Title: One And Only: VII

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.

V

Gobble Gobble!

V

In a state of partial wakefulness, I reached over to drape my arm over Selina, and instead was met with a ball of warm fur. Then a pair of sharp claws.

My hand quickly retreated beneath the covers before I eyed the spot where my wife had been sleeping. Isis was lying on her side, eyes wide and threatening. I glared back and she wiggled her nose. A truce of sorts.

It was a little before nine according to the alarm clock, and it being a Saturday, I found it interesting that I was the only one in bed. Sitting up, I glanced around the room and spotted her on the sofa near the windows, a drape pulled back partially to reveal clean, bright sunshine. More so, I noticed she was talking on the phone, doing her best to keep her voice quiet. At that point, understanding what she was talking about was the least of my concerns.

The night before, Batgirl and I had infiltrated the basement of a notoriously seedy establishment where illegal gambling was the cover for a far darker line: drug trafficking. Upon our arrival, there were fourteen men in the basement, quickly sealing off plastic wrapped packages of a wide variety of narcotics. At first glance, it was easy to see that none were armed for any serious offense or defense, mostly in part because the only action they ever saw was putting liters of coke into cardboard boxes.

Even still, it was an effort to take them down. We worked systematically, cutting out the lights, bombarding the enclosed basement with gas bombs and locking major exits. Fear caused the panic I had desired and had allowed them to become erratic in their actions. We both had been overwhelmed and suffered slightly for it. It had been some time since I had to take down half of a dozen people in less than a minute.

I returned home shortly after four-thirty, after securing the scene, watching each suspect put into custody and shipped out to city jail. Then a final tour of the Bowery had topped off the night before I decided the city was safe for the time being.

Selina had squirmed away from me when I got into bed, smelling of liniment and antiseptic.

After getting out of bed, I walked up from behind her, leaned over and kissed her cheek. She smiled at me quickly and then motioned for me to go away. I offered a grunt of protest but as she returned to her phone call, I ended up sighing and heading for the shower. As I reached the bathroom door, she called back, "Dress warm, high is supposed to be forty today."

Brr.

For the last few weeks, we had barely shared any time together. She had dedicated herself to the Preserve forty hours a week, if not more, while I had been trapped in the prison of the office for just as long. Then, whenever we were home at the same time, it was for taking care of Mattie or sleeping. Independence was one thing, but the divided state we had found ourselves in was another.

Not ones to remain passive, we had taken action in an effort to combat our hectic schedules. That day, we were to spend the day up at the Preserve, welcoming its first four-legged inhabitants as well as for a tour of the facility. I hadn't been up there since the initial construction phase when everything had been dirt piles and steel beams. Then, at night, we had reservations in town at Tar Beck's for seven-thirty. She had tried to persuade me to call off patrols, but in light of a recent increase in activity, I couldn't do so with a clear conscience.

As I showered, I did a run down of day's activities and then proceeded further to organize patrols for that evening. Just as I was deciding on what time to visit the docks, I winced at a sudden pulse in my temple, more so out of surprise than pain. I rarely had headaches, and usually when they surfaced they would be more of an irritant than a problem. That was before...

The decision to leave the bullet in its place in the frontal lobe had been made in light of preserving my life. And since the tissue of the brain had no nervous sensation, it was unlikely that the bullet was the cause of any problems. I had inquired Leslie about the possibility of ever removing it and she had frowned before replying, "It's a constant aide memoire for you, for all of us. I'd hate to meddle where it's not needed and end up with you as a memory instead of a reminder."

I stepped out of the shower, toweled off and then allowed the sink to fill with warm water as I popped back two aspirin. Quickly, I lathered my jaw and began shaving. It was quite a drive out and I wanted to get going as soon as possible.

When I had one half of my face done, Selina tapped on the door and entered before I could answer. Before approaching me, she grabbed a hand towel off of a rack on the wall. Then, shortly after she paused at my side, she reached up and wiped the clean-shaven half of my face before kissing my cheek.

"Good morning," she said, far too awake for the hour.

"Morning," I murmured back to her.

I watched her reflection in the mirror as she walked over to turn the shower on. She caught my gaze and shook her head, mumbled something that sounded like "stalker." When she stepped into the shower, I rinsed my face one last time and patted it dry with the towel she had brought over. Just as I was about to ask when she wanted to leave, she called out over the water, "I think we should leave by at least quarter of ten."

With a slight smirk on my face, I thought how odd it was that we could practically predict what each other was thinking. Then again, after all these years, it wasn't that hard to believe, for I had certainly seen stranger things. I told her I would get a car ready after I got dressed and checked in with Mattie.

She then requested something faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and able to climb up the walls of tall buildings in four-wheel drive. Before she could finish her Superman joke, I stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door just after hearing her laughter.

Since it was supposed to be cool that day and we would be spending a vast majority of it outside, I chose the warmest casual clothes I could find. Knee high black wool socks, flannel lined jeans and a silk under shirt beneath a dark blue turtleneck sweater. After putting on a pair of old leather boots, I walked down the hall towards Mattie's room and was saw that she had already started her morning.

Her bed was made haphazardly, her pajamas from the night before tossed in a small wicker laundry basket and she was seated at a small activity table in the rear of her room, furiously coloring and drawing. While Selina and I were away for the day, she would be spending it with Alfred and Leslie, and then later with Barbara. Although not certain, the tentative plans they had made for her involved Christmas shopping, lunch, and a movie. At first, we had told her that we were simply going out of town and that we would be back later that day.

Selina slipped up at dinner three nights ago and Mattie quickly realized we were going up to the Preserve. She had only gone up a handful of times and while Selina had reamed out contractors, Mattie and I had walked a few of the trails nearby. But now that there were actually going to be cats up there... We promised her that she could go up once they had settled in. She had pouted and whined and did her best, but when she realized we were not going to relent, she sighed and agreed.

I cleared my throat from the door and she looked up and smiled at me. After putting her crayon down, she pushed her chair out and ran over to me. I leaned down and picked her up as she said, "Morning, Dad."

"Good morning, Kitten," I replied as she wrapped her arms around my neck, "Have you eaten breakfast?"

She nodded, "Alfred made blueberry muffins."

"Ah," I said as I put her back down, "And did you take your medicine?"

She nodded again and then walked back over to her table. One of the drawbacks of being around twenty kindergartners is that they all seem to have a knack for spreading diseases. Mattie had caught a cold a week ago and missed two days of school. I had pushed for the whole week off but Mattie didn't want to miss Art Time on Thursday and Friday. Antibiotics had cleared up most of it but she still would utter a raspy cough or sneeze or two.

"What are you drawing?" I asked as I followed her.

"Sher Kahn," she said as she sat back down.

"Who?"

With the practiced patience of her mother, Mattie sighed, "Sher Kahn, Dad. The Jungle Book. He's a tiger."

I looked down at the paper and sure enough a large four-legged orange thing with black stripes was labeled "Sher Kahn." Next to it, was an animal of a similar shape, only all black, "And who is that one?"

"That's Bagheera, he takes care of Mowgli."

I nodded, slowly recalling the characters from Kipling's jungle tale. Although the book was far too much for Mattie at the moment, she had been fascinated with several animated movies of late, all starring felines. Last week, it had been "The Aristocats". It had always been a worry of mine, how much her fascination with cats was nature, or if nurture had come into play.

It could be worse, I reasoned with myself as I sat on the floor beside her table, she could take to admiring the dark influences of a certain winged creature.

V

"You can put that over there, Cass," I said before sipping my coffee.

She was leaning against the small love seat, her hair matted down slightly from a hard earned sweat. As she rolled her eyes at me, she stood up straight and asked, "Why can't it be here?"

After setting my mug down on my new end table, I pointed to the empty spot in the far corner of the living room, "Because, that's where I want it to be, so that's where it goes."

After another dirty look, she sighed and began pushing the love seat across the carpet.

The brand new hunter green carpet.

The systemic destruction of my apartment, or the infamous "Sewer Sludging" as Tim called it, gave way to the second renovation of my home in one year. Instead of the soft white colors I had introduced over the summer, I was now surrounded by a wide selection of earth tones. Bruce had covered all expenses, from the removal of all of the ruined furniture, fumigation of the apartment as well as all of the new paint, carpeting and furniture I could ever need. He even came over twice to paint the walls and ceiling.

Now, with everything prepared, the only task that remained was the arranging of furniture. And since they were the ones who had started the whole mess, I had recruited Tim and Cass to act as my slave labor for the day. Lucky for him, Tim was on a long weekend leadership convention in Washington, DC. So instead of having to move furniture around, he would have to wash all of my windows, inside and out. And the clock face. All of it.

"What else?" Cass asked as she aimed the love seat towards the center of the room.

"That's it for now, I guess. Rest of it comes in tomorrow morning."

With a sigh, she collapsed on the chair she had just moved, "There's more?"

I nodded, "Well, I figured if Bruce was paying, I could use a new bedroom and dining set." She failed to see the humor in it and instead laid back and closed her eyes. "Tired?"

"Yeah. Busy night."

"Sure was," I replied, "You two gave me quite a time trying to keep track of you. "How many did they end up taking into custody?"

She uttered a yawn and I smiled to see that she covered her mouth for it, "Can't remember. At least fifteen. There were a few upstairs we got to too late."

"Better late than never." When she didn't respond I asked, "So, how about a break? We could order some lunch in if you're hungry, my kitchen's pretty much down to the bare essentials."

After sitting up again, Cass looked over at me, "I noticed."

"You noticed," I laughed, "You're the reason it's empty."

"Growing girl," she commented before standing and retrieving the phone.

Not even a half hour later, we were seated on the couch, take out cartons of steaming rice and spicy tso chicken in hand, and the TV screen displaying "Will & Grace" re-runs. No better way to spend a Saturday.

Cass had been spending quite a bit of time home with me during the days. When she had first returned, most of her daylight weekend hours were spent up at Wayne Manor playing with Mattie. Then, as she settled back in to the swing of things, she ended up using the day to catch up on sleep lost from long nights out on patrol. I had asked a few times about maybe enrolling in some night classes at GSU but she said she wouldn't have time.

For as long as I had known her, she had always been a sponge when it came to new concepts and knowledge. However, over the years, I had also been able to watch her focus intensify and her interest in "stupid everyday things" slowly decrease, despite my efforts. Even her time spent abroad had done little to spurn her interest in cultural subject matters. I was pleased, however, that Bruce had noticed and brought it up to her.

And that a week later she had inquired to me about what online courses she could take.

Her twenty-first birthday was coming and she was an asocial, work-obsessed vigilante. Far too much like her mentor than I preferred. All of us, from Dick right up to Tim, were able to carry on somewhat normal lives outside of our masks. We had friends, school, lives and relationships, and however tough it made life, it was actually a life.

As I looked over at Cass, I realized she had none.

There was one that I was unsure of, however. A relationship.

There had always been a considerable tension between Tim and Cassandra, and almost everyone knew it. They were practically the same age, maturity and had similar outlooks on life: work equaled play. Tim had truly blossomed from that awkward teenager, unsure of his skills and his role in life and Cass... Well, she had always known of her strengths, but had been unsure of her ability to control them. In fact, as I thought about it, they both had estranged relationships with their fathers, perhaps Cass more so than Tim, but even still.

I suppose what was really bothering me was that there was something off about both of them. Nothing drastic but they were rarely seen together anymore, even on basic patrols, Robin would go off alone and if anyone paired up, it would be Batgirl and Batman. It was almost as if they were avoiding each other.

And the only time I can pinpoint as to when the change took place was when they had come to my apartment, drenched in foulness. Where I had chased them down the hall and into the bathroom. And had shut both of them in.

"What?" she asked.

I realized I had been staring at her and I shrugged, "Nothing, thinking to myself."

"About?"

"Nothing."

Nothing. Just how different you and Tim have been acting since I shoved you two into the bathroom a few weeks ago, and wondering what exactly happened after I left that would have caused such oddness in either of you and if I was responsible for whatever may have happened...

Cass stared back at me for a moment and then reached over to retrieve and egg roll from the coffee table. I sighed and then spoke up, "Actually, I was thinking about you."

She took a bite, then asked, "What about me?", crumbs slipped out of her mouth and landed on the couch.

I drew a breath quickly and then handed over a napkin, "Aside from a refresher course for you on eating etiquette?"

"Right," she mumbled as she took the napkin.

Not wanting to let my thoughts rest in silence, I decided to tread dangerous water, "So, I've hardly seen Tim these last few weeks."

If I hadn't been looking for it, I wouldn't have seen it. A slight change in her face, her eyes opening the slightest of fractions. A slight nibble on her lower lip. A tiny shrug of her left shoulder. Cassandra Cain was many things, but she was most definitely not prone to fidgeting.

She brushed me off by saying, "Well, he has a lot to do. School and work."

"Right," I agreed. "Have you seen much of him, at night?"

She shrugged, "Not really. Big city to cover."

Unsure as to how much rope I needed to hang myself with, I went further, "Well, you two really haven't had much time together since you got back."

Her posture stiffened, "Why would we need time together?"

"Well, you were gone all summer, Cass, we missed you, all of us." I watched as she stood and turned towards the hallway entrance. Running away from her problems. "Cass, I didn't mean anything by it."

I was surprised when she turned around and faced me just before leaving the room, "Of course not. You know, maybe you should be worried about you and Dick, not me and Tim."

My eyes followed her as she made her way to her room at the end of the hallway and slammed the door shut.

V

Twenty minutes out of Bristol, I glanced over at him.

We had been at the Preserve for six hours, most of it on our feet touring the grounds prior to the arrival of the cats. Bruce was tired but did his best to be amiable as we walked wet paths and checked over the turnouts one last time. He also did his best to remain positive, despite his concern about the project. There was a certain degree of risk involved, not financially, but physically. However, in order to appease him as much as possible, I had personally seen to it that those hired and to be involved with the cats had the practical experience necessary to ensure that no one would be eaten.

That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

But even I noticed him smiling slightly as the snow leopards trotted around their new home.

Before taking the exit for downtown, I heard him mumble softly and looked over again. He was definitely dozing off at this point. From knowing him as long as I had, it was fairly easy to tell when something was bothering him. He slept differently, he worked out differently, he even handled his child differently. But with work and home and his nightly activities, it was quite the task to decide which aspect of his life was being the proverbial pain in the ass.

Or it could be that other thing...

Five months earlier, Bruce and Dick had undergone yet another falling out. Once again, all over Dick's choice in careers. Bruce had tried to get Alfred and me on his side but we had experienced these issues before, and knew that neutrality was the safest course. I still remember when Dick had called Bruce one evening after the initial argument. Bruce had been on the floor, stretching out his back and shoulders after coming back from a jog around the property. I had walked in just as Bruce stated, and most likely not for the first time in the conversation, that police work was unpredictably violent and dangerous, especially whereas firearms were concerned.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing when Dick had replied before hanging up, "Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black... At least I get a dental plan!"

Thinking of Dick, a frown came to my face. For well over two months, he had not visited Gotham, an odd occurrence considering his attempt to reunite with Barbara as well as his bond with his little sister. Although the news had long since buried the story of the Wallach murder, it was still an everyday burden for him, and for me. Whenever Barbara and I got together, we would always end up talking about him. I knew he was putting in a lot of hours on the case, but it was a senseless murder and detectives, let alone vigilantes, would do everything in their power to bring the killer to justice.

But had Dick gone too far?

Barbara had commented the week before that she had not seen Nightwing's homing signal on in over a week. And the secret one she had placed in the sole of his boot had not left the closet of Dick's apartment in nine days. It wasn't true, but I wished he was using the night hours to catch up on rest instead of torturing himself out on the rooftops. Every time she called his home he wouldn't answer and every time she had tried to call him at work, another detective would pick up and reply that he was busy.

Busy killing himself on an unsolvable case...

Bruce jerked slightly in the seat next to me and then sat up straight before clearing his throat. "How long was I out?" his voice grumbled.

"Almost twenty minutes," I replied looking at the clock display, "And you snored like a wild boar." I smiled as my hand snaked over and scratched his arm.

I switched lanes and made the move for St. James South, feeling a slight chill travel down my spine. A little over four years earlier, Bruce and I had been driving down this road to a night out in town. One we never had the chance to enjoy. A carjacker was fleeing from police going the wrong way on the one-way highway, and had crashed head-on with us. Both of us came out in a few pieces and mended fairly quickly but it was still a difficult part of our past.

He must have recognized the tension in my posture because he reached spoke softly, "That was a while ago."

"Yeah." In a rare gesture of affection, Bruce reached for my hand and squeezed it. Always a gentleman.

We were early to dinner and instead of sitting at the bar among intoxicated socialites, I suggested we tour Tyner Memorial Park, especially since it was fairly mild outside. With the car being guided away by the valet, we crossed the street and passed through the park's wrought iron entrance. It was put up fifteen years earlier and had a recluse for downtown suits who couldn't take the fifteen minutes out of their day to take the subway or a cab over to Robinson.

Even though it was much smaller than Robinson, it was always a nice place to spend an afternoon. Broad paved paths, excellent lighting at night as well as a nice little children's play ground and collection of sport fields. With a little over twenty minutes to ourselves, we moved slowly through the park, my arms wrapped around one of his as I leaned against him slightly. Bruce's camel hair coat was soft and warm on my face and I smiled as he slowed to match his stride with mine.

As we nearly completed half of the loop, we stepped to the side as a jogger worked her way passed us, her breath coming out in white clouds. Seeing her move so fluidly made me feel somewhat guilty. I did my best to jog a few times a week, even if it was on the treadmill, on top of any strength training I did. But in the last few weeks, working on the Preserve had consumed not only all of my time, but my energy as well.

Once things settled I could get back into a routine...

My thoughts were interrupted when I spotted a small coffee stand towards the rear entrance of the Park. It's sole proprietor stood shivering as he checked the fluids in several heating pots. Bruce noticed it as well and was looking at it when I heard a rustle in the grass. Looking to my left, I spotted two dark clothed men walking briskly across the ground, talking in hushed voices. Obviously dubious characters.

Before my wayward husband could discover the ambiguous men in the dark, I cleared my throat, "I would love some mocha coffee."

He looked down at me, then at the stand. After a sigh, he let go of my arm and walked over to the stand. I pretended to walk around the corner to look at a statue, one of some revolutionary officer mounted on a bronze-rearing steed. Instead, I found security in the darkness of a few pine trees and quickly sprinted towards a scene I had partially expected. The two men were a few strides behind the jogger. With her headphones on, she had no clue what was coming. Neither did her pursuers.

Armed with a small leather purse, containing lipstick, my cell phone and bubble gum, I suddenly wished I had at least brought my brass knuckles. Not that I needed them, but they would have been pretty handy. I whistled lowly and both of the men spun around and stared at me in the same way a dog did when it's owner pretended to throw a ball. Then, not a moment later, they walked towards me, icy eyes darting and sly sneers unwavering, most likely already imagining how much they could get for my Jimmy Choo pumps.

Men.

A hard kick to the left man's side knocked him into his comrade, setting them both off balance. Another well placed kick allowed the second one to double over as he cupped his groin. If I had the time, I would have taken it, but Bruce would be looking for me, and I didn't need him to walk in on me taking my frustrations out on a few street punks.

I kicked both of them in a one-two fashion, my leg connecting with the sides of their heads, bringing about sudden unconsciousness. I watched as they collapsed onto the ground in a heap, and then glanced to see the jogger had managed her way further down the trail.

"Your welcome..." I muttered before digging out my cell. An anonymous call to emergency dispatch and a few quick steps back down the path later, I spotted Bruce holding a cup of steaming coffee and starting to look confused. I waved at him and as he approached he asked, "Where did you go?"

As my mind searched for a believable excuse, I heard the clip clop of hooves coming down the street. I glanced over towards the rear entrance to see a horse drawn carriage pulling up to the coffee stand. "Bruce, how about we get a ride back, these shoes are killing my feet."

Before he could repeat his question, I dragged him over to the cart and flashed a grin at the driver as stood beside the tall black Quarter Horse, its harness shiny black and dressed with brass buckles. He tipped his felt hat and nodded at me, "Good evening ma'am, sir." Bruce arranged for a ride back to the restaurant and paid as I stroked the sleek horse's dark face. Mattie's riding instructor and I had been plotting over the last few months on how to go about getting a horse for Mattie without Bruce ever knowing. And since he likes to know everything about anything, it had been a rather difficult task.

We had just begun to pull out into the street when I noticed a flash of lights. Good old GCPD could sure respond to a scene when an innocent female athlete was involved... Bruce looked in their direction briefly and I watched as the features of his face hardened instantly.

"Shit..." I mumbled, not wanting our night to be ruined by his alter ego's brooding attitude.

He looked back at me, some of the Bat-mode dissimilating, as concern appeared, "What's wrong?"

Think fast, Kyle.

"I... I uh... The back of my earring came off, could you look by your feet?"

V

When I first came to Wayne Manor, Thanksgiving dinner had become my task and mine alone. After several decades, I had it mastered to a science, prepared for the worst but always hoping for the best. The determining factor for a successful Thanksgiving relied on one single factor.

How well I could keep the kitchen free of interfering individuals.

"Mmm, smells delicious."

I looked up from a tray of steaming fresh rolls to see Dr. Thompkins as she entered the kitchen from the hall entrance. When last I had seen her, not more than an hour earlier, she had been in the den with the rest of the family. Dressed for the occasion in a dark calf length skirt and pale blue blouse, I smiled as she walked over and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Now Really, Leslie, I do have important duties to tend to."

She laughed, "Of course you do. Better make sure those buns get on the cooling rack before the world implodes."

I muttered softly. And then put the buns on a cooling rack.

When I turned to ask her what she had come for, I caught her peeking into a covered saucepan on the stove. After she looked up to receive my glare, she returned the cover and held her hands up in retreat, "Fine, you win. I'm leaving." I was about acknowledge my victory in evicting her when she left on her own. However, she paused at the door and looked back at me, "I thought you would like to know... Dick's pulling up the drive," and then she left me, mouth parted and all.

After lowering the settings on the stove before removing my apron and wiping my hands free of flour. I set out in to the hall, just as Dr. Thompkins had not a moment earlier. Even though I was a good thirty yards away, I could hear soft voices echo down the corridor. At my last count, there were nine scheduled to eat that night, including myself. And with the ninth and final guest arriving, I allowed myself a slight smile.

Upon opening the large oak door of the front entrance, I found Master Dick pulling up in a dark two-door sedan. He passed the double staircase and parked just before a burlap wrapped hedge. In light of the recent frost and chilly weather, I had taken to covering most of the plants in need of saving on the property, with the aid of Dr. Thompkins and Ms. Selina. He paused slightly before getting out of the car, straightening his tie before shutting the door and walking around the front hood.

It was then I saw it.

Something amiss.

Something oddly familiar.

To the casual eye, it may have gone unnoticed, but I had watched the man before me grow from an awkward prepubescent to the accomplished hero and to the detective and officer of the law. My eyes were attuned to his gait, specifically, how it lacked the usual smooth, animated stride and was nothing more than a slow, shuffle. His overcoat was large, but so were the clothes that covered his frame. I had not seen him in over month and it was a shock to see him in such a poor condition.

However, despite my obvious concern for him, I offered a smile and a warm welcome, "Master Dick."

"Alf," he smirked slightly and followed me into the atrium.

As I took his coat for him, I gently brazed my fingers over his shoulders, feeling prominence through his collarbones and scapulas. Instead of commenting, I stated, "So glad you could make it, sir. Everyone is waiting in the den."

"Thanks," he replied before looking up the hall.

Unsure as to whether he had any intentions of moving, I stepped forward and made my way down the corridor. Listening carefully, I found he took a first step after I had taken five. Since I was in the lead, I stopped first at the den and stood just inside the entrance. Master Dick stepped up to my side and looked in at the scene before us. Master Bruce and Commissioner Gordon were seated on the small leather sofa, near the fireplace while Ms. Selina and Ms. Barbara were sitting with Miss Cassandra and Miss Mattie on the larger couch opposite the smaller.

I could not place Master Timothy and I suddenly feared for the apple crisp in the kitchen.

I became aware of the fact that Master Dick had yet to make any move to enter the room. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I was slightly discouraged to see the solemn expression that dulled his features.

Over the last few weeks, Ms. Selina and I had discussed on several occasions the concerns relented to her from Ms. Barbara. Ever since he had taken up the Wallach case in October, he had slowly withdrawn from the normal way of life he had been consistently taking part in for over five years. He had developed an intricate system between his detective work both masked and unmasked, in addition to visiting his family on an almost regular basis. And as he and his acquaintance had begun to rekindle their dying ember of love, it was reasonable to expect it not to go smoothly.

Ms. Barbara would never have expected that her hurdle would have been as grand as the death of Alicia Wallach.

I heard him clear his throat before taking a few strides into the room and towards the others. It was then, as I watched him in the setting as he struggled to be social with half-hearted smiles and weak handshakes, that I recognized it. The familiarity in the way he carried himself and the way he looked.

The same way Master Bruce looked as he slowly deteriorated while capturing the dozens of inmates from the Arkham break out years earlier. When he had retreated so far within himself that deep down, he wished for death. A wish that the sinister Bane had been all too willing to grant him.

V

I was about to ask if I could go find Isis, prepared with a promise not to get dirty or to bother Alfred, when I looked towards the door and saw him. After I smiled and jumped off of the couch and raced across the room, "Dick!"

He slowly knelt before me and spread his arms before I reached out and hugged him. I squeezed as hard as I could as I felt him wrap his arms around my back, "How's my little sister?"

I giggled as he stood, leaving me on the ground. Usually he would pick me up and put me on his shoulders, even though Dad didn't like it. I thought it was fun, though, being able to see above everyone's heads. Even still, I latched onto his hand, taking hold of as many fingers as I could. I hadn't seen him since before Halloween, almost a lifetime.

Before I could tell him about school or soccer or anything, I noticed Mom had gotten up and approached us. She was smiling softly and stepped right up to him, "Glad you could come, Dick," she said before leaning over and kissing his cheek.

He nodded slightly and as I looked up at him, he replied, "Same here. After all these years, I don't know if I could be satisfied by a Thanksgiving dinner if it wasn't from Alfred."

That's for sure. I always tried to save room in my stomach for Thanksgiving, but I was never able to eat as much as Cassie, Dick and Tim. Last year, they had a pie-eating contest after dinner. It ended as a tie between Cassie and Tim and a very angry Alfred.

I followed Mom back to the couches and waited for Dick to take a seat before I climbed up and sat on his lap. After straightening my skirt, I leaned back against him and kissed his cheek. He tickled my arm slightly and then looked over at Dad. I was confused though, because he didn't look too happy to see Dick. Barbara was though, and she leaned on the arm of the couch she was sitting on closer to him, "Long time no see stranger."

He shrugged, "Been pretty busy," there was a long moment of silence that Dad ended by clearing his throat. Dick looked over at him and then looked over at Mom, "So, how's the preserve coming along?"

I bounced slightly on his lap, "There are cats there now."

His eyebrows rose, "There are, have you seen them?"

I nodded, a smile growing on my face from just thinking about the snow leopards. Mom had taken me up last weekend and I watched as they had played around in the few inches of snow that was up at the Preserve. Mom said that maybe, if she got a quiet cat, that maybe I could pet it. "Yep, snow leopards, Dick, five of them."

Mom agreed, "Yeah, we're still in the process of being able to tell them apart. Tampa is easy to pick out, though, isn't she Mattie?"

"Yeah, she has a big dot on her paw," I arched my thumbs and pointer fingers and pressed the tips together, "This big."

Thinking about the leopards reminded me of my quest to go find Isis. I slid off of Dick's lap and asked if I could go get her. So she could say hi to everyone of course. Mom said I could as long as "you promise not to get dirty." Why did everyone ask that?

The last time I had seen her, she had been in the library, curled up in the chair at Dad's desk. I skipped down the hall towards the room and had to jump a bit to turn the light switch on. Isis had moved, but not far. She was laying on the desk, batting her paw at a pen. I climbed up on the chair, pushed the pen away from her and leaned over to touch noses with her. Mom had gotten Isis before I was born so she had always been there. I liked to think that we were kind of like sisters, sometimes. My friends at school had sisters and brothers their own age. I loved Dick but it wasn't the same...

After picking her up, I hopped off of the chair and walked back towards the den. She mewed softly and pawed at my chin. She had only scratched me a few times, but only from playing. The only person she really clawed at was Dad, but they never got along well anyway.

The second I got back, the room went quiet as everyone looked over at me. Uncle Jim and Leslie had left and when I looked over at Dick, I noticed Barbara had moved to sit next to him in her wheelchair. There was room next to Dad and I walked over and sat beside him.

As the grown-up talk started, I leaned against Dad and scratched Isis under her chin. After a few minutes, Dad reached an arm around my back and pet Isis' hind leg. He probably figured that there weren't any teeth back there, so it was a safer place to pet.

Just before I was about to ask when dinner was, Alfred entered the room and announced that everything was prepared. Everyone stood at once and slowly made their way out of the room, except for Mom, Dad and myself. Isis too. I watched as Dad looked at Dick as he walked away with Tim. Usually they would rough house whenever they were together, until Dad or Alfred yelled at them.

But then they only walked side-by-side, not even talking. Odd. They were probably focused on how much food they were going to eat. Or who would get the drumstick.

I kissed Isis on the head then let her go. Mom walked over to the couch we were sitting on and leaned over to face me, "Why don't you get washed up?"

"Yep," I said as I got off of the couch. There was a bathroom next door, one for when company came over. When I opened the bottom cupboard under the sink, I frowned to see there wasn't a step stool. I returned to the den and paused at the door. Mom and Dad were both standing and talking quietly. I could tell he was upset, he was making the face where his mouth and eyes tightened and the muscles of his jaw clenched.

Before they realized I was back already, I heard Mom's voice rise, "I don't care, Bruce, you need to talk to him."

Dad drew a breath and instead of replying, he looked over at me, his face instantly relaxing, "What's the matter, Kitten?"

"Um, there's no stool."

He looked back at Mom, nodded and then walked towards me, "Okay, I'll help you."

When we got back into the bathroom, he picked me up and let me sit on the counter so I could wash my hands. Dad picked a hand towel and gave it to me to dry my hands as he washed his. He took it after me and as he dried, I asked, "Who do you have to talk to?"

"What?" he replied as he hung the towel back up.

"Mom told you to talk to someone. Is it about the cats?"

"No, no. It has nothing to do with them. It's just something I have to remember to do today."

As he helped me off of the counter, I nodded, "Yep, I know what that is."

"You do?" he asked as he opened the door for me.

"Of course, Dad. It's Thanksgiving. You have to remember to be thankful."

V

With at least five pounds of turkey too many in my stomach, I was doing my best not to fall asleep on the couch. The "adults" were in the dining room, conversing over coffee and cherry pie. Mattie had been put to bed just after dinner, exhausted after a day of over-eating and playing hostess. Cass and I had holed up in the recreation den, which was a little less than half of the main one. However, it was where the TV, stereo, and surround sound, all extravagantly equipped and priced.

And for the last hour, we had been flipping back in forth as to what movie to watch.

"Plot, Cass. How can you watch a movie that has no purpose?" I asked before sipping a glass of water.

She shrugged on the couch beside me, "It has purpose. Body counts, bloody fists, bad guys biting the dust," she retorted as she counted off on her fingers.

I was about to ask her how a bloody fist could possibly be compared to an unexpected antagonist shifting over the side of the protagonist when I heard soft footsteps at the door. A glance over my shoulder and identified Dick as the new comer. I nodded at him and if he had seen it, it hadn't shown it as he walked by me and collapsed into a large arm chair.

"Anyone leave yet?" I asked.

I waited for him to reply, and was about to ask again when he responded, "Jim and Barbara left about ten minutes ago."

"Ah," I commented. I set my glass back down in the table and noticed that Cass was looking at me. My brow tightened, as if questioning her what she wanted. In response, her eyes darted to Dick before returning to meet mine. I read the message loud and clear.

Earlier, before he had even arrived, Cass and I had over heard mild conversations in the den. Concerned conversations about him and how much he had taken on over the last few months. Having my own fair share of work, I hadn't noticed his absence quite as much as everyone else has. The old out of sight/out of mind routine, I suppose. But after seeing him so withdrawn, pale and down right exhausted, my interest had been considerably boosted.

"What are we watching?" he asked quietly.

I glanced at the screen to see John Travolta being dragged away by a rolling vehicle through blazing inferno that once was a parking lot. Obviously, Cass had the remote. She answered him, "The Punisher."

"Ah, a classic," he muttered.

Whether there was too much testosterone in the room or there was an off chance that there would be any cheesecake left, Cass stood and said, "I'll be right back. And don't change the movie."

I watched her leave, perhaps longer than necessary, and was interrupted when Dick let out a low chuckle. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied, a hint of a smile on his face. Whatever he found amusing was worth it, even if it was at my expense. I smiled a bit as well and settled deeper into the couch, "So, how about them Red Sox?"

He shrugged, "How's school going?"

"It's going, schools' been a little hectic but the nightlife has been pretty easy lately. Now I know how you felt when you were in school..."

"Yeah, it's not easy, but well worth it."

I suppose. At least you are over that whole 'no direction in life' phase. Everything I've tried, even the law stuff, it just didn't fit. I could do the work but I was bored to tears. Now I'm back to the business trail, pretty much to keep my Dad off of my back."

"Where is your Dad?" he asked.

I sighed, "He and Dana are visiting her parents. I was supposed to go up but... Oh well, enough about me, how's it going in the 'Haven?"

"Same old, same old, I guess."

I paused, then asked, "How've the rooftops been?" I waited knowing damn well he hadn't been out as Nightwing in over a week and if he had, it had been in a guise none of us knew about. I was surprised when he said, "To tell you the truth, I've been working under the badge more than with the mask."

"A lot of night shifts?" I asked before chancing a look back to the door. Cass must have hit the dessert jack pot, she had been gone for at least an eternity. Or maybe it was the unfamiliar awkwardness that had arisen between my best friend and I.

"No, just a lot of overtime," he leaned back and closed his eyes, "This one case, man..." he mumbled.

Not knowing whether it was my place or not, I offered, "Hey you ever need help, with anything Dick, let me know. Gotham's been pretty dull lately, if you need someone to cover patrols, you call me."

Dick opened his eyes and drew a long breath, "I'll keep that in mind," even though we both knew he wouldn't.

Just as Cass returned with three slices of cheesecake, I heard a soft buzzing sound. Dick jerked slightly and fished his coat pockets until he retrieved a cell phone. After answering and telling the caller to hold on a minute, he stood and looked over at the door, "I have to get going..."

I stood as well and put my hands in my pockets, "Yeah, well we should meet up sometime, beat each other over takeout or something."

Another half-hearted smile and a look towards the door, "Definitely," and then as he passed Cass on the way out, "Keep him in line, will ya?"

I sat back down as he disappeared into the hall. Cass offered me one plate, set the second one down next to my water glass and kept the third for herself. She then sat on the couch with me and asked, "Why did he leave? Work?"

I shrugged, tasted the cake and replied, "Didn't say but I wouldn't doubt it."

We watched the end of the movie until all of the credits had rolled. I managed three bites of cake before deciding against inducing my guts to burst. Cass had emptied hers and set her plate under the one on the table. "Don't you think it was weird?"

"What was?" I replied.

"We didn't even have an eating contest this year. We always do."

Weird. It was down right wrong.

V

"I'm back, talk to me, Dave."

Dave Sturgis, one of the day shift detectives replied, "Oh boy-oh, Grayson, you better be thankful for this."

"What happened?"

I heard the rustle of paper, a loud laugh that had to have been from Grant Morris, and then Sturgis' tobacco scarred voice, "Hardy was reviewing the preliminary reports we did up on the interviews, was actually checking through the neighbors and local people and that market guy, five blocks from her house, well turns out he gave us an alias on the initial interview."

I recalled the dislike that he and I had initially for the market owner. There was nothing concrete, but there was something about him... He gave off that same eerie vibe that so-called reformed murderers did.

He continued, "We both went down this afternoon, brought him in under a secondary interview, finally got it out of him. His real name is Arlen Cayhill and he's got a record."

"What on?" I asked.

"Aggravated assault, robbery and rape."

I allowed a brief silence before telling him I would be there in an hour. As I pocketed my phone, I passed the dining room and frowned to see that it was empty, even the table had been cleared. I followed soft voices to the main den and when I looked in, I noticed Bruce and Selina were sitting on the sofa together. There had been in the middle of a muted conversation, and from the look on Bruce's face, it hadn't been a pleasant one. I cleared my throat to announce my presence, "I'm heading out."

"So soon?" Selina asked as she turned to face me.

"Yeah, I got a call from work, something's come up."

I watched on as Selina faced Bruce again and reached out and touched his arm. He stood, smoothed out his shirt and said, "I'll see you out." His tone said it wasn't an offer.

When we were well out of hearing range of the den, I asked, "Where's Alfred and Leslie?"

"Kitchen. She's taking the rest of dinner to the Clinic."

"Ah."

At the coat closet, he stood and watched as I donned my leather jacket. I half-expected him to remain silent, but to my surprise he asked, "What's come up?"

I buttoned the jacket to the middle of my chest, "A possible suspect in one of my cases." Who was I kidding. Everything else on my desk was closed, every pointless case since and before Alicia was in black on the board, just like everyone else's. There were two redballs and one was mine.

Bruce spoke quietly, "The girl?"

I nodded slightly and walked a few steps towards the door, "Yeah."

"There's a score of detectives working that---."

Without a thought, I interrupted him, my voice on the edge of being angry, "And I'm the primary, Bruce. We've had nothing for weeks... It would seem pretty dumb if I wasn't there to head things now."

He followed me and in a few strides, he was in front of me, reaching for the doorknob. I stepped out just as a sharp wind passed by, drawing a slight shiver from me. I suddenly wondered what the low for the night was going to be. It was amazing what sub-freezing weather did to crime levels in Bludhaven.

On some level, I wanted to say good-bye to him, or to at least end on a nicer note, but I didn't want to look back at him. There had been one single thought that had coursed my mind since I stepped out of the alley. After I had sketched that small, rain-soaked corpse on my rain sodden note pad. It was more than the fear that I had stomached, the fear that I had missed something vital that would have allowed me to put the case down by then.

It was the thought that if Bruce had been handed the case, if it had been a child on his streets in Gotham... He would have been able to solve it.

And I wouldn't.

"Dick, at least stay so we can talk."

I hesitated slightly and then continued on to my car, "About what?" I then heard his footsteps, quickly down the stairs and across the drive. When I felt his hand on my shoulder, I spun around and swiped it away, "What, Bruce? What do you want from me?"

"I want you to think about what you're doing to yourself."

Low blow.

"What I'm doing to myself, Bruce? How about Bruce, what about what you're doing to yourself?"

"I'm not working myself into the ground for nothing."

I had to use every inch of what strength I had left not to hit him. "For nothing? The child's death is on my shoulders, Bruce, until I find the sonofabitch that did it."

I heard the door open and looked up to see Selina stepping through. Bruce ignored it and stepped closer to me, "Listen to me, Dick. It's only on his shoulders, not yours, you know that. Don't blame yourself for something you didn't do."

"That's the point," I growled before moving to the driver's side door, "I didn't do something. I didn't solve this case." I got in, fired the ignition and shifted into reverse. Bruce backed away towards the steps where Selina stood, arms wrapped around herself. As he reached her side, she pressed a hand against his arm.

I tried to tell myself that the reason I sped all the way back home was because I was excited about the possibility of an actual suspect. But even that wasn't true, I just wanted to get away from all of them. After spending months in the darkness of my life, seeing everyone happy and carefree was to much to handle. And to top it all off, the whole night, I couldn't help but notice their sad looks, their thoughts practically plastered on their faces, their eyes saying everything. I was a failure...

I took the stairs up to the fifth floor quick enough to add a few more beats to my pulse. In less than a half hour, I would consume at least two cups of coffee, review the records of Mr. Cayhill and then have a nice long chat with the former convict and current proprietor of the Fish Mart. All in the dank, mildew ridden, fluorescent lit, claustrophobic atmosphere of the near ancient Bludhaven Police Department.

My home.

V

Sorry for the delay, folks, midterms and fic writing don't mix.