Title: One And Only: XVIII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the (what is now, I guess) the Time Will Tell Series. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: T (AKA The Rating Formerly Known As PG-13 ;) )

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: Jim Gordon's new friend is influenced by the "character" Spike seen in Jonathan Kellerman's Alex Delaware novels.

He he he… crossword puzzle… You'll get it, just read.

V

My doctor said to help keep the old ticker ticking and to help keep my legs strong that I should walk fifteen miles a day in five mile increments. Most of the time, I had a three-mile walk first thing in the morning and a two-mile walk after dinner at my own pace. On a rare occasion I wanted company, I picked up Barbara and we toured Robinson Park together.

Now I had more company than I wanted.

Living alone had been something I had grown to learn to deal with. After years of aggravation and over stimulation as a cop in both Chicago and Gotham, a failed marriage and an abruptly ended marriage, the peace and quiet one could only obtain from solitude was priceless. Unfortunately, my daughter thought it was silly for me to be holed up all alone in the house, especially after my retirement.

Her solution: a French bulldog named Frank.

Apparently, he had been a stray that Cassandra had brought home one evening three weeks earlier. After Barbara had him checked out at the veterinarian and no claim of ownership was made after the necessary two weeks of found ads in the paper, she dropped him and his squeaky newspaper toy off on my front door.

He was twenty-eight pounds of black brindled muscle packed into a compact stout body and flat-faced head. His ears pricked upright when you poured his kibble into a bowl and whenever you opened the refrigerator. For the most part he was all right, after all he was house broke, heeled and chased the neighbor's cats off of my front porch. But even still, solitude did not include having a snorting, grunting black mini-bull dog.

But having him under my care did alter my daily schedule. I walked all fifteen miles every day, in five-mile increments at six in the morning, two in the afternoon and eight in the evening. Good for my heart, but it also made Frank sleep more.

We had just returned from our morning walk, of which was only four miles. Halfway through, I felt my toe poke through the end of my sock and decided it wasn't worth the torturous itching to finish the fifth mile.

With the news playing on the living room television, I poured coffee into a blue mug after popping a bagel in the toaster oven. Waiting for the timer, I sighed as I measured out a cup of dog food from the small green bag on the counter and poured it into a ceramic dog bowl that was a similar hue as my coffee mug. Frank was perched on his haunches at my feet, a thin lace of drool making its way from his flews to the floor. I set the bowl down and watched on as the feeding frenzy ensued. For such a little guy he had quite the appetite.

As the kitchen filled with crunching and soft grunts of effort, the phone rang. I walked over to the portable that hung on the wall and picked up on the second ring, wondering as to who would be calling at seven in the morning, "Hello?"

"Dad? It's me."

I smiled, always glad to hear Barbara's voice, "Sweetheart, what are you doing up this early?"

"To tell you the truth, Dad, I haven't been to bed yet. Was just getting ready to. Wanted to say good morning."

"That's sweet," I commented before asking, "Was it a busy night? I didn't hear much on the scanner…"

"Well, no, it was just that Bruce was on his own, so I spent most of the night routing things out for him and keeping track of the scanner and calls." I asked why he was alone and she explained, "Oh, Tim and Cassandra are camping this week with a few of Tim's friends from college."

I nodded and looked down at Frank as he licked his bowl clean. Before I could respond to her verbally, the timer went off on the toaster. I pulled a knife from the drawer and the cream cheese from the fridge before walking over to retrieve my bagel. "Well, it's a perfect week for it. Did they go far?"

"No, just outside of town, Rockledge State Park. They'll be back Sunday afternoon, I think."

"What about Dick?"

She paused and laughed quietly, "He sprained his ankle yesterday. Tried to jump from one apartment building to the next and slipped on pigeon poo. Leslie will have his head on a silver platter if he shows himself on the vigilante scene for the next two weeks."

I suddenly thought that it was like back in the old days, Bruce handling the city on his own, but kept it to myself.

As I layered my bagel with cream cheese, Frank had sat once more at my feet, eye balling my breakfast with the same focus he had shown when I had poured his meal moments earlier.

"So how's my little man?" Barbara asked, the lightness in her voice a mixture of fatigue and affection for the squat little dog.

I glared down at his unblinking form, "He's fine. And ready for his second breakfast."

I explained how he was begging with a full belly and she laughed, "No wonder he and Dick got along so well. He wanted to keep him but I had a gut feeling that it wouldn't have been long before I was the one taking the dog out in the morning… But you're getting along all right?"

"Sure, he doesn't fight for the remote control, doesn't snore louder than I do and he licks dirty dishes until they sparkle." Although I wouldn't admit it, he was a good companion. I had caught myself more than once talking to him while I picked out clothes for the day or tried to figure out a grocery list. And he had gone from sleeping on a towel in the kitchen to sleeping beside me in bed. But I drew the line at him getting under the covers.

Unless it was a chilly night.

"No, we're getting along just fine… But I better let you get to bed."

She stifled a yawn, "Yeah, I probably should get going. Listen, Dad, are you free Sunday night for dinner? Dick wanted to talk to you about a few things."

"Of course."

She told me what time to come over to her place and added, "I'll even make apple crumb cake."

I laughed softly, "Can't wait. See you then."

"Bye, Dad."

"Bye, sweetheart."

After I hung up the phone, I heard Frank grumble from below. I picked up my coffee and bagel and walked into the living room, the dog right at my heels. When I sat in the leather recliner, he sat before me, brown eyes wide and charming. After the first bite I heard him moan softly. The fourth bite was met with a soft grumble. When I had eaten one half of the bagel, I felt a tiny forepaw on my shin.

As the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, I had been faced the worst the city has to offer without blinking an eye.

As the ex-commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, I had to face the oddly cute mug of a Frenchie and it took all of my strength to keep from hand feeding him my breakfast.

V

"Dad, are you watching!"

I looked over my shoulder and saw him smiling and waving at me from the end of the arena.

This was the first time Dad had come to see me ride in a long time. And what was even better was that Mom was there as well, taking pictures of me as I rode Rusty. He was by far my favorite pony, not only because he was fun to ride and could even bow on cue, but also because of his color. His body was a sandy color and his legs and his mane and tail were black. Janet, my instructor, said it was called a buckskin color, because he also had a black line running down his back.

After making sure Dad was watching, I sat deep in the saddle and squeezed my right leg, the one closest to the rail and made a kissing noise. Not a moment later, Rusty dropped his head slightly and picked up his canter. I loved cantering; it was faster than his bouncy trot and was much easier to sit to.

As I rounded the corner, I aimed Rusty down the long side of the riding ring and smiled. Not many girls my age could ride at the three-beated gait, according to Janet. She said I had a natural balance that made riding that much easier. I told her I did gymnastics with Dick and she said that would help me as a rider. Although I rode almost all year round, in the last month that I had been out of school, I had ridden almost every morning. Mom had even come a few times to ride as well.

Now if only I could convince Dad to buy me a pony…

When I neared the end of the ring where Mom and Dad were leaning against the fence, I pulled back on the reins slightly and put my heels down, "Walk, Rusty."

The pony broke to a trot, causing me to bounce a few times before he settled down to a walk. I steered him to the rail and asked him to stop, of which he did without hesitation, "Did you see me, Dad, did you see?"

He was smiling, "Yes, you did great, kitten."

"He goes even faster if you ask him, Dad, almost galloping!"

"Well," Mom interrupted, "I don't think you should try that out today."

I sighed before reaching over to pat Rusty's shoulder. The pony nodded his head slightly, "You'd like to gallop, wouldn't you boy?"

He nodded again and Mom laughed before saying, "Well, you better walk him out so you can put him up."

"Just one more canter, please, Mom?"

She shook her head, "No, kiddo, he looks pretty tired. And it's too warm outside."

Another sigh. I pulled my feet out to of the stirrup irons and pulled them up before pulling the leather straps through. Once done, I slid my right leg behind me and then hopped onto the ground. When I rode horses in my lessons, I had to use the step stool to get on and off. But with Rusty being shorter, I had no problem getting on an off all by myself. After all, he was only four and a half feet at the highest point in his back.

After I pulled the reins over his head, I lead him around the outdoor ring twice. Mom and Dad talked the entire time but Dad kept his eyes on me. I patted Rusty's neck and said, "I think he's starting like you." The pony nudged me with his muzzle and I laughed. He must be starting to like Dad, too.

It took fifteen minutes for me to untack and brush him off in the barn. Mom and Dad had been there to help me take the saddle and bridle off, but once I started to brush him out, they slipped into the office with Janet. Probably scheduling my next riding lesson. That day had been just for fun, an hour of free riding outside.

I hummed along with the radio that was playing and finished up by kissing Rusty's nose and giving him a few pieces of carrots. Once I put him in his stall and put away his brush box, Dad and Mom had returned and were waiting for me.

"Ready, kitten?" Dad asked.

I nodded as I grabbed my riding helmet off of a wall hook.

"What are we doing now?" I asked as we headed to the door at the end of the barn.

Mom took my hand into hers, "Well, we have to go home, you have to wash up and change, and then we can have lunch if you're hungry."

I patted my stomach, "Sounds good to me."

She smiled back, "I thought it would."

The second we got home I headed upstairs to change into shorts and a tank top and to wash my face and hands. Later that afternoon, I had my first summer soccer practice, so my cleats and shin guards were already laid out on my bedroom floor. Tim and Cass had been coming over most afternoons to practice with me, but instead of goal nets we had small orange cones set up at either end of the back yard.

Since Alfred wasn't back yet from the gardening store, Mom was making lunch. I walked into the kitchen and saw that she was making BLT's. I asked what I could help with and she said I could rip up the lettuce that was in the bowl on the counter. As climbed a stool and rolled up my sleeves, I asked, "Where's Dad?"

"He went upstairs; he'll be down in a minute."

And he was, still dressed in his jeans and polo shirt. He paused beside me and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Chopping lettuce. We're having BLT's, Dad." I lifted a leaf of lettuce towards his face and giggled when he took a bite of it.

"What?" Mom asked, her back to us as she put bread in the toaster.

"Nothing," he said after taking the rest of the lettuce from my hand. I watched as he poured himself a cup of coffee before leaning against the counter, "Were you taking her to soccer?"

I looked over at Mom just in time for her to answer, "Alfred and I are attacking the garden this afternoon. But I can if you can't."

"No, that's all right, I can take her."

I didn't like it when they talked like I wasn't there. It didn't happen that often, but when it did, I hated it.

"What time's practice, kitten?"

I had resumed picking apart the lettuce, "Three to four."

"Perfect. Mind if I stay and watch?"

I shook my head, "Nope."

"You can be the waterboy, Bruce."

He glared at her briefly, but I laughed. It was funny to think of Dad as being in charge of filling cups of cool water for all of my team members. Last summer, the coach and assistant coach couldn't make it so he had to substitute. It had been fun for the most part, lots of running and jumping and stretching. But not enough actual soccer. Halfway through the practice most of my teammates had sat down in the middle of the field, refusing to listen to him.

Maybe being in charge of the water was a job even he could handle.

V

While trimming the rose bushes, I watched on as Ms. Selina mixed plant food into the soil of the flowerbeds. We had been working our way around the house, section by section, preening, planting and enriching the soil. After four hours, our faces were red from the sun and our clothes were gritty with dirt.

She must have noticed how long our efforts had grown to, for she glanced at her watch and sighed, "Whew. Didn't even realize… This house is too damned big."

I chuckled, "My thoughts exactly." After putting my trimming shears in the small utility case that housed the smaller gardening tools, I stood slowly and dusted off my palms and then my trousers. She spread out one more handful of plant food and then removed her gloves, shaking them free of dirt. After she stood herself, I asked, "May I inquire as to when Master Bruce and Miss Mattie will return?"

"Should be soon, actually. Practice let out twenty five minutes ago."

"Ah. And how did the stable adventure fair this morning?"

She smiled shyly and looked over at me, "He did it. He finally bought that pony for Mattie. But his condition was that he was going to be the one to tell her and he would decide when."

"How wonderful of him to do so." Miss Mattie had been infatuated with her equine partner for well over a year now. Pictures of him donned her bedroom walls and she spoke of him whenever she could find a spot for the topic in general conversation. Master Bruce had been weary for some time of actually investing in a mount for her. Fortunately, not only his daughter's pleadings, but his wife's had recently cracked his defensive shell as well.

I volunteered to return the gardening tools to the utility storage located in the rear of the garage. Ms. Selina thanked me and said she would fix iced tea. Before I could state that I could prepare the beverage upon my return, Ms. Selina turned and headed for the rear exit into the Manor.

Ten minutes later, I walked briskly into the kitchenette to see that the cool refreshment was for more than just Ms. Selina and myself. Master Bruce and Miss Mattie had returned from the afternoon's soccer practice at the Bristol Middle School's athletic fields and had joined her in the kitchen for iced tea. After rinsing my hands in the sink and toweling them off, I took a glass of cool tea and sipped gingerly.

"How was it?" Ms. Selina inquired.

After taking a big sip, Miss Mattie smiled, "Great. Katrina's dad is coaching the team this year instead of her mom."

Ms. Selina's brow arched, "Oh. Did he say why?"

"Yep, her mom's having another baby."

The look of happiness that overcame Ms. Selina's features was only challenged by the look of fear that shadowed Master Bruce's. Although the birth of their daughter had been a blessed event, it had also been an unexpected one. Discussion of further procreation had never ended well, and it usually involved Master Bruce retreating to the dark recesses of the Cave. Katrina's mother, as far as I could recall, was a similar age to Ms. Selina, but had two children already, and apparently a third on the way.

"That's great," she commented, her eyes trying to lock with Master Bruce's.

He turned away from her and set his empty glass in the sink, "Mattie, why don't we go upstairs and get washed up and changed for dinner?" The child nodded and then mimicked him by putting her small glass beside his in the sink and then followed him out into the hallway.

After tending to my glass and the two in the sink, I placed the pitcher of tea in the refrigerator and then went about wiping the spotless countertop. I heard Ms. Selina sigh, "Well, I better get washed up and changed too, I guess. I think our reservations are for seven."

I recollected the call I had made to Dorsea three days earlier, "Yes, seven sharp, madam."

"And just what are you going to do with your evening off?" she asked.

"I haven't the foggiest, Ms. Selina. Perhaps a drive about town would be in order."

"Ah yes. To a certain free-clinic run by a certain lady doctor."

I turned to face her, doing my best to keep my expression blank, "I have no idea as to what you are referring to, madam… But it does seem to be a splendid idea."

She took a step towards me, kissed my cheek and then left saying, "Take care Alfred. And behave."

I paused, staring out the broad window that was over the kitchen sink, and then said, "The same to you, Selina…"

V

"Barbara… my ice pack is too cold," I moaned from my chair in the living room.

She growled in response loud enough for me to hear her from the bedroom, "Richard!"

"Well, it is," I mumbled before readjusting the towel wrapped pack on my leg.

In my life, I had done far worse than a sprained ankle. Even still, I was milking my quasi-injury for all it was worth. The bruise from falling on my ass actually was more painful than my sore ankle. Barbara had yet to show any sympathy for my troubles, mostly because she thought it was hilarious that I had slipped on bird crap. That and she knew I wasn't in any real amount of pain, despite my whining.

I sighed in defeat and finished of my bottle of cream soda before setting it on the end table. Not a moment later, Barbara came into the room and paused beside me, doing her best to appear miffed. "You rang?"

"No, it's much warmer now, thanks," I tried a cheesy grin and she rolled her eyes at me. When she asked what I wanted to do for dinner I shrugged, "Take out?"

Barbara leaned against the arm of my chair, "Darling, there are over three hundred delivery service restaurants in the city. From where do you wish to get take out?"

I leaned towards her, gently pressing my nose to hers, "How about one of those three hundred restaurants."

She batted her eyes, "Richard, if you don't choose, I'm going to bite your nose off Hannibal Lecter style."

I bared my teeth in a full grin, "The lady likes red meat. How about Cassidy's Grill, pair of steak burgers, some steak sauce, steak fries and steak… flavored soda."

As she laughed, her nose tickled mine. I leaned in for a quick kiss and told her I wanted my burger rare.

"Oh? I don't think so. How about you order, seeing how your mouth sure hasn't been impended upon by your recent misfortunes on the rooftops." After she handed me the portable phone, she turned and headed back towards the bedroom.

I waited a minute before calling out, "Hey, Babs, why don't I go ahead and order dinner, that way you can take care of whatever it is you have to take care of."

She answered, "Brilliant idea, Dick."

I dialed the long since memorized digits and listened to three quick rings before a young male voice answered, "Cassidy's Bar and Grill."

"Hi, can I get two steak burgers, one rare, one medium rare, two sides of steak fries and two side salads."

"Sure thing. Name please."

"Uh, Grayson. The address is---."

"Sorry, sir, we don't deliver anymore. We do offer a quick carry out."

Great, of the all the restaurants in Gotham, I picked the one that didn't deliver. Time to think on your feet, I told myself. I looked at my bandage wrapped ankle, "Right… You see, my girl friend and I are fairly infirm following a, uh, car accident… and we're both on practical bed rest until September, and I know it would mean the world to Barbara if her first real meal since getting out of the ICU was Cassidy's…"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but---."

"And there would be an extra hundred as a sign of appreciation, in consideration of our dilemma."

I held my breath as no response came. As I bit my lip to keep from laughing, I listened to a muffled conversation on the other end of the line in addition to some sports game on the television and lots of cheering. Finally, after a full minute, "Sir, what was the address again?"

Not thirty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I handed Barbara the money and she went to answer it. I listened silently from the living room as the delivery boy took the money and handed over the food, apologizing profusely for the accident and wishing both of us a speedy recovery. After the door closed, I began snickering uncontrollably while Barbara made her way down the hall towards me. By the time she made it back to the living room, I was laughing so hard that my eyes were on the verge of watering.

"Dick, can I ask what accident he was referring to? And why you gave him a hundred dollar tip?"

I did my best to control myself long enough to answer, "Oh, they don't deliver and I didn't want the hassle of going and picking the food up." I let out a brief laugh before explaining my con. By the end she was laughing as well.

"Well, nothing like a little creativity. Do you want to eat in here or in the dining room?"

I shrugged, "Dining room is all right. Besides, I should get up, get the blood circulating."

As she left to take the food into the next room, I reached for my crutches, watching her as she went. When I was sure Barbara was out of sight, I set the crutches back down and began to push myself out of the chair. I carefully put both of my feet flat on the floor, but bore all of my weight on my good foot. After a deep breath, I stood up and attempted to put weight onto my left foot.

About a ten pounds of pressure, I winced.

About twenty-five pounds, I bit my lip to keep from making a sound.

At fifty pounds, I fell back onto the chair.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best time to test my pain tolerance. I grabbed the crutches and stood. Maneuvering down the hall was easy enough and I stood in the dining room entrance way not a minute after I had started walking. Or hobbling, rather. Barbara had set the brown paper bag emblazoned with the flaming Cassidy's logo on the table, but she was nowhere in sight. I walked through the room and into the kitchen's side entrance and found her getting silverware, plates and wine glasses.

"Ooo, boozing it up are we?" I snickered while swaying back in forth, balancing my weight from one crutch to the other.

She smiled, "Might as well. Selina brought down a bottle of Merlot the other day. Might as well put it to use."

I nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I hear it helps wash down Ibuprofen tablets real swell."

"Like you've been taking them. There's the same number of tablets in that bottle as when I bought it."

I hung my head slightly, studying the tiled floor, "Ah, shucks. I'm busted."

"Be a doll, bring the bottle. It's over by the toaster," she said while placing the dishware in her lap. I did so and followed her back into the den, slightly slower now that I had to juggle crutches and expensive wine. By the time I made it, she had the plates set and was removing the plastic containers from the bag, "Salads too? How health conscious of you."

"Well, the harm from deep fried fries and fat drizzling burgers are cancelled out by a tiny bowl of lettuce, tomatoes and onions, right?"

While we ate, conversation was limited. I hadn't eaten anything since before noon and that had been a bologna sandwich. And knowing Barbara, she had yet to imbibe in anything since her midday granola bar. Halfway through the colossus that was my burger, I put it down, wiped my face and stated, "You know what, I like Cass being gone."

"What?" Barbara asked suddenly, apparently confused by my words.

"Not like that… You know, how we can have time to ourselves, to do things together."

She sipped her wine before asking, "And what kinds of things are you referring to?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, putting together a puzzle, going through the things in Cass's room… Having a nice, cardiac arrest inducing dinner… those sorts of things."

"I see." She picked up a French fry, nibbled on the end of it and put it back down, "Dick, can I ask you something?" I nodded before she elaborated, "Promise not to get mad?"

"Cross my heart."

She folded her napkin and set it beside her plate, of which held a majority of her uneaten meal. Barbara looked up at me and asked, "What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"With your life, what do you want to do?"

I paused for a moment, in hopes to actually think before I spoke. I'd touched on the topic several times but I had never really offered her a definite answer. Three weeks earlier, I had gone back to Bludaven for a night to hang out with the gang from homicide, men and women I used to consider to be my extended family. Being back in that atmosphere, the desperation of unsolved cases battling against good cops who were unwilling to surrender, that I realized how much I had missed it. We had gathered at a bar named O'Reily's, one of a dozen that BPD officers frequented after shifts ended, and I had been asked countless times if I was planning on coming back.

In my absence, they had lost a small handful on the homicide beat, aside from me: Trey Richardson and Grant Morris. Trey had left homicide, despite his promotion, and had joined the ranks of SWAT. Because of his marksmanship, he was quickly learning the ropes of becoming a sniper. And he was in love with a forensic technician named for the Gotham City crime lab, Lindsey Wright.

Grant Morris, The Bear, the man that scared the pants of rookies more than any other senior detective in the history of Bludhaven had retired due to his health. It had been unexpected and unannounced to all of the detectives; as Morris had never seemed anything but healthy and energetic, especially while barking orders and switching desks on April Fool's. Apparently he had been battling a number of ailments in secret, the worst of which was prostate cancer. I had called his home several times since I had gone to the Haven, and he had called back three nights earlier. We had talked for most of the afternoon about his progress and the bullshit that was life. Same old Bear.

Since then, I had taken my future a bit more seriously. So much had changed in the last year alone, that I didn't know where to even begin to settle back into life. Being in Gotham with Barbara had been great, and working patrols at night had been easy compared to Bludhaven. Whenever Barbara had inquired about my plans, I had given her the same nonchalant answer: I don't know yet.

Time to change…

"Well, I have been thinking about it some more… And I've been thinking that maybe the security consultant thing could be worth a try. I mean, it's not like I'm going to loose any money if it flops… And if it pans out, who knows…"

Barbara smiled, "Very well thought out, Dick. Impressive."

I did my best to keep a straight face; "Yeah I thought so, too," I pretended to spit on the floor and then scratched my armpit, "Ought to have a whole shit load of clients in no time."

"There's no doubt in my mind," she said, already starting to laugh. "Hey, you know if you really do this, I bet Dad would love to help."

I picked up the complimentary dill pickle off of my plate and bit off half of it, "Not a bad idea, after all, he has way more contacts in this city than former Detective Dick Grayson." A look came over her face and I asked, "Did you tell him already?"

"No. But I invited him over for dinner tomorrow night."

I sighed and then smiled, knowing if she hadn't done so, I probably wouldn't have been motivated to actually work on anything related to starting up work again.

Barbara added, "You'll have to get a moustache, too, all great detectives have a moustache."

"Yeah to get the babes like Magnum…" I smirked, "That'll have to go in the business plan. Personal expenses: glue on moustache. And a Nightwing mouse pad."

V

I had planned on telling her at some point. I just didn't know when.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Selina through the open bathroom door as she blow-dried her hair. She had just showered after returning from the stable with Mattie. I had also just gotten home from work, traffic out of control with detours from St. James being under heavy construction. Apparently, I was in need of a lecture.

I noticed her lips moving, but a wave of hair and her moving hands prevented me from reading her lips. After a moment, I decided that she was just talking to herself. As I removed my shoes and socks, I was taken aback when she threw a wet washcloth at me.

"What?" I called back while pushing the cloth onto the floor.

She spoke over the blow dryer but I still couldn't make out her words. Instead of having another damp cloth thrown at me for not having super hearing, I stood, walked into the bathroom and unplugged the appliance. She stood straight, flipped her mass of black hair over her head. Before she could reprimand me, I asked, "What were you saying, dear?"

Selina smirked softly, in a way that could either be taken as flirtatious or murderous. "I said, you need to stop torturing your daughter and tell her about that pony."

I sighed, "Okay. I will."

"I mean it Bruce. I had to sit there and watch her talk to his cute little face this afternoon. Had to watch her kiss his nose, tell him that he was her favoritest pony in the whole wide world."

I had been the official owner the Welsh-Connemara cross pony, Rustic Renditions, AKA Rusty, over a week. And I had yet to inform my equine-obsessed daughter that her favorite lesson pony was now hers.

"I will. Tonight after dinner."

"You better," she said as she leaned against me, pushing my backside into the bathroom counter.

"You have my word," I said quietly, deciding her smirk had been a positive sign.

I watched as she nibbled at her lower lip briefly before looking up at me. I leaned in for the kiss I had presumed she had wanted when I heard a soft click from behind me shortly before a hot blast of air went down the front of my pants.

In a quick move, I latched a hand on the blow dryer and my other on Selina's wrist while kicking out to shut the door. I then turned the dryer on my attacker, messing up her hair and blowing at her face. She reached out with her free hand and pulled the plug, laughing and cursing my name at the same time. I released my hold and set the dryer on the countertop before leaning back against it.

"That was mean," she said while fixing her hair.

"You started it."

She was about to respond when we heard a quiet knock on the door, followed by, "Dad? Mom? Are you in there?"

I leaned forward, resting my brow on Selina's shoulder.

"Yes," Selina replied as I began planting my lips on her collarbone "We'll be out in a second."

"Oh… What are you doing in there?"

As I settled my hands on her hips, I kissed the skin just behind her ear.

"Uh, I just got out of the shower, sweetie."

There was a pause then, "But why's Dad in there too?"

I planted a kiss on her lips before retreating so that she could reply, "He had to wash his hands."

"Oh… Okay."

Selina pushed away from me and began combing through her hair as I remained at the counter. She had half of her thick curls tamed before she looked over at me, "Go tell her."

"I was going to after dinn---."

"Now."

I glared at her, leaned over and kissed her cheek and then left the bathroom. Mattie was lying on her back on our bed, her head hanging off the edge. When she saw me, she grinned and waved, "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, kitten."

Slowly, I walked across the room and sat on the bed beside her. She reached out and tugged on my shirtsleeve and said, "Lay like me."

I nodded and did so. Once my vision showed the room to be upside down, I said, "Mattie I have something to tell you."

"What?" she asked as her hand found mine and squeezed it.

Even though I hadn't really planned out how I was going to tell her, I took a deep breath and just went for it, "I want to let you know I'm very proud of how well you're doing with your riding. You've been very dedicated… active and you've stuck with it."

"It's really fun, Dad. You should try it."

"I have. Not recently, but I rode when I was your age."

"Did you have a pony?"

I nodded, although it took quite an effort in light of my upside down position.

"What was his name?"

"Tucker."

"What happened to Tucker, Dad?"

Her fingers had wrapped around my thumb. I sighed, "I stopped riding when I was eight. He was sold to a new owner."

"Why did you stop riding?"

There was a very good reason why, but I couldn't tell her. Instead of explaining how my parents had been murdered and I had been left a revenge driven orphan, I told her that I had just lost interest.

"Oh. I'll never stop riding, Dad. Never ever."

"That's a good thing," I looked over at her, withholding a smile at the sight of her black curls hanging from her head.

"It is?" she asked, turning her head to face mine.

"Yes. Because you have a responsibility now."

"Like you do? For work?"

I sighed, "Sort of. But your job is to take extra special care of Rusty."

"I do already."

"I know you do. But now, you can do more, because he is yours."

Her eyes widened, revealing the icy irises I had fallen in love with the very first time I had seen them. "Really?"

I nodded.

Before I could say another word, she leapt onto me, wrapping her arms around my neck, squeezing the very breath from me, "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

I managed a small breath, "You're welcome."

She continued to repeat her thanks and love for me long after Selina emerged from the bathroom, dressed and smiling. When Mattie looked up and saw her, she jumped off of the bed and attacked her mother, declaring that I had bought Rusty. Selina acted surprised and knelt to hug the exuberant child.

As oxygen returned to my lungs, I sat up slowly, ignoring the slow pulsing in my head. It wasn't long before Mattie returned to jump back onto the bed in order to put the sleeper hold on me once more.

A half of an hour later, she had run down stairs to tell Alfred, had returned upstairs to thank me again and with the help of her mother, had called her friends Katrina and Marsha as well as Barbara, Jim, Leslie, Clark and had left messages on Tim, Cassandra and Dick's cell phones.

As she finally settled down, Selina had Mattie go wash up for dinner. I was sitting exactly where I had been when I had come home from work, only this time Selina was sitting next to me, leaning against my shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, she said, "You just made that girl's century."

"Millennium," I smirked.

Another minute of silence, "Tim and Cassandra come home today, right?"

I nodded.

"So could one expect you to be home earlier than you have been in the last few nights?"

"Perhaps," I said, "Why?"

"No reason. Thought we might…" she paused as Mattie walked into the room, still beaming, "I thought we might finish that crossword puzzle from Sunday's paper."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I smirked.

"Can I help?" Mattie asked as she crawled up onto my lap.

I kissed the top of my daughter's head, "Sorry, kitten, but it's more for, uh, adults." I helped her down to the floor before standing. Selina bit her lip to keep from laughing and stood as well.

As we walked out of the room and headed for the stairs, Selina whispered, "Good save there, Bruce."

"At least I didn't lie to her."

She smacked the back of my head. Then took my hand into hers.

Ah, love.

V