favorite face on a suspect, besides wailing pleas for forgiveness. "Now, I know you already have your rights memorized, but by law, I am required to make sure that you are read and that you understand them. Are we clear on that, Carl?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah. I got it."

We worked our way through each one, and after I read them, I made him read them as well. Once everything was legal, we both signed at the bottom and I dated it before returning it to the file. "Well, now that's out of the way..."

"I'm not in the way of nothing," Carl mumbled.

"Excuse me?" I asked for clarification as to what nothing entailed.

"Nothing."

I heard Trey snicker slightly and I through a glare at him. He hid behind his coffee cup. When I looked back at Carl, I asked, "Would you like to explain to me, exactly, what happened at the Dayview Apartments this evening at the hour of eight p.m.?"

"Yeah I was there."

I nodded, "Right, I think that's been established. What were you doing there."

"A job for Mr. J."

A vision of the Joker flashed in the back of my head, even though I knew his employer was named Jones, not Joker. Suppressing my smile, I continued, "And by Mr. J, you are referring to your late employer, one Horace P. Jones, a notorious criminal in the city of Bludhaven."

He nodded and licked his lower lip, "Yep, that's him. Mr. J."

"And what did this job include? What did he ask you to do, Carl?"

"He said to kill Clayborne."

"Clayborne, Joshua Louis. Also now deceased."

"Yeah, cause I did my job."

To allow for a pause, I sighed and clicked the top of my pen a few times and scrawled a note on a blank sheet of legal pad. Carl strained to see what I had written but when I looked up, he glanced back down at his hands.

Before I spoke again, he shrugged, "But Clayborne, he asked me to do Mr. J in for him."

Was it just me or were criminals just getting dumber and dumber?

An hour later, after the story had been retold three times, a confession had been written and signed and Carl had been lead away by a pair of uniforms to lock-up. Trey was following me back down the hall, "I can't believe it. Stupid bastard confessing to a double homicide like that. Wish they were all that easy..."

I shook my head and tossed my empty coffee cup into a waste nestled underneath a water fountain that not even the mice dared to drink from. Just upon entering the main lair of homicide, I paused at the left hand wall and smiled. On a large tack board, lists of all the homicide detectives, their cases, and the squad leaders were posted for all to see. Originally, the Board had been designed in order to better depict the most current solve rates of any aspect of the division at any given time. It was interesting how quickly consideration had evolved into competition, with each shift doing its best to show up the others. When I found my name and glanced at all of the black lettered cases beside my name, I grinned.

Red indicated a case that was open or unsolved. Black represented a solved and closed case. Of the six detectives on my shift, I had the highest rate for the month, ten for ten, including Carl's mistake of killing his boss and his boss's enemy.

"Cha-ching, boy. Damn, you're making us old-timer's look bad."

I turned to see Grant Morris, forty-ish and graying, intelligent yet bearish in his manners. He was of my favorite detectives to work a case with, not only because he could hold meaningful conversation, he had one of the sharpest analytical minds that I had seen outside of the FBI or the Bat-Clan. I offered a stone face and said, "Well, I figured I been making you old timer's look bad for some time now, given my devilish good looks, might as well kick your ass in crime solving while I'm at it."

He chuckled a bit and was about to speak when the phone rang. With the best mood in the room, I stepped towards it and answered, "Bludhaven Homicide, Detective Grayson speaking?"

"Ah, Detective Grayson, this is Steve at dispatch, we just got a call in from ReRun Sports Wear on Harrington and 12th. Manager called it in, victim assaulted the cashier with a .38, cashier assaulted back with a driving wedge. Went a little overboard."

"Hmm, seem to be solving themselves today," I commented as I copied down the address on my note pad.

"It's going to be that kind of day, sir."

V

"Good morning, Sir, Madam."

Although I had been in the room for just under a full minute and had greeted them rather loudly, neither of the slumbering forms moved beneath the covers. To further encourage their waking, I drew back the curtains on the far windows, letting in a brilliant flood of sunlight. For early October, the weather had been fairly mild, despite the continuous changing of the leaves. Miss Mattie had already begun her leaf collection for the year, taking in a wide spectrum of colors and shapes to keep in a shoebox on her dresser.

She claimed that aside from my fudge brownies the only aroma that could come close would be that of dried leaves.

Master Bruce finally grumbled something and sat up on the bed. Before I could greet him once more, Miss Mattie trotted into the room, already dressed for the day, "It's today!" she cried out before attacking her father with a mighty embrace. He patted her back, wished her a good morning and then did his best to free himself from her grasp.

As she crawled over him and onto her mother's still horizontal form, Master Bruce rose slowly and took an awkward step before reaching for his robe and moving onto the bathroom. I was about to ask what he desired for breakfast when he turned back, "Mattie can pick breakfast, Alfred."

"Very well, sir," I nodded and watched as he shut the door behind him. After turning back to the bed, I noticed that Miss Mattie had already gotten off and was approaching me, "And what would you wish for breakfast, young lady?"

She grinned, "Ostrich eggs."

"My word, that would be quite a feast. Perhaps something lighter would be more suitable a meal."

A soft pout came to her lips of which was replaced with a soft smile, "I guess regular eggs would be okay."

In order to allow her parents to ready themselves for the day in peace, I guided the exuberant child out of the room, shutting the doors after we had passed through. In less than an hour, she and her father were to embark on the very first official school field trip, one of many I feared. Master Bruce had at first been wary of his daughter's involvement, more so because he was unsure of the safety his child would face while visiting the zoo under the supervision of others. After all, he himself was a prominent figure in society and there was no telling what sort of corporate heathens would be lurking to snatch the young lady from the giraffe exhibit.

It was from this fear that he volunteered to act as a chaperone to the event, ensuring not only his child's safety but that of her new found friends. According the final organizational meeting that had taken place the night before last, Master Bruce was to be one of five parent chaperones in addition to the teacher and her aide. Twenty children and eight adults were to navigate the Gotham Zoo in four hours, including a tour of the newly renovated dolphin exhibit as well as a round or two through the "Live Interaction" area where the children would be able to feed and lavish goats, sheep, deer and other small furry creatures.

A joyous day for the children. A living nightmare for the adults.

Master Bruce had been exuding an uncanny certainty that he would surely be able to handle any possible scenario that could arise. In fact, he was almost a little too sure of his capabilities. I had made several attempts in the last week to speak with him about my concerns, but his schedule had been fairly busy of late, involving both day and night activities. Finally, I had been able to speak with Ms. Selina and she too felt the same way. However, she was far too amused by his self-assurance that she was letting it slide for the time being. And she had labored at length that, "Nothing will convince Bruce faster not to inquire as to if we should have more children than him spending a day with more than a dozen of them."

Once we had entered the kitchen, I assigned Miss Mattie the task of feeding the four-footed members of the family while I went about preparing for breakfast. Master Bruce, once more adopting a rigorous diet, was currently eating two cups of plain yogurt, a slice of wheat toast, with no dressings, and as always, a large serving of black coffee. Ms. Selina had taken to a similar meal plan, although slightly altered. A cup of yogurt topped with colored sprinkles, a peanut butter dressed bagel as well as one of many flavored coffees she had ordered from Boston, mixed with a spoonful of cream. And their child of course would plead for waffles whenever she could muster.

While toasting bread and Ms. Selina's bagel, the young girl returned from feeding the cats, both of which were devouring their meal without mercy. She retrieved a small stool from under the cupboard under the sink and set it as close to the sink as possible. I watched on as she carefully stepped up onto it and proceeded to wash her hands. As she spread sudsy froth all over the stainless steel sink, she asked, "Alfred, did you make Dad a lunch too?"

After allowing myself a quick smile, I nodded, "I did so. However, we must remind him to take it with him."

"Yep. If he forgot it, he'd be pretty hungry later."

She rinsed thoroughly, did her best to get the bubbles to flow down the drain and then stepped back onto the floor. She was about to wipe her hands on her pants when I stepped forward, offering a hand towel. She thanked me and wiped her hands quickly before handing it back and tending to put the stool away.

Not a minute later, both of her parents' voices could be heard in the hall outside the kitchen. Master Bruce's voice came through the all softly and lacking the grim tones he often expressed in the morning. In fact, I detected a hint of enthusiasm. I asked Miss Mattie to lead them to the nook and she did so, skipping out through the door.

As they seated themselves at the small table, I paused and then carried in a small tray with two cups of coffee and one small glass of orange juice. I set the beverages before their respected drinkers, I silently took in each of their moods. Master Bruce actually seemed to be fairly awake, as he asked his daughter, "So, do we have to take anyone in our car with us to the zoo?"

After setting her juice glass down, she shook her head, "Nope, we're not riding in the car dad."

"Oh?" he asked while retrieving the folded newspaper I had set out on the table earlier that morning.

It was as he skimmed the front page that she continued, "We get to ride on the school bus."

I had barely been able to hide my smirk and the repress my need to chuckle. Ms. Selina however let loose a full grin and did her best to hide it by calling over one of the cats that had followed me from the kitchen.

"Well, that sounds fun," Master Bruce commented as he returned his attention back to the newspaper.

As I made my way back to the kitchen to retrieve their meals, I allowed myself a smile. In all of his life, even as a child, Master Bruce had never had the luxury of spending any time on a school bus. When he was in school, his parents had driven him and after they had passed on, I had taken him to school. And naturally, the very second he had a driver's license, he refused my services and went on the open road on his own. The very thought of him, a grown man, being trapped on a bus full of children for the forty-five minute drive from Bristol to the Gotham Zoo was almost too good to be true.

While Ms. Selina went about making sure Miss Mattie had the necessities of life packed away in her backpack, Master Bruce came into the kitchen and opened one of the upper cupboard doors. After reaching inside, I watched out of the corner of my eye as he retrieved a small orange plastic vial and a still packaged inhaler. He might not be able to wear his trusted utility belt, but there was no excuse for him not be prepared for the worst.

As he checked the amount of tablets and inhalers left, I cleared my throat and went about wiping the countertop, "The weather is nearly perfect for the day."

He nodded slightly and shut the cupboard after pocketing the medicine, "I suppose."

"After all, "I continued, "If it were much warmer, then the children may have been inclined to be a bit cranky, so to speak."

With a face exuding confidence, he glanced at me briefly, acted as if he were going to reply, but in turn asked where the lunches were.

A crack in his armor.

I prayed the tiny tyrants did not spot it as easily as I had.

As I retrieved the bagged meals from the refrigerator, the ladies of the household made their entrance. The younger of the two skipped over to her father and asked quietly, "Are we leaving soon?"

He nodded at her, "Right now actually. Is everything set?" he asked looking up to his wife's face.

After her nod of approval he stepped closer to her and kissed her cheek, "We'll be back around six."

"Sure you will," she muttered before leaning down to say good-bye to her daughter, "Have fun, Mattie. Make sure Dad behaves himself."

"I will," she replied matter-of-factly. When the child turned to follow her father out the side entrance into the garage, "Bye Alfred!"

"Enjoy your outing, Miss Mattie."

From the open doorway, Ms. Selina and myself watched as Master Bruce belted the child in the back seat of a silver sedan and then as he seated himself in the front. After activating the garage door, he backed out flawlessly, turned around and made his way down the drive.

"He has no idea what he's gotten himself into," she spoke with a curious smile, "His own five-year-old, no sweat. But nineteen of her peers..."

There was little I could say at that moment. I, as a father figure, and his own wife had sent him into battle with no warning as to what was to come. As the Batman, he had faced moments of great pressure and chaos. As Bruce Wayne, a fraction so. I feared he would need both of his identities in order to survive the whining, pinching, running, and yelling chaos that was sure to come.

"God be with you, Master Bruce."

Ms. Selina sighed as well, "Amen," before we both let ourselves over to the laughter we had been bottling up for weeks.

V

"It lives," I smiled as I sat on the couch watching the tail end of Good Morning Gotham.

I watched as Cassandra, clad in blue flannel pants and a green tank top, tried to pat down her pillow-skewed hair. She had been catching up on the sleep she had lost over the last few months, as well as in spite of trying to get back into the swing of things.

She plopped on the couch next to me and suppressed a yawn before looking towards the kitchen. Before she could ask, I answered, "There are bagels in the bread box and frozen waffles in the fridge."

Cassandra nodded and then looked over at me, "So... Been up long?"

I shrugged and reached for the remote, turned the TV off and then said, "Since eight. Actually got to bed around three, Bruce called it quits a little after that, "I smiled, "Had to rest up for the field trip."

After moving on the couch, bringing her legs up and hugging them against her chest, she nodded, "The zoo. That all day long?"

"Yeah. Bruce should be pretty fried from it. It should be interesting if he even makes it until tonight." I paused a moment before reaching over and patting her arm, "Hey, where are those pictures you developed yesterday?"

"Selina has them, when I left the other day, she hadn't finished looking through them yet. I'm going back tomorrow, I'll get them for you."

I nodded and the said, "At least the weather was nice for you, I went to Paris in high school and it rained the whole week we were there. Did you have a lot of free time?" I asked. We hadn't been able to talk much since she had gotten home, our schedules both keeping us fairly busy. Therefore, I wasn't about to let our apparently free morning be put to waste.

"Not much. Kept pretty busy with Henri and the dojo. Went to the Louvre once."

"Did you like it?"

She shrugged, "I guess. Stood in line a lot, paintings were nice."

I paused and then smiled softly, "Well, at least you had fun with Henri."

That elicited a near invisible change in her posture, her fatigue and boredom being shadowed by a hint of happiness. We had talked on and off through the summer and each time she was eager to share what new things she had learned form the French manhunter. I was almost tempted to call him up myself to see if he was as impressed by her as she was of him. Cassandra, in her short career in crime fighting, had now encountered two of the best in their fields that had also taught a young Bruce Wayne: Henri Ducard and Lady Shiva.

Both interactions she had come out alive and better for it.

Cassandra replied, "Yeah. He's a good teacher. Said he was pleased to see another protégé seek him out. You ever meet him?"

"Only through what Bruce has told me, and now you. Seems like an interesting enough character," I moved off of the couch and into my chair, "Well, what kind of girl talk is this, we need some guilty pleasure food."

She followed me into the kitchen and helped prepare breakfast. Usually, she would fend for herself or gladly take whatever meals I prepared for us, but rarely had she and I been involved in mass production of frozen waffles. I don't know if it was the time away from Gotham or even from Batgirl, but she seemed much more mature, and almost at peace with herself. Like she could take anything on and have no problem coming out victorious.

A half hour later, over waffles and milkshakes, she asked, "So, what's with you and him?"

"Him?"

She rolled her eyes and slurped the rest of her milkshake, "Detective... Boy Wonder."

I gnawed on my lower lip briefly and then "I guess okay. We've at least talked to each other a few times. Without resorting to violence, I might add," I paused and looked over at her, "So, Miss Social Bunny, what about you?"

Her eyes widened, "Me?" I nodded slowly before she answered, "Nothing, no time."

"Ha, that's a lie," even though it was a stretch and hardly my place to say it, I did, "You know Tim's not seeing anyone now. As far as I know anyway."

She stood and put her dishes in the sink, rinsed them thoroughly and then after wiping her hands on a towel, she replied, "So, what does that have to do with me?"

I shrugged and brought my dishes over as well, "All I'm saying is he has a lot of free time, I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you, that is if you could manage some free time in your busy schedule."

With an embarrassed scowl on her face, Cassandra walked by me and out of the room. I followed and called out her name but she kept going, reached her room and slammed the door after her.

I went back to the kitchen and picked up from breakfast. Perhaps I had pushed it with her, but it was so hard to tell where the line was and when not to cross it. She had such a terrible youth and her adolescence could hardly be counted as normal. Even after talking with her extensively, she had refused to go beyond taking her General Equivalency Diploma exam and a few college courses online. After talking with Bruce, he felt that her interests lay elsewhere and that she should peruse them. Hence the arrangements he made for her jaunt around Europe.

I went about cleaning the apartment for the rest of the afternoon. After several "Trading Spaces" marathons, I had finally decided to redo the entire place. That and I had been bored to tears by living alone again. I had gone for the pure look of white: walls, carpeting and even the furniture. Perhaps I had gone too far, but it looked amazing, especially in light of my freakish cleaning habits. I even made the boys wipe their feet before coming in.

Just as I was vacuuming the rugs, Cass appeared again, dressed in spandex. She tried to talk over the noise but instead pointed down the hall towards the enclosed training room. I gave her the okay sign and went back to work.

It was almost scary how much her determination reminded me of Bruce.

And it scared me even more that if nothing was done, in a few years it would be Batgirl with Cassandra Cain as the alter ego, just as it was with Batman.

If nothing was done...

V

It began as we left the garage.

Selina and Alfred had been staring at me, sly smiles on their faces as I backed out and then turned to drive off. Then Alfred had spoken softly, and they had erupted in laughter. Odd, I thought, what could they have possibly found to be so funny.

Then, it continued at the school parking lot.

We had parked amidst several dozen station wagons, mini-vans and SUVs, all strangely similar hues of blue and green. Mattie was unbuckled and out of the car in a flash, her back pack bouncing as she jumped around to my side of the car. I stepped out and locked up before smoothing out my shirt and pocketing my keys. Mattie was at my side, pulling at my arm, "Dad, let's go!"

I told her we weren't late and allowed her to lead me over to the Bristol City School District bus parked in front of the main entrance to the elementary school. I heard them long before they came into view. Looking through the tinted windows, I spotted over a dozen small faces pressed against the glass, sticking their tongues out and making a wide variety of grotesque faces at one another and myself, all the while a dull roar of squeals and laughter erupting from the yellow bus. Mattie waved at them energetically and then lead me around the front of the bus. Several parents, those not involved with chaperoning the trip, were checking in with the teacher and handing over white envelopes labeled with names of children and dollar amounts. Interesting. Perhaps spending money for the trip.

As we came over, Mattie's teacher's assistant, Ms. Kallie, grinned, "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you made it. Hi Mattie, are you ready to go to the zoo?"

She nodded exuberantly and let go of my hand. I reached for it before she got far and heard her sigh as I pulled her back. I looked down at the clipboard Ms. Kallie was holding and recognized a written out seating chart. "So, where would you like us?"

She glanced at the chart and pointed to two seats labeled "WAYNE" in the third and fourth to last rows on the right side of the bus. I nodded and said, "Okay" and then followed my daughter in through the side door and up the three narrow steps. Nearly every seat was filled, one child per seat, with several chaperones placed strategically throughout. Mattie waved to a few of the girls that cried out her name and said, "This is my dad." While we managed our way through the row between the seats, barely wide enough for a child let alone a man of my size, I caught the other chaperones watching me carefully. I nodded at a few and offered an unheard "good morning" as their badly shadowed eyes stared at me.

Selina had joked from the start that I was going to be the only male adult on the trip and that I had to promise not to try and let any of the bored housewives seduce me, and vice versa. At first I found no humor of it, but as I notice their stares traveling up and down my body, I told Mattie to hurry up so we could take our seats.

Our presence had also affected the children. Most of the young girls had been taken by the fact that their friend had arrived but the young boys looked at my in what I could only describe as disgust. Despite the fact that the noise was near unbearable, I distinctly over heard an "I thought Mrs. W was coming... He'll be boring."

I wanted to search the bus for the perp but Mattie had declared that she wanted an the further back seat so she could talk to Katrina, who was in the row behind her. I relented and took the seat that was cater-cornered to a red-haired chaperone sporting an ankle length khaki skirt and a slate blue blouse. She glanced back at me, blushed and then looked away. I leaned forward in my seat, "Hi, Bruce Wayne."

"I know," she said as she turned to face me, "Emily Buckhout, I'm Janet's mom."

"Ah," I said, with no clue who Janet was. I offered my hand, she paused and then finally decided to shake it. "So, is everyone here?"

She nodded, "Yeah I think so, Sara and Kallie will be getting on once all the parents hand over their kids' lunch money."

My eyes grew and I muttered, "Oh, no."

"What?" she asked.

I looked back at the car and spotted the two lunch bags in the front passenger seat. I almost cursed, but chose not to in light of present company. Emily looked over as well and shrugged, "That's okay, they have a restaurant at the zoo."

After I said, "Right," and nodded to myself I noticed as the teacher and her aide climbed aboard and reminded everyone to be quiet and that there were to be no pushing each other's head's out the windows.

From there, it became clear that they obviously did not screen the drivers of buses for ability to operate a motor vehicle of any type. The man in the driver's seat, who had not been on when I had boarded the bus, shifted poorly, slammed on the breaks at stop signs and floored the accelerator around sharp turns. But shortly after I realized that we very well may crash and die long before reaching the zoo, I soon became aware of the fact that my eardrums and quite possibly my brain may implode even before a car accident.

The quiet the teacher had asked for had lasted all of five seconds, and then once in motion, the noise had increased so to conquer the growl of the bus's diesel engine. After our first turn out of the parking lot, I looked back at Mattie and told her to put her seat belt on.

She rolled her eyes, a characteristic from her mother, and said that there weren't any. And as I looked throughout my seat, I realized the same as well. So for the forty-nine minutes we were at the mercy of the driver and fighting and screaming of the children, there was no means of protection. Shouldn't the kids be sitting quietly, looking out the windows and admiring the city infrastructure as they're driving over it?

But it didn't stop there.

Upon arriving at the main entrance of the zoo, each chaperone was paired with another were assigned eight kids and were then handed over that child's money envelope. There was also a list of activities and maps of the zoo, not to mention the emergency contact numbers of said children as well as the teachers in charge of the trip. I did not end up with Emily, but rather a thirty-year-old mother named Janice who confessed "I had this huge thing for you back in college."

We were to be in charge of Mattie, Katrina, David, Paul, Alexis, Karen, Samuel and James. Four boys, four girls, everyone having a "buddy" of whom they were not to lose sight of. Before I had even had the chance to memorize each of their faces, they ran off towards the llama petting exhibit. I called after them and began to trot to keep up but Janice, my accompanying chaperone laughed, "Oh, don't bother, you'll never keep up with them."

Of the three hundred and seventeen animals at the zoo, we had breezed by about three hundred by noon, the kids squealing at the scary ones and cooing over the cute ones. I had to physically pry Samuel off of the fence of the bear exhibit twice in less than five minutes, just because he wanted to ask him if he knew Yogi. Janice had hardly been of any assistance and spent most of the time on her cell phone and doing her best not to keep up with the group.

Whether it was exhaustion from acting insane or the fact that lunch was approaching, I managed to corral the eight members of my group around the wolf exhibit. They all started howling off tune and one of the slumbering wolves looked up from his nap and grumbled before laying back down. After they quieted, I asked, "So who can tell me the genus and species of the timber wolf?"

"A pee-cees?" Karen asked.

Alexis, a curly haired child with a deafeningly high scream, interrupted, "Reeses Pieces! Can we feed them now? I want to feed the wolf!"

I sighed and restated for the millionth time that we were not employed at the zoo so we weren't allowed to feed them. It was unreal, how little education they actually received in kindergarten. Honestly, what was finger painting compared to being able to define the ecosystems that animals habited? As the kids began complaining that they were hungry, Janice stepped into and saved the day, "How about we go eat some lunch, guys?"

They erupted in joyous cries of approval and declared how "cooler" Janice was compared to me. She told them, "All right, well we have to be real quiet so that the animals don't find out we're eating and they're not, we wouldn't want Yogi the bear to come steal our lunch would we?"

Eight heads shook in unison.

I watched in disbelief as the herd of children moved around her and traveled down the brick paved path towards the dining and recreation area of the zoo, all holding the hands of their buddies and actually behaving themselves. The woman had blatantly exaggerated, used a cartoon character as if he we one of the bears locked in the exhibit and had won their trust?

I noticed Mattie was with the group, talking with Katrina, a girl two months older and one inch shorter than my daughter. They had been best friends since before school had even started and I was already fearing slumber parties and birthday sleepovers. I was surprised to see Mattie turn and jog back to me. After she paused in front of me, she motioned me to bend down and come closer. I knelt before and she whispered into my ear, "You're still cool to me, Dad."

With that, she kissed my cheek and then ran back to her group.

When I reached to food pavilion, I scanned about for the restaurant Emily had mentioned on the bus. What I saw were three things, none of which could possibly be safe eateries: a hotdog cart, an ill tended make your own sundae bar and last but certainly not least, the golden arches of McDonald's. Janice must have already distributed the lunch money for I spotted several members of my group already stuffing their faces with greasy fries and dripping hamburgers.

Mattie was sitting at a patio table with a mass of her "girls" as Selina had dubbed them. When she spotted me, she came up and asked "Ca I get one of those?" as she pointed to a cardboard box toting James. A Happy Meal. A Happy Heart Attack Meal.

I ushered her over to the line that was quickly working its way to the cash register. The menu was terrifying, with far too many calories and saturated fats per a meal than I would ever imagine. Finally, I spotted a few salads listed and hoped they weren't all out. When my turn came up, a new register opened and was being manned by a squat, heavyset gentleman dressed in a dark polo and stained khakis. A pin on his shirt read: Jim, Manager.

When I approached, he asked, "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, actually. I was wondering if I could have two fresh house salads, dress one with vinegar and touch of oil and the other with," to Mattie, "What do you want, kitten?"

She sighed, mumbled incoherently and then replied, "Itlaian."

I looked back at Jim and finished, "The other with Italian."

"We don't have any salads."

"Excuse me?"

He repeated himself laboriously and spoke in a demeaning tone that snitches often took with me. That was before I held them over a ledge fourteen stories above Grand Street. I asked if there were any soups of any kind and he sighed, "Let me guess... You want one of those healthy McMeals.... We don't have them here. No takers... Kids don't want them... And besides, adults want comfort food if they're dragged here. So order off the value meal like everyone else so everyone else can actually get up here and order."

Twelve dollars later, Mattie and I were at the sole, empty picnic table. She had ordered like a pro, the chicken nugget Happy Meal, sweet and sour sauce but I had insisted on ice water. I know of several instances where Dick had taken her out to fast food restaurants, mainly because of the toys she brought back after an afternoon with him.

I had chosen the least intense meal, a hamburger with no toppings and a cup of water as well. The fires had come with the meal but after being able to count the salt crystals, I decided they were better off left in the bag. I was just about to try the sandwich when I heard an uproar of delightful giggles. And to my absolute horror, I spotted a tall, red wigged individual in a yellow jumpsuit with big, floppy shoes.

Ronald McDonald. A clown.

Mattie jumped up and ran over and when I told her she had to finish her lunch she replied that she had. And when I looked, she had been right, all four chicken bites and every scrap of salty fry were gone.

Surprisingly, I wasn't alone for long. Three of the chaperones who had been at a neighboring table sauntered over, one of which had been Emily. She asked, "Mind if we join you?"

I smiled weakly, "It's a free picnic table."

They giggled softly and took the seats opposite of me where Mattie had left her wrappers. I moved quickly and put all of it in the bag with my fries and apologized with a shrug and "Kids."

Emily sat between the other two, the blonde to her right was Veronica, one of Mattie's fellow soccer teammate's mother, and the one to her left was younger woman with a heedful of brown ringlets that I had never met. I introduced myself and she half-smiled, "Nancy."

"Nice to meet you Nancy. So," I tried to make small talk, not something easily done, "How is everyone else's' groups doing?"

"Ha, what a kidder," Nancy snorted as she retrieved her purse. "Just grand. I love these trips."

"Me too," Veronica grinned at me, "Great time to relax. Spend quality time with the kids..."

I watched as Nancy pulled out a silver flask from her purse, "And let's not forget Captain Morgan."

The three women each took sizable swallows from the flask and when it was offered to me, I shook my head, "Uh, no thanks."

"Alcoholic?" Emily asked.

I was taken aback and after a quick breath I stuttered, "N-no, just I think I need all the wits I can manage to finish off the day."

They laughed in unison, looking at one another and then at me. Emily spoke up, "You're so nice... you should come to more of the PTA meetings, Selina too."

I nodded slightly and pushed my hamburger away, "Yeah, well work keeps me pretty busy."

"At least it's the truth with you," Veronica sighed, "My Harry comes home from work and lands himself right on the couch, and that's where he stays until dinner and then it's right back to TV."

Emily nodded, "Pete's like that too. He used to coach little league but he doesn't even have the oomph to do that anymore."

I listened in as the trio of women went on about how aggravating their husbands were, how they wouldn't listen like I did, how they wouldn't get involved with their kids like I did, and they sure as hell didn't take care of themselves as I did. Although one of the most awkward conversations I had ever had in my life, it was my only alternative to the clown. And I would take disgruntled wives over sadistic clowns any day of the week.

V

"Ah, look what the kitten dragged in," I grinned as I walked towards the main door.

Mattie, her face painted like a leopard, had her hands wrapped around Bruce's neck as he somehow managed to carry her, her backpack and two stuffed animals. I smiled to see one was a snow leopard and the other was a tiger. That's my girl, I thought, as I walked over to them.

After Bruce shut the door with his foot, he looked over at me and it was the first time I realized the exhausted look plastered over his face. Where he had left earlier that morning, bold and confident, he had most certainly returned to me a broken man. I took Mattie's belongings and told him to come upstairs with her. He nodded slowly and shuffled after me up the stairs, not even uttering a sound.

After setting her on the bed, I took his hand and lead him down the hall to our room. He headed straight for bed, collapsed in a heap. After I shut the door, I smiled as I walked over to him, "That bad?"

He had landed face down into the blankets and mumbled into the bedspread. I reclined next to him and rubbed his back, "What was that, sweetie?"

Carefully, he turned his head to face me and spoke, "Terrible."

"Oh, my poor baby," I chided with him before moving closer and wrapping my arm around his neck. He shifted and pressed his face into the crook of my neck. Having known this was coming all along, I asked, "Did the other kids pick on you?"

Bruce nodded, "Said I wasn't cool."

"I'm sorry," I kissed his cheek, "What else happened?"

He relented his tales of woe to me, recounting the day's events and how one tragedy lead to another. How the other chaperones had flirted with him, how none of the kids had liked him, how he had left his lunch in the car, and quite possibly the worst of all, the ride home with twenty tired and cranky kids and the maniacal bus driver's inability to follow basic traffic laws. And how despite all of the chaos and insanity, once they had returned to the school, the teachers congratulated all of the children for their good behavior.

"Good behavior, Selina."

"I heard you, Bruce."

"They were arsonists and felons in the making."

"I'm sure they were, Bruce."

He paused, then spoke once more, "And I didn't even get lunch."

I rubbed his back once more and then whispered in his ear, "I'll get you something to eat. Why don't you take a nice, long bath?"

"Can't move," he replied.

"Yes you can," I sat up and slapped his thigh, "You can at least change, I don't want all those zoo germs in my bed."

He moaned to himself as I got up and went to check in on Mattie. She was sitting up in bed and yawning and rubbing her eyes. I walked in and said, "Hey there, Mattie. Did you have fun?" She nodded and then quickly got up and walked over to me. I picked her up and hugged her, "I love your new face."

Mattie smiled, "It's paint, Mom. But isn't it pretty?"

"Very."

She touched her cheek carefully as to not disturb the spots or whiskers painted on her skin. Then she sighed, "I don't think Dad had a good time."

"No?" I asked, "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged and touched my hair, "I don't know. He wasn't very happy."

I set her back down on the floor and said, "Well, not many things make him happy. Why don't you go in there and cheer him up?"

After a curt nod, she skipped out into the hall and went towards our bedroom. I followed her steps and leaned against the door jam as she climbed on him and asked if he was okay. He mumbled something that might have been an answer but remained motionless. Knowing he was going to be rather difficult for the rest of the night, I walked over to the bad and sat beside him once more. Mattie, who had taken to sitting on his back, looked over at me, "See, not happy."

As a pout came to her face, accented by the cat markings, I told her to get washed up and ready for dinner. She asked, "Do I have to wash my face?"

I told her just around her mouth for now and that's we wash it off later when she had a bath. After a longing look at her father, Mattie rolled off of the bed and trudged back to her room. His eyes were closed, but too tightly, indicating that he wasn't asleep but instead pretending to. "Are you at least going to shower?"

He grumbled softly. When he repeated it after I asked him to, it sounded like, "Sponge bath."

Although reveling in his pain and misery was a favorite of mine, I decided to show pity on him for a change. I picked out a pair of flannel pants from the dresser, conned him into changing and promised to come up later with something to eat. Then, I tucked him into bed and kissed his cheek before leaving the room. At the door, I heard a faint request for me to leave it ajar.

Poor baby.

After dinner and dessert, of which Mattie and I shared a bowl of ice cream in the den, I told her to head to her room to pick out pajamas and something to wear for the next day. On my way to our room, Alfred came over the top step of the stairway and spoke, "Madam, Ms. Gordon is calling for Master Bruce, in question as to whether or not he intends to 'suit up' or not." In his right hand he held the white portable phone from the library.

I walked over and took it from him, "Thanks Alfred."

"And if there won't be anything else..."

After shaking my head I leaned and pecked his cheek, "I think we'll manage. Good night."

"Good night, madam."

After watching him head down the stairs, I continued to my bedroom and peered in before answering the phone, "Barb?"

"Hi, how did the great initiative field trip go?"

"Excellent, I don't think I've seen Mattie this happy in a long time."

I waited for her to ask the inevitable question, "How did Bruce take it?"

I walked into the room and turned on the bedside lamp before sitting next to Bruce's still form. He was on his side facing away from me, completely buried beneath the covers. "Well, I think he learned something today... Perhaps from the camels."

"What, how to spit?"

With a soft smile, I replied, "No, that when scared for your life, bury your head in the sand and hope for the best."

She laughed loudly, "Poor guy. So I take it as a negative that the big bad Bat will be gracing his presence all over the city tonight?"

"Barbara, I think we'll be lucky if he ever leaves this house again. You should have seen him come through the door tonight. It was if all of his strength and power had been sucked out of him, and all that was left was a fragile shell, just waiting for the next spitball to hit him."

He mumbled into the pillows, "No running.... And it's species.... Not Reeses..."

V

"Oh, that's too funny, Barbara," I chuckled into the phone.

Since I was the nice guy that I was, I had pulled a double shift in order to cover for one of the detectives in the third shift. Unfortunately, my good deed had shut out any possibility of showing myself as Nightwing for the night.

Since most of the night's activities had been bland, if not dull, Barbara's six a.m. call had been an uplifting event for me. Mattie's first field trip had turned out as expected: with Mattie wanting to ride the bus to school all the time and Bruce adding all district bus drivers to his list of future criminals to keep an eye out for.

As I leaned back in my chair, I sighed, "You know, he never had time for any of my field trips. Always had to go to work or golfing with the Mayor. Hell, even Alfred couldn't go on any of them."

Barbara replied, "Well, that may be true Dick, but look on the bright side. How many kids at Bristol Middle School knew the best way to disarm multiple suspects with their arms tied behind their backs and with a blindfold on?"

"True. Even still, he could've come to the chocolate factory trip...." I grumbled.

I heard a tone come over the phone and told her I had another call. She signed off with, "Fine, be productive, see if I care."

After selecting the other line, I jotted down the basics from dispatch: dead body reported in the alley behind 1013 Wellington Avenue. So much for thoroughness. With Trey long gone, I paired up with Detective Charles Camden and let him drive us out to the scene. It had been raining for a vast majority of the week but the last two days had been especially cold, even for mid-October. Camden joked how we were probably going to catch cold that night, all over some boozehound laid out in the alley.

If only...

The first thing my eyes detected as we pulled up to the taped off scene was red. A bright red rain slicker on a small body, some sort of vinyl from the way it reflected the flashing lights of the black-and-whites. Sans umbrella, I walked closer, ducked under the tape after presenting my badge to the uniform on duty. It wouldn't be long before the locals came out to gawk at the d.b. And even after that, the reporters and their cameramen, all hoping to catch a glimpse of death.

The red slicker did little in way of keeping out the cold rain. As she laid out on the pavement, her head tilted to the right as she rested on her hip, legs bent and lying one over the other, the rain bore down on her just as it did to me. I flipped my collar up and crouched next to her, my eyes never leaving her face.

A dead body in the alley behind 1013 Wellington.

I had spent a vast majority of my life looking at dead bodies, far too many if you asked me, but for some reason, I simply couldn't look away. Her cheeks were full, her skin dark and smooth. The braid in her hair with thick, each ending in brightly colored barrettes. Beneath the raincoat, she wore a green turtleneck over faded jeans, all of it soaked through to the skin.

"Grayson?" I looked up to see Camden standing behind me, "They need to get some more shots of her."

"Right," I nodded and stood before moving out of camera range. The flash came in slow motion, highlighting every feature about her, but doing little to blot out the cold, gray morning air of the alley. It was from above, I saw the whole picture. A book bag was mere inches from her, bulky and made of dark denim. Two buttons were on the front of it: "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and one with a Wonder Woman insignia on it.

As the photographer used up the rest of his film, I took mental pictures of the immediate area. Somewhat secluded, the overhead light well over two stories up, hardly any use with the sun buried beneath the clouds. Camden waited for the bag to photographed before picking it up with a gloved hand, "Damn things weighs a ton."

Inside, were two sodden books, one a fiction children's novel and the other was on dollhouses. In a zippered pocket, we found a few quarters, some gum and a small plastic cosmetic kit. And a library card.

Alicia Renee Wallach.

Eleven years old.

Never to be twelve.

As the rain continued to pelt down on us, and as it further destroyed whatever physical evidence there was, I couldn't feel much else besides the cold. We canvassed the alley a dozen times, finding litter and stray cats, but nothing in the way of leading us to the killer. Outdoor crimes were common, but also frustrating. There was little a homicide detective could do in light of Mother Nature. Even as Camden and I coordinated the door-to-doors and followed the van to the coroner's. It had settled deep within my bones, unwilling to subside.

Shortly after eight-thirty in the morning, I managed to remain professional, to remain in character at playing the solemn detective knocking on the door of Alicia's former residence, introducing myself as a member of the homicide unit. Doing my best to keep that quiet façade as the mother burst into tears, wailing to God, "My baby!"

My second shift officially ended at eight, but as the afternoon rolled around I found myself at my desk, going through the preliminary evidence as well as what little information the family had provided. Over scalding, retched coffee, I reread my notes before typing them up.

Alicia had been missing for nearly two days after going to the library after school. She had initially planned on meeting a fellow classmate there but the other child had failed to show so Alicia had checked out two books, both of which were due back by October 30th. Usually, Alicia went to the library with her older sister, but had occasionally walked the six blocks by herself, but rarely.

And the one time she did...

Missing Persons had faxed all of its paperwork to me shortly after making the request at a little after two in the morning. By then, the mood from the day before had all but vanished. Detectives were laboring over paperwork or phoning all possible resources. Not a single one was holed up in the break room, yukking it up. In fact, nearly every detective from the second shift had stayed over well into the next, either in the office or out on the street.

There was something about when a child was killed in the city of Bludhaven. A drug dealer gets whacked or a mob goon gets it or even if some old lady buys it by drowning in the tub, none of it compares to an eleven year old body laid out in a cold, damp, alley.

"Refill, Grayson?"

I looked up to see the face of Dan "The Big Man" Harden. On h is third wife now, it wasn't an odd occurrence to see him randomly enter the room, especially on time off. He reminded my of less frightening version of Bane, well over six foot with the bulk of his two-hundred and fifty pound frame in his torso. His hair was dark and shaggy on top with graying sideburns that ended with the lobes of his ears. In a good mood, he would joke about his "skunk hairdo" but with a bad mood, it was best to stick to business.

He offered me a fresh cup of coffee, "How long you been here?" I asked.

"Little over an hour. How about you?"

I leaned back in the chair, just as I had done while talking to Barbara earlier. After glancing at my watch, my eyes widened slightly, "Almost eighteen hours."

He nodded. Most detectives would have patted me on the shoulder and told me to go home and rest. But not Dan. On my very first redball case, one that had surely stumped me for good, he had been pleased to watch from a distance as I worked my way through it. Since then, he had done nothing to harbor my inability to back down, if anything, he had fed it.

Guzzling the coffee barely gave me the sense of rejuvenation that I desperately needed. I picked up the empty mug and made my way to the break room. Perhaps a splash of cold water on my face would do the trick. On my way, I paused at the Board and looked over it until I found my name. For the first time in as long as I could remember, one of my cases was listed in red ink.

Open to investigation.

Open to be solved.

Unsolved.

Unsolvable.

V

Let the fun begin...

Next chapter up shortly (as long as post-midterm trauma doesn't take effect on me)