Title: One And Only: XII

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: Thanks everyone for reading, and an even bigger thanks to Chris for keeping me focused and entertained.

A/N 3: Is anyone else as psyched (read: obsessive) as I am about Batman Begins?

V

Clank.

"Whoo."

Pop.

Clank.

After the tenth rep, I pulled my hands free from the rubber grips of the bar on the Nautilus bench press and slowly sat up, listening carefully for a full minute. Silence.

Selina had taken Mattie for the morning to the Roberson Museum to check out the grand opening of the new Children's Discovery Center. Shortly after breakfast, I had watched them drive off and was then surprised when Alfred announced he was going into town to run a few errands. With the house to myself, I had tried to act occupied by reading the Sunday paper and real estate journals that I hadn't gotten to that week. By ten-thirty I had read everything I could find and had finished off the pot of coffee in the kitchen.

A quick trip upstairs and a change of clothes later, I had holed up in the second floor gym room. With Selina and Mattie due back a little after one and dinner reservations at six, I reasoned it would be my only chance for a quiet workout for the rest of the day.

I had warmed up with floor exercises and stretches, followed by a few sets of crunches and push-ups. When I rose, I was between a rack of free weights and a Nautilus pressing machine. As I sat on the bench, I reasoned with myself that it was because the machine was more balanced and better calibrated for the work and that since I was by myself, it was better to err on the side of caution. Not that it was easier on my shoulder joints than the free weights.

Clank as I pressed up on the bar and the weights shifted

"Whoo," as I forced air out through my mouth.

Pop as the scapular cartilage rotated.

Clank as I brought the bar back down.

After nearly an hour of solitude, I took my break and heard them long before I saw them. Soft voices echoed in the hall and it only took a second to recognize them as Cassandra and Tim. Selina had mentioned how much time they had been spending together lately and how "cute they were".

Although relationships between our sorts were strongly discouraged, I was unsure as to when I would interfere, or rather if. Both were adults and both were certainly more mature than Dick and Barbara when they had begun a relationship. Aside from that, it was difficult for me to cast stones when I had found a connection in a certain masked individual…

Tim's faded shirt and shorts clad figure stepped into the room first and paused when he saw me, "Hey, didn't know you were up here… We can come back if you want."

I wiped down the seat and moved to adjust the weights on the Pectoral Adductor/Abductor, "It's fine," I said before taking a seat and pressing my forearms against the pads.

Cass entered as well, dressed in a Lycra tank top and running shorts. I watched out of the corner of my eye as they stretched quickly before taking on the treadmills that sat side-by-side facing the rear window. I began working myself, trying not to think how I had taught Mattie to use the treadmill a few weeks ago. Selina had found us as I had been cooling down while Mattie was just getting warmed up. She had walked up next to me and kissed my cheek before whispering, "To have the endless energy of a six-year-old once more…"

The winter weather had ended the soccer and riding for her so she needed an outlet for her energy that remained indoors. She was probably the only six-year-old that had an exercise program, although she thought of it only as time spent with me. Her favorite activity, however, was tumbling on the mats, practicing handstands, cartwheels and round-offs. Dick had taught her quite a few maneuvers over the summer, and had commented that, "Give her to me for a few months and she'll be ready for the circus."

Clank. Whoo. Pop. Clank.

Crunch.

My lip twitched downward slightly as I pulled my arms down off of the press pads, the left one slower than the right. I chanced a look over at Tim and Cass and watched as they had begun to increase their speed on the treadmills as well as the incline. Preoccupied, thankfully. I had dislocated both of my shoulders several times in my life, but the left one had suffered a slight torsion in the supraspinatus ligament two years earlier when a grapple had dislodged from its hold on a gargoyle and had resulted in a harsh save on my part. I had landed shoulder first into a brick wall in a desperate attempt to grab onto the window ledge. I had been in a sling for a week and a half out of the required four weeks and it never healed quite right.

Even still it caught me off guard when the scarred tissue reminded me of its presence.

I gave myself a five second break before finishing the last set of fifteen reps. Instead of focusing on the pain in my shoulder, I watched Tim and Cassandra as they slowed their gait and began to cool down. Being on the other side of the room, it was difficult to hear their conversation over the whir of the treadmill and the creaking of my joints and it didn't help matters that they were facing away from me.

Shortly after Tim had started school last fall, we had adjusted his routines considerably. He had been more than glad to take on the extra work, feeling he could use it after a fairly quiet summer. As a result, his mass had taken surprising increase that had been beyond what I had expected.

Cassandra hit his arm suddenly, causing him to lose a step. When he regained his stride he shook his head before motioning to the door with his left hand. Cassandra shrugged and turned the machine off before stepping off it. A moment later, Tim did the same and followed her out the door. He was halfway through before pausing, "We're going downstairs for a while… Spar for a bit."

After the last rep, I stood and nodded.

When he was gone, I sat back down again, eyes closed and massaged what muscles I could reach on my shoulder. Maybe after dinner, I could get Selina to work out the knots in my back… No, I thought, better to do it after patrols were done.

"Am I interrupting?"

I opened my eyes to see Selina at the doorway with a bottle of water. She walked over to me and sat on my lap before I could make a move to stand up. When I reached for the water bottle, she held it away from me and asked, "What's the magic word?" After kissing her cheek I whispered in her ear and she laughed, "Close enough… Did you have lunch yet?" she asked as she gave me the bottle."

I took two quick sips, gave it back to her and then rested my head against her collarbone as her arms slipped around my neck, "No." Her fingers traced a shoulder blade and found the one spot I couldn't reach, "When did you get back?"

"Few minutes ago. We picked up this magnetic kit, she's testing her stuffed animals for magnetism in her room. We also went to Armand's. Brought you home some rigatoni."

"Thanks."

Her hand stopped rubbing my back as she pressed her lips against my brow, a mere inch from a faint, round scar, "You all right?"

"Fine."

Selina uncapped the bottle, "I'll drink to that."

After a moment of silence, I asked her, "I've been wondering… How long I should let it go on?"

She resumed rubbing my shoulder, "What? You're insanity? That really long gray hair that pokes out of the back of your neck?"

I almost reached up to feel the back of my neck but resisted. "Tim and Cassandra."

"What?" she pushed away from me slightly and our eyes locked, "You must be some kind of arrogant, self-centered… Never mind."

"I'm serious, Selina."

Her eyes hardened slightly, "And I'm not?" A pair of soft hands cupped either side of my jaw as two sharp thumbnails grazed the skin covering my jugular vein, "Promise me you won't interfere."

Grunt.

"Promise me."

I grunted again and tried to look away from her.

The pressure on my throat increased, "Bruce."

"Don't push it…" after a sudden pinch on my throat, I continued, "Fine."

Another kiss on my forehead and she was up off my lap and headed towards the door. When she looked back and asked if I was coming, I nodded and rose, "Yes, dear."

V

"Again."

"You sure? You're bleeding…"

I wiped a smear of blood from under my nose and then rubbed it off on my shirt, "It's fine."

Cass shrugged and said, "Whatever," before taking a side step and balancing her stance offensively. I spread my own two feet to a wider base and took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever she was about to dish out.

She came at me suddenly, a flying roundhouse that I dodged effortlessly but it was followed by a chop to my neck that I barely blocked. I moved forward the second her hand hit my forearm, planning to set her off balance in order to knock her down. Instead, her hand latched on to my arm and she bent over slightly, using my momentum to flip me on to my ass.

It wasn't a second later that I jumped back on my feet, ready for more.

"This isn't very productive," she said as she turned her back to me, fluidly moving into a handstand.

"It is. It's exactly what I need."

Cass proceeded to bear her weight on one hand before responding, "Getting beat up?"

"You're not beating me up," I snapped.

She flipped back up on to her feet and walked over to me casually before pressing her finger to my upper lip, pulling it back smeared in red and holding it front of my face, "I think I am."

I smirked slightly before lashing out and snagging her wrist and twisting her arm behind her back. My other arm came around her front and locked around her throat, pulling her back to me. She muttered something that sounded like "Are you kidding me?" before head butting my jaw and elbowing me in the side of the neck and in my side below my ribs at the same time.

I held fast and replied, "I think I am."

Being the gentleman that I tried to be, I relented and let her go. We had been sparring for a little less than an hour, neither of us truly winning a match. I still remembered back when she had first joined our work, how she could have me pinned on the mats in the blink of an eye. I had always figured it was because I was a lesser combatant but she had explained to me that it was the way I perceived a fight. With her help, I had been able to learn her skill of predicting an opponent's move almost as good as she.

Then again I knew I would never be quite as good, simply because the man who had taught her had done so to turn her into the ultimate assassin.

"Water?"

I looked over at her to see her offering a bottle of water. I took it and chugged a bit before glancing at the computer bay, "Shall we?"

She wiped her face with a towel and then threw it at me, "After you."

Crossing the cold stone floor from the training area to the upper level computer console took a long silent five minutes. When we arrived, I looked at the single chair and offered for her to take a seat. Cass shook her head and planted herself on the thick arm of the chair. After letting out a breath, I sat in the chair and went to town on the keyboard.

In light of an unusual spike in criminal activity, Batman had decided that in order for the major problems to each receive attention, it was best to split the caseload. He was working on a drug ring that involved production sites in Columbia, packaging in Gotham and distributing up and down the east coast. Cass and I had taken on an unusual pattern of missing persons that we had collectively traced back to the beginning of January.

There were twenty-one young women reported missing within the last two and a half months, all of which had similar build, characteristics, as well as age. Originally, we had suspected some sort of sexual predator in Gotham, but none of the women ever showed up, either dead or alive. This meant either whoever was taking these women was storing them, most likely dead, or was sending them out of the city. Last week, Cass had suggested a possibly black-market slavery trade and we were currently working along those lines.

After a few keystrokes, I brought up a map of Gotham that was marked with the last known whereabouts of the missing women. For the most part, each had been on the eastern side of the city, with only four of them being more central and two on the western side. Unfortunately, the eastern side of the city happened to be larger with far too many dark corners for us to search alone.

"Bring up the list again," she said softly.

I keyed it in and a second later the spreadsheet we had filled in popped up. It had been a listing of all the top clubs, bars and restaurants in Gotham that were in a one mile radius of each of the last known sighting locations. Needless to say, it was quite an inventory.

"Where do we even begin?" I muttered.

"Top of the list," she answered as she pointed the cursor at the first name: 7 Deadly Sins. It wasn't uncommon to hear the club's name and address over the scanners at night for one of the many fights or robberies that they suffered.

"You sure you want to do this?"

She shrugged, "I don't think you would look good in a skirt."

I laughed a bit and sat back in the chair. We had decided to start staking out some of the high-activity clubs for unsavory characters, and the best way was to get right into the thick of things. For the next few days, we were to stakeout a selection of locations; get the regular flow of people down and to look out for anything out of the ordinary. Then, after a few costume selections and a well-placed wire, Cass would be going undercover into the clubs by the end of the week.

At least if anyone tried to make a move on her, I felt comfortable knowing she could put him into traction at Mercy General.

… "Are you listening to me?"

I looked up at her, "What?"

"I asked when you wanted to meet tonight. To head out."

After I closed my eyes I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Not sure. I'll check in with you at the Clocktower, go from there."

Cass slipped off of the arm of the chair and nodded, "Sounds like a plan."

"Wait, where are you going?" I asked as she headed for the stairs, "We have to figure things out for tonight."

She turned her head slightly, "Can't think on an empty stomach."

Logical.

When I rose from the chair, she was already on the fifth step. I took a few quick strides and was soon at her side. As we paused before the entrance, I unlocked it and opened it before offering, "After you."

Upon reaching the kitchen, we realized that Alfred had yet to return, as the bounties of groceries he was off purchasing were clearly absent. There were, however, a few pieces of coffee cake left from the other day and we quickly went to work on making them disappear.

"So I was thinking we could work our way north, start off at the Sin Club, then go up to at least 59th and Harrington."

Her brows arched, "That's ten clubs."

When I shrugged I moved off of the stool and opened the refrigerator in search of something to wash down the cake with. I retrieved a glass carafe of milk and said, "Wear your dancing shoes." Just as I placed the glass to my lips, I felt my conscience tug at the back of my mind, reminding me that I was not in my own home. When I saw Cass's eyes widen, I thought at first it had been because she knew the ramifications of my actions, especially since she lived with Barbara, who was known for vacuuming her vacuum cleaner off.

So when I heard Bruce clear his throat from behind me, it took all of my wits to keep from dropping the milk and spitting what I had in my mouth all over the floor.

I stood frozen in place as he entered the kitchen, reached behind me for a small brown paper bag that was in the still opened refrigerator and then crossed the floor to retrieve a knife and a fork from the drawer. Just as I turned to see him head for the door, he said, "I'd finish that milk up if I were you, Alfred's pulling up the driveway."

Cass's laughter didn't help any as I guzzled frantically. I managed to rinse the glass out and set in the dishwasher before dashing back to the stool just as the service entrance door opened. As Alfred walked in, Cass pointed to her own upper lip and I wiped mine quickly, removing possibly the biggest milk moustache I had sported since fifth grade.

"Ah, Master Timothy, Miss Cassandra, what, pray tell, are you up to this lovely afternoon?" he asked as he entered the room, a paper bag in one arm with a head of celery sticking out.

When I caught his slight wink, I smiled and stood, "Why, I was hoping to help bring in the groceries."

"Wonderful," he set his bag on the counter and continued, "There are twelve more bags in the Town Car, and mind the eggs, Maser Timothy."

I headed for the door and looked back when Cass didn't follow me. She glanced at the clock on the wall, "Yikes. Have to get back," then she smiled at me, "Later." My hopeful smiled for her help quickly faded into a scowl as she commented Alfred on the cake before departing. Leaving me alone with twelve bags of groceries.

Boy Wonder, master of carrying perishables and non-perishable alike in both paper and plastic.

V

"Did you get lost?" I asked.

Cass, who had just walked into the den, shrugged, "Had a lot to do."

She had gone up to the Manor to work with Tim on getting their case's information ready for their preliminary investigations prior to the undercover work they had planned for later in the week. It surely was a tough case to work, even with the both of them on it. It had been unfortunate that we hadn't caught it earlier, hoping to spare what few lives we could have.

Then again, as Batman had said, it wasn't all that obvious to begin with. Young woman, ages seventeen to twenty-two going missing is unfortunately not all that uncommon. Run-aways, college dropouts or even moving out of the city in hopes for a better life could have been why each one was no longer accounted for. But the numbers of girls missing and the similar characteristics had finally suggested something more fowl than scaring Mom and Dad but taking the train to Metropolis for a week or so.

After slipping off her shoes by the door, Cass walked in and took a seat on the sofa. I was sitting on the carpet, surrounded by newspapers and magazines all featuring a variety of stories and pictures but all with a similar theme.

The cover of Time magazine was a full color image of the first gunman to fall in the Bludhaven Bank Shootout that took place two weeks ago. The gunman himself, who was aiming in the general direction of the camera, was not in complete focus, but the background was clear as crystal. Covered by a low brick wall, Dick's form stood out amidst the fresh snow and light surroundings as it was cloaked in the dark coat and suit beneath it. Perhaps what stood out the most in the photograph was the determined look on his face, the clarity in his eyes and the sure grip he head on the Beretta.

Taken by a photographer that had followed the daring cameraman that had videoed the event, the picture was up for the Pulitzer and had been seen in papers around the nation.

I had saved every single article and picture out of morbid fascination of documenting the event and its effects. The city budget for Bludhaven has already been challenged with proposals for more powerful weaponry for all patrol cars in the city in addition for more officers to be trained in SWAT methods. Those who were in SWAT already had made it to the scene just in time to see the regular officers bring down the second suspect. In fact, the man who had been traced as the official shooter of the second gunman had in fact been Dick's quasi-partner, Trey Richardson.

Dick, Trey and two other officers were scheduled to receive the Medal of Valor in a ceremony that was to take place two weeks later. I could only imagine how Dick felt about that, being rewarded for killing a man.

"You have the Press Sun?"

I looked up to see Cass eyeing the Sunday paper. As much as she disliked reading, she had finally found something that she enjoyed: the classifieds and Dear Abby. After folding it, I handed her the newspaper and began to pick up my clippings, "Was Bruce up there? This morning, did you see him?"

She nodded as she flipped through the pages, "Just for a bit… Cool…"

I looked up, "What?"

She flipped the page she was looking at so I could see it as she pointed to a part of the classifieds, "Great Dane puppies. Only a thousand dollars."

I rolled my eyes as she smiled. She had been fighting the uphill battle of getting a pet for nearly a year. On her birthday in January, she had even been daring enough to bring home a stray cat, of which I promptly had her take it to a shelter. I told her fish were great pets and before I knew it she had dragged me to an exotic fish store in hopes to buy a piranha.

"Do you know how big Great Danes get to be?" I asked her.

She nodded, "Big dog. Guard dog."

"More like couch dog. Not much around here to guard."

I heard her sigh before she went back to reading the paper.

Once I had the scraps of paper picked up and the clippings safely tucked into a binder, I set everything on the end of the coffee table before pushing myself back up into my chair. I then released the brakes, grabbed the binder and scraps and made my way down the hall and into my bedroom. Just as I reached my door, I heard Cass call out, "Aussie Shepherd for 500, already trained to heel livestock!"

"In your dreams," I muttered. After I set my belongings on my dresser, I made my way to the bedside table and retrieved the phone from its cradle. I punched in ten digits and held my breath as it began to ring.

Ring. Ring. Ring. "This is Dick Grayson, I'm currently dazed and confused so leave a message and I'll get back to you later."

Beep.

"Dick, you there?… Dick?"

Suddenly his voice interrupted, "Hey."

"Screening our calls now?" I asked, doing my best to sound friendly.

He paused, "No, I was sleeping."

I glanced at my watch and frowned to see it was quarter of two. Then again, what else was he supposed to do with his time? Following the shootout, he had been put on two weeks of paid, but forced, vacation time, or as Dick had called it "an evaluation period so they know I'm not crazy". Had the shootout taken place at any other time of year, he had said that it wouldn't have been a big deal. But, since it followed the unsuccessful conclusion of such a tragic case, his superiors were playing it safe in handling his stress load. His superior had even threatened to have him arrested if he was within a one mile radius of headquarters.

"Hear about the photograph?" I asked him.

He sighed, "Yeah. Should have shaved that morning… Look like a regular old madman in a trench coat. But at least my hair looked nice…" he said, his voice eerily flat and dull.

There was a soft beep and I grimaced, "Hang on, Dick, I have someone on the other line."

"Fine."

I switched over, "Hello?"

"Hi, Barbara, it's me," Selina answered, "You have any plans tonight?"

"Not really, why?"

"Alfred was supposed to watch Mattie for Bruce and I tonight but it turns out he has plans with Leslie… And I know it's last minute but…"

"Oh, sure, Mattie's no problem. When are you coming into town?"

She spoke, relief coming through her voice, "Around six. So we would probably drop her off a little before, maybe quarter of. She should be pretty tuckered out, we went to Roberson for the morning…"

"Okay, well, we'll see you later."

"Thanks, Barbara, I owe you Prada."

I laughed and said good-bye before switching back to Dick. Just as I was about to tell him I had returned, I heard the annoying dial tone on the receiver. He had hung up. As I set the phone back down in its cradle, I resisted the urge to call him back. As much as I wanted to be there for him, I knew he needed his space, his own time to think things through. I knew the feeling all too well, I thought as I sat back into my chair.

When I returned to the den, Cass picked up on the change in my disposition instantly and asked what was up. I forced a slight smile and told her that Mattie was coming over later while Bruce and Selina were out. She smiled as well, although I knew hers wasn't for show.

V

It had been a good plan, considering that confronting Bruce about any sensitive topic generally lead to drawn out disputes where no one emerged victorious.

And it almost worked.

First, dinner was fabulous as we had the best table in Dorsea, the one in the upper left corner that was on a slightly raised level and had those gorgeous iron detailed windows that overlooked the Park. From there, we had driven to Fifth and Brady, parked in a private lot, and then toured the streets on foot for nearly a half hour, my arm hooked around his. I pointed through windows at Gucci at the dress I had tried on last week and he had smirked to himself, most likely picturing the form-fitting black gown on my body.

Just as we returned to the car, I asked him, "Have you thought about going to see him, yet?"

He opened my door for me and I paused before slipping in as he asked, "See who?"

My brow rose, "You know who."

"Not this again…" he muttered as he walked around the front of the car and got in the driver's seat.

"How bad could it be?" I asked, "Just to go and check in on him. Drop in to say 'Hello, Goodbye' and then come home. Call him, if you don't want to waste the gas-."

"It's not that simple, Selina," he said softly as he turned the key and put the car into reverse.

"Then explain it to me, Bruce, because apparently I don't see the complexity of the situation."

He was silent until we were out on the street, "He needs his space. That's why he moved to Bludhaven."

"A different zip code doesn't change the fact that he's still your son, Bruce, not to mention the fact that he is most likely in a desperate need of guidance."

He through me a harsh glance, "Then perhaps he should come to me."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, his voice and reaction to my inquiry well beyond what I had expected. To push it meant certain arguing and a very long ride home. However, to sit on it only meant the topic would be discussed later, of which would be just as bad. It was ridiculous trying to argue with Bruce, both of us being the most dogmatic individuals I had ever come across in my life. It made me wonder how Alfred had survived his teenage years. Oh, to hell with it…

"Why are you mad at him?"

I waited as he drew a long breath and remained silent. When I looked over at him, his hands were tight on the steering wheel and the shift stick and his eyes were frozen in position staring out at the street. Finally, he replied, "I'm not mad at him. It's… complicated."

I moved in the seat as to face him better, "You keep saying that, Bruce, but it's not. He needs support right now, from you I might add, to get through this… whatever he's going through. Simple as that-."

"It's no-."

"Damnit, Bruce, just listen to me…" He glanced over at me briefly before looking straight again. "You two have barely spoken since May… And when you have it's never ended on a good note. You've been punishing him ever since his promotion by shutting him out."

He decelerated quickly as he came upon a red light, making no move to respond. Because my words were true.

Shortly before Memorial Day the summer before, Dick had announced his upward movement into a second-class detective position, one of the youngest in years at Bludhaven Police Department. Where we had all congratulated him on his efforts and accomplishments, Bruce had yet to say a word about it, even months later. I remembered pulling Dick aside the afternoon that he had come up to the Manor to tell us and had done my best to show him how happy we were for him. He had nodded slowly while watching Bruce leave the room, the pride he had arrived with all but gone.

And it seemed that everything else had spawned from that very afternoon. His break up with Barbara, his increased workload at the department, hell, his obsession with that murder case. Add the shootout and his sudden rocket launch into the spotlight of a situation he would have done anything to avoid…

"I'm not mad at him," he said suddenly, "I'm… I don't know what I am. It's almost been two weeks, with constant exposure of the… It still… doesn't even seem real to me. I know what he did, I know why he did it and even still I can't accept it," a car honked from behind us and we both looked to see the light had turner. Before he pressed on the gas, he spoke quietly, "I won't."

I let a moment pass before I reached out and put my hand on his arm, "Then help him accept it, Bruce. Yes, he's his own man, and yes, he's living his own life, but don't wait until it's too late to do something."

The remainder of the drive to the Clocktower was silent. I went in and picked up Mattie and her belongings while Bruce remained in the car parked out front. She was in a state of half-sleep and was softly snoring in the back seat by the time we merged onto the Bristol exit. He didn't even utter a sound when he carried her up to her room once we got home and tucked her into bed before heading down into the Cave.

A silent Bruce meant one of two things.

Either he was brewing a great plan of action against whatever foe was in his sights.

Or he was remorseful for his actions.

V

I was just approaching the completion of the third chakra in my meditation when I smelt barbeque sauce and pizza. I partially lifted the lid of my left eye and scanned Barbara's den.

Nothing.

The Clocktower had been fairly busy that evening, especially when Mattie was there. Barbara had agreed to sit for them while out at dinner, of which I was glad to hear. I rarely had time on the weekends to be with her and after spending so much time with her when she was younger…

Not fifteen minutes after Selina had called about sitting, the Commissioner had called asking for Barbara. When she was done talking with him, she told me he had invited her to dinner and wanted to know if I could sit for her. No problem. Mattie had eaten before coming into town so the two hours we were together was spend playing video games and then some tumbling in the Training Room. She loved it when I did back flips and round offs, but from what I could tell, she wasn't far off from doing them herself. When Selina showed up a little after seven, Mattie was exhausted and certainly ready for bed.

And as the door shut behind them, I had the place to myself.

I had used chakra meditation on and off for years before going on patrols. I had narrowed the seven centers of focused energy down to the big three: the navel for power, the heart for balance and the third eye for wisdom and premonition. But no power or balance or wisdom could conquer the aroma of Frankie's Barbeque Chicken Pizza.

"Cass?" I heard from the foyer. I opened my left eye further just in time to see Tim walk in with a cardboard pizza box and a two bottles of Cherry Coke. When he saw me, he paused in mid-step and said, "Oh…"

"Minute," I mumbled softly as a finished the concentration and then brought my vitals up back to normal with deeper, quicker breathing. In fifty-five seconds I blinked a few times and then stretched before standing, "Dinner?"

He nodded and then walked towards the kitchen, "Where's Barbara?"

I followed him quietly, "Out to dinner with her father. She should be back before nine though."

I found two plates and napkins as he set the pizza on the stovetop. I put the soda in two glasses with ice while he dished out the slices. Instead of eating in the dining room, where we would most likely get something dirty and then get yelled at for it, we pulled out two stools from the pantry and sat at the counter top.

Dinners at Barbara's were always interesting. I preferred them to be up at the Manor, but every once in a while she decided to play hostess. And after a few times, it was certain to all of us that as soon as dessert and coffee were done, it was wise to make an urgent excuse for departure.

In order to avoid small talk or even worse, Full Contact Pictionary…

"So what was so urgent that you had to bail out on me?" he asked after rinsing his mouth with soda.

I smirked and shrugged casually, "I had Yoga and then I had a paper to write… And a shower… A nap too."

"Right. So much for being there for one another… Those were twelve seriously full bags of food."

I nibbled on the crust, "Well, it's good you did it, not make Alfred do all the work."

He rolled his eyes and I laughed softly. We had an inside joke about being there for one another that had started two years ago. We had come across a group of teenagers stealing vast quantities of paint from a storage room at a local school. Their intentions were to paint obscenities all over the exterior of the school and on the sidewalks. When we showed up, they had painted in big red letters "skool sux as…" and then promptly sprinted off when they saw us. Robin had been backing up while watching the hoodlums run frantically down the street when he had slipped on the wet paint and landed on a five-gallon tub of red paint.

Needless to say, he spent rest of the week trying to get paint out of his hair. And ears. When he had asked why I hadn't warned him, I found a cardboard box that the boys had taken as well, containing brushes and rollers. I found a plastic hanging sign and hooked it around his neck before reading it aloud, "Fresh paint. Ye be warned."

As I reached for the third slice, I looked up and caught him staring at me. He quickly looked over at his glass and picked it up as a distraction. I had to admit, as things were better between us, they weren't altogether quite right. Having been able to read body language for nearly my entire life, it wasn't difficult to see how nervous he was at times when he was around me. It wasn't that he was afraid to act on his feelings; I felt that he was afraid of the consequences for doing so if things didn't turn out right.

Men.

To get his mind of his problems, I asked, "So did you get the list figured out?"

"List?"

"Of clubs, for tonight," I elaborated.

Tim nodded, "Right. I have them all figured out, location wise, so when we patrol over there we just need to check out the possible lookout locations, for, um… concealment."

After a quick bite, I replied, "Good. Did you tell him?"

His left eyebrow twitched, "I told him the general area so he knew where we had things covered."

I switched the topic again, "Did you want to see the outfits I had planned for the undercover work… I saw a few in town, I might buy. Fit the part well."

His Adam's apple bobbed a few times as his mouth fought to stay closed. It had been hilarious when we had first discussed what attire would be suitable. He had done his best to remain polite while telling me I had to dress like a skank. I smiled thinking how his cheeks had turned red when he had gotten onto the topic of how I should act while undercover.

What had been the term he had used… Provocative.

When he didn't respond, I asked, "So, do you want to see them?"

"Th-them?" he stammered.

I rolled my eyes as I slipped off of the stool, "The outfits… for the disguise."

He shook his head quickly, "That's okay, I'm sure you can pick something that will be fitting… for the part, and fit you of course… Since they are your clothes and all…" The faintest tinge of red crept over his ears. He needed to shut up. Fast.

Unlike Tim, I could think while acting, not requiring the downtime of doing so before taking an action. So as I paused next to him, I knew what was coming as my perception slowed time to a crawl. It was useful in combat, being able to break down the various moves of an opponent in order to predict the next one.

If only Tim could have predicted that my next move wasn't to reach for the last slice, but place my lips on his.

Eight and a half seconds. An eternity. A blink of an eye.

I as I backed away, he stood, eyes wide with disbelief. I knew he wasn't angry in the least, more like shocked as to what had happened. Instead of watching him watch me with that dumb look on his face, I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall towards my room.

Sans mask, I had all but suited up by the time he had followed my tracks. He looked a bit more relaxed, almost happy in fact. I watched as he bit his lip before saying, "If you wanted the last piece, all you had to do was ask."

Hands on my hips, I asked, "Is that so? What if I just took it?"

"That would be stealing," he retorted.

"Possession is nine/tenths of the law," I shot back, doing my best not to smile.

He stepped closer, "I paid for it."

"You offered."

Tim paused, then said softly as he closed the gap between us, "Then, you accepted."

"Tomato."

"Tomahtoe."

"Do you always have to be this difficult?" he asked as he carefully put a hand over mine as it rested on my hip.

"Do you have to be so?"

Twenty-nine seconds. Eternity times ten. Far cry from a blink of an eye.

V