Title: One And Only: XX

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the Series of Three storyline. 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: There is a brief reference made by Alfred to a scene from the WB's Batman Begins Exclusive Preview (of which I have watched about a thousand times because it is so utterly awesome)

Brief References made to comic continuity, especially Robin: Year One

Warning: If you tend to get misty-eyed, get out the tissues for the last POV.

V

When I woke at five-thirty on the first of August, my first task was to change the calendar page that was on my desk. With the sky still dark with the late night's storm clouds and awaiting the sun's arrival, I turned my desk lamp on in order to provide some illumination. The night before I had written on the last page of my leather bound journal. Usually, I had empty notebooks on reserve, but this had been the first time in far too long that I did not.

Old age, I chided myself.

After writing out a list of necessary activities for the day, I donned my housecoat and made my way to the stairs. On my way to the kitchen, I bypassed the study and paused in mid-stride. Although the room was dark, it was not difficult to see Master Bruce seated in one of the leather chairs in front of the fireplace, staring at blackened logs and cold ash.

"Master Bruce?" I asked while stepping into the room, "Is everything all right?"

He remained motionless, causing a sensation of fear to grow within me. On his very first night out, before the Batman had been officially adopted as his other persona, I had found him in the very chair he was sitting in, bleeding, barely conscious and staring listlessly at the shattered windows. He had nearly died that night.

"Sir?" I asked, walking quickly to his side.

As I paused in front of him, I noticed his eyes were open and that for the most part he was unscathed. A slight bruise had formed on his lower jaw and faded upward towards his right eye. He sat slouching, legs spread and arms resting on the panels of the chair, no doubt exhausted from whatever ventures he had faced during the night. Before I could say his name again, he blinked slowly and looked towards me, turning his head as if it were a great challenge.

"Alfred."

"Sir, are you all right?"

He took a moment to respond, "No…" he shook his head, "I mean yes, I'm all right."

"I hate to argue with you at this hour, sir, but you do not look well at all."

He leaned forward slightly, running his hands through his hair, "I… couldn't sleep, didn't want to wake Selina."

I wanted to tell him that he could have woken me, but I remained quiet. Although Master Bruce had never been the kind to voluntarily discuss whatever was bothering him, I found that he could occasionally be forthcoming if enough pressured silence was applied. I excused myself temporarily and fetched him a glass of ice water. Upon my return, I had noticed that he had sat back in the chair and had closed his eyes.

The darkness under his eyes had been the product of several sleepless nights. It seemed that his returns from patrols had become later and later, of which was troubling in itself. For the past several years, it seemed he had made all possible efforts to return as soon as he could in order to be with his wife and to rest for a day with his daughter. Over the last few weeks, his pattern had noticeably been altered. Longer patrols, less sleep and less time with his family.

A pattern of behavior he had adopted for years and had fortunately been long since renounced.

I offered him the glass and he took it into his hand but did not drink from it. Not about to leave him without discovering what was at the heart of his problem, I pulled over a matching chair and sat beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at me, as if to ask what I was doing.

"Bruce, please…"

Finally, he sighed. "Alfred, I don't know what to do." He made it sound as if it were a confession rather than relieving a burdening thought.

"About what, sir?"

"… Everything."

"Sir?"

There was a long silence as he sipped from the glass. Then he spoke, "Everything is different, Alfred…"

"A lot has changed recently, sir, but not everything is different."

He stood suddenly. I half expected him to take an awkward step but was surprised to see that he walked off fine, "But it is Alfred. I've been thinking about it and I can't think of a single damned thing that's the same as it was when I started… The city has fallen to its lowest levels time and time again, with Bane and the Clench and then No Man's Land… Gordon… Jim stepped down…" he faced the windows, the glass clasped in his hand, "Dick's come into my life, left and has come back..."

I watched as the water in the glass shivered. His voice came in a whisper, "And Jason…"

I stood and approached him, keeping a mere yard between us, "Sir, you know that what happened---."

"Wasn't my fault. You've been telling me that for years," he turned to look at me, "But I just can't believe it. If I hadn't taken him under my wing, if I had trained him better, set more rules for him, he would still be alive."

"Sir, you can't blame---."

I was interrupted as he threw the glass at the wall. It shattered on impact, spraying shards of glass and droplets of water everywhere. The death of Jason Todd had always been a sensitive subject in this house. One, which was rarely spoken of. Even thinking about it brought out terrible memories of Master Bruce silent and brooding and of an empty bedroom that would never be occupied ever again…

He looked back towards the window, "I can blame myself, Alfred. I do…"

Although the room fell silent, I could still hear the glass shattering, echoing in my mind. I had known something was bothering him but I had no idea he had gone as far as to recollect each and every travesty that he had faced over the last two decades. For any normal human being it would be enough drive a person mad with depression. For Master Bruce, it simply brought out insomnia and self-hatred.

"What else, then," I asked, "What else do you blame yourself for? Ms. Barbara's paralysis? The death of Mrs. Essen-Gordon? Miss Cassandra's dreadful upbringing?"

He turned to look at me once more, no doubt shocked by my boldness. But he couldn't have been more shocked than I had been at my words. I watched as he blinked and bowed his head slightly. I had known that many of the burdens he bore he wished to do so alone and would freely take the pain of guilt. A fault of his that he had since he was a child.

I could still remember him, standing quietly in his room following his parents' funeral, losing a battle against his tears. I had walked in to tell him that I would prepare him supper if he desired only to be met with his silence.

"Very well then," I had muttered, turning to leave instead of comforting him. In those early days, I had been unsure as to how to comfort the child. I had learned quickly, for his sake.

It was then he had cried, "Alfred, it's all my fault…" he had managed through the sniffles, "I made them leave the theatre, if I hadn't gotten scared, they'd still be alive…"

I had gone to console him, offering comforting words that said the killer was to blame, not him. Then, I embraced him, letting him sob into my jacket as he whispered that he missed them. Even after all of the years that had passed, he still relayed the blame to himself. For his parents… For everything.

"Bruce, although you see to it that you have, in some way, managed to bring about these things you speak of, I must remind you that everything happens for a reason. Your city fell victim to unspeakable evils time and time again, this is true, but it happened not because of you, but perhaps to test you. James Gordon left his post as commissioner as a result of his own decision to step down in order to let a new individual take on the task of fighting crime in this city. And young Richard…" I paused to smirk, "Lord knows the trials you and he have endured over the years, but you must remember that the relationship between a father and a son is a precious one. The loyalty you hold for your father is the same type of admiration that Master Dick holds for you, albeit he doesn't always show it."

He had no reply.

"Now, sir, if you are quite through with your brooding, I must fetch the broom and dust pan." I had put one foot through the door when I heard his footsteps from behind me. I paused in order to watch him pass me and walk towards the stairs.

Just as he reached the bottom of the staircase, he stopped and turned, "Thank you, Alfred."

"You are very welcome, sir."

V

"All right, one lemonade, one Cherry Coke and one Aquafina," the vendor smiled a little too brightly, "That will be seven-eighteen."

I watched as Tim reached into his pocket and covered the bill. I took the chance to give Mattie her lemonade before grabbing my soda and Tim's water. Even though we had only been at the Bristol Park for an hour, the eighty-degree weather called for some hydration.

I had volunteered to baby-sit Mattie for the afternoon after her soccer practice as Selina was up at the Preserve and Bruce would be working late. Again. It was the fifth time I had to sit for them in the last week and a half, of which was certainly odd. Not that I minded, it was just… odd.

After Tim paid, we walked over towards the playground area where a few trees offered shady cover on the benches. By the time we walked over, Mattie had most of her drink gone and asked, "Cassie, can I go on the swings?"

"Sure, I'll hold your lemonade."

We sat on the nearest bench and watched as she skipped over to the empty swings. She picked a middle one, hopped on and began pumping her legs. I took a sip of my soda, but the cap back on and then set it on the seat next to Mattie's drink. Tim was taking long, slow guzzles of his water while watching Mattie and other children play in the carefree manner only a child could muster.

After redoing my ponytail, I leaned back against the bench and watched as well. Three minutes of silence, aside from kids giggling and birds chirping. Just as I glanced at my watch to see that it was ten after five, Tim asked, "Do you think that there's something wrong with him?"

"Hmm," I said softly, needing no clarification as to whom he was referring to.

"I've been thinking about it, how he's been out on patrols so late, recently… And how he works alone, staying away from us all night…" he pointed to Mattie, "And now he's staying at work during the day later…. It's like he's trying to avoid everyone."

I had made similar observations but had kept them to myself. Months earlier, when Bruce had asked me to train harder with Tim; I had made a few assumptions and had also kept them to myself. Not only had our sparring upped, but Tim's weight training as well. A year ago, he had been well muscled, but still somewhat lean. As I looked at him in his short-sleeved tee, he could have easily passed as an amateur body builder…

"And even before… the way he's been giving us more cases to work, more things to do on our own... I've done more solo work in the last year than I have since I started being Robin."

I shrugged, "Maybe he wants you to have more experience."

"Maybe," he rubbed his forehead, "But I think there's something more to it, Cass, I really do." His gaze flashed to me before returning to Mattie, "Do you think he's sick?"

"I don't know, he seems fine. Tired sometimes but if he's working harder…"

Tim sighed, "Something's not right."

"Did you ask him?"

He shook his head, "No, not yet. I don't how to. If I'm wrong and everything is all right then I'll look like an ass."

"But if something is wrong, isn't it better to know about it?"

He looked down at his hands, "I suppose. But what if he is sick, Cass? What if it's been something that's been going on for a while, that he's kept hidden and now it's getting worse and he's afraid he can't hide it any longer?"

"And that's why he's avoiding everyone," I added.

"Exactly," he looked at me, eyes an electric blue, "What if he's…"

"If he was dying he would tell us."

He shook his head and looked over at Mattie, "You don't know that. He may not be the same as he was when I first met him, but I know he would try and protect us from something like that. When he was paralyzed by Bane, he had us all believing it was nothing, that with rest he would be back in no time. The truth was the slightest torque on his back or fraction of pressure on his system at the very least he could have been permanently paralyzed… And the worst, he could have died."

I set my hand on his, not knowing what else to do or say.

Tim took my hand into his and looked back towards me, "I don't want to go through that again. I don't want to be shielded from the truth; I want to know what's going on."

"Then talk to him," I resolved.

He went to open his mouth when his cell phone chirped from his pants pocket. He let go of me and answered, "Hey… Hey, what's up?…. No we're fine… At the park in Bristol… Yeah, for a little while then we're dropping the munchkin off at the Manor… Sounds good to me, hold on," he spoke to me, "Dick wants to know if we want to get some dinner with him and Barbara tonight."

"Oh?"

He nodded, "Consider it payment for helping me move in."

"Ha, sounds good."

He told Dick that we would join them and to make reservations. After he hung up, we walked over and joined Mattie on the swings. She had been humming to herself as we walked closer towards her and stopped when she spotted us. "Are we leaving?"

"Nope, figured we swing with you for a while," Tim smiled and sat in the right hand seat.

I took the one on the left side of Mattie and slowly began building up speed and height. Mattie laughed as Tim struggled with the low swing, clipping his feet on the stone covered ground each time he hit the bottom of the arc.

After the swings, we toured the wooden playground, climbed the rope wall, slid down the slides and crossed the monkey bars. A little after six-thirty, Mattie looked whipped. We returned to Tim's car and drove over the hill to Wayne Manor. Using the service entrance, we walked into the house and were greeted with the sweet scent of sirloin. Alfred was at the counter, peeling red potatoes and didn't seem surprised to see us file into the kitchen.

"Is Mom home, Alfred?"

He nodded, "That she is, young miss, upstairs in her room, I believe."

The girl grinned and bounded out the door and into the hallway. A second later she returned and ran at me, hugging me around the waist, "Bye, Cassie!"

"Bye, Mattie."

She then took me into her tiny arms, "Are you going to come see Rusty this weekend?"

"Yep, can't wait to meet him, he sounds awful cute."

Once Mattie left to search for her mother, Tim asked Alfred if Bruce had returned yet. A slight frown passed over his lips before he said, "No, I'm afraid not."

Tim shrugged, "Ah. I'll catch him tonight, then. See you later, Al."

"Good night, Master Tim, Miss Cassandra."

The ride back into town was silent and one that reminded me of one too many rides in the Batmobile. In the forty-minute ride, I fought with myself as to whether or not to tell Tim about the favor Bruce had asked of me. When he pulled up in front of the Clocktower, I still hadn't decided one way or the other. As he stepped out and opened my door for me, I sighed and decided after dinner, I would tell him.

Maybe.

V

As I twirled my spoon in orange sorbet, I took an oath to kill Bruce Wayne the second he stepped through the door.

This was the third dinner he had missed in the last week. In Mattie's six years of life, he had made all possible efforts to be with her for breakfast and dinner so that he would be able to begin and end his day with her. Perhaps it was to give an illusion of a normalcy he wouldn't allow himself. But for him to brush of three dinners out of seven…

Mattie and I were sitting in the den eating our dessert while putting together a dolphin puzzle she had won at the first grade spelling bee back in June. With Bruce's increasing absence at home, I'd been doing my best to keep Mattie occupied with games, painting and puzzles. Anything to keep her mind off of the fact that Bruce wasn't there to be with her.

"One more piece, Mom…. He he, it's his nose."

I watched as she plugged in the last piece, completing the smiling, coral reef exploring dolphin, "Perfect. You want some more ice cream?"

She looked at her empty bowl that sat on the floor beside her, "No… I'm full."

"Well, let's leave this here, I'll get some pictures of it before we take it apart to put it away."

She stood and looked down at the puzzle, "Can we leave it until Dad comes home?"

I nodded and stood as well, "Sure thing, I know he'd love to see it. I'm going to take our bowls into the kitchen. Why don't you go upstairs and pick out some pajamas, then after your bath we can have a slumber party down here until Dad gets home. Watch a movie and have popcorn…"

"Yeah!" she jumped up with her hands in the air before skipping out the door, laughing quietly to herself. At least one of us was in good spirits.

When I made it to her room, she had a matching pajama set laid out on her bed, a light purple pair of shorts and a matching shirt with smiling moon embroidered on it, surrounded by gold stars. I found her in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. She smiled, her mouth foamed, when I walked into the room. As she spat and rinsed, I set the tub to fill and poured in bubble bath.

"All clean," Mattie grinned, revealing her tiny white teeth.

"Now let's get the rest of you cleaned up."

I gave her the washcloth while I picked up the shampoo bottle, of which was empty. Last night when I had given her a bath, it had been empty but I had forgotten to toss it out. "I'll be right back, I'm going to get some shampoo from my bathroom."

"Kay," she replied as she piled suds on the washcloth.

Instead of searching the cabinets in the bathroom, I took a bottle from our shower. On my way back to her bathroom, I paused in the hallway, eyes fixed at the silhouette at the end of the hall. After Mattie was in bed, I told myself, I could wait that long to kill him.

Instead of talking to Bruce, I returned to Mattie and sat back on the edge of the tub. "Do you want to do your hair, Mattie?"

She nodded, "Sure," and held out her cupped hand. I squeezed out a dollop and told her to wait while I wet her hair a bit more.

As I poured a cup of water over the back of her head there was a soft rap on the doorframe just before Bruce's form filled the doorway. Mattie looked over at him and smiled, "Daddy!"

"Hi, kitten. How was soccer?"

"Awesome. We have a game this weekend. Playing the Chargers…"

I interrupted, "There you go, lather it up, kid."

"Is this your shampoo, it smells pretty." I nodded and she giggled before mixing it into her hair. Once she was satisfied, she titled her head back, "Rinse, please," her eyes scrunched shut and her grin as wide as possible. After all of the shampoo was out, Mattie rinsed off one more time before she stood and stepped out of the tub. I wrapped a towel around her and took another off the rack to dry her hair.

Bruce stood motionless, watching.

Once dry, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders and trotted over to her father. He scooped her up and kissed her cheek. Before she could wrap her arms around his neck, he set her down and told her to get dressed. She nodded and left for her bedroom.

Leaving us alone.

Instead of facing him, I chose to ignore him while emptying and rinsing the tub. When I stood to leave, he was still blocking the doorway. "Excuse me," I said without looking at him.

He paused, and then stepped aside.

Once in the safety of our room, I returned the shampoo to the shower and tried to find something to occupy myself with. Anything. Unfortunately, Alfred had cleaned our room already and I would have to make a mess in order to pick it up.

Bruce entered the room and walked over to where I was standing beside the bay windows. If he had reached out to touch me, I didn't know if I could control my urge to slay him. Instead, he kept a foot between us and said, "Selina, I'm sorry."

"You are apologizing to the wrong person."

He paused then, "I know. I---."

"I don't think you know, Bruce. Because when you're not here, you don't have to see the look on her face. You don't have to watch her staring at your seat at the dinner table or out the windows, hoping to see headlights coming up the drive." I walked away from him and sat on the sofa.

He took a breath and then followed suit, still keeping the distance between us. He kept his gaze directed at me, but I refused to meet his eyes. I expected him to apologize again, but he never did. After a moment of silence, I looked over at him. The lights in the front of our room were on, casting a shadow over his face. The only thing I could see were his eyes, practically glowing in the darkness.

"Where were you?" I asked softly. When he didn't answer, I asked again, louder.

"I heard you," he said.

"That's good. Now in the normal standards of conversation, it's your turn to respond, preferably to the question asked."

"I know…"

When he didn't, I sighed, "Bruce, it's not that difficult of a question."

He leaned back into the sofa, "I've been busy."

"Busy, Bruce? Doing what?"

He shook his head, "Does it matter?" he asked as he turned to face me. As light spilled over half of his face, I recognized how tense his features had become.

I stood, "Apparently not… Why would it matter, Bruce, after all, whatever it is you were doing needed more attention than Mattie did tonight."

"Selina, please, you think I don't care if I'm not here?" he said, still sitting on the sofa.

I turned back quickly to face him, "Bruce, if you care so much, then make the effort to be here." I watched as he opened his mouth to reply but then shut it. I took the chance to continue, "What is going on with you? For the last month, you've been here less and less---."

He stood and interrupted me, "I know, Selina and---."

"You know? Then why aren't you doing something about it?"

"I'm trying, Selina," he closed the space between us.

"Then try harder, Bruce, damnit, we're talking about your daughter, about us," I snapped, louder than I had intended, "I can't make you be here, you should want to be here with us."

"I do want to be here, but I can't, not right now, I have things to take care of."

"What things?"

He locked eyes with me but didn't offer an answer.

"Exactly, Bruce. The same nameless things you've been taking care of for years. The same nameless things that have come before anything else, no matter what."

"That's not true and you know it," he growled.

"Oh really? When we first dated, all those years ago, why did we break up? Why did I leave you, this city, behind? Because I had never come first in anything. I was never important enough, not as Selina Kyle and not as Catwoman!"

"This isn't the same as that," he spoke loudly, "This has nothing to do with what happened then, it only has to do with what's happening now."

"Bruce, I don't know what's going on because you won't tell me!" I crossed my arms over my chest. We rarely fought over anything, and even still, we hadn't done so in months and that had been because he was upset about Jim retiring. Whatever was bothering him was something far more troubling.

He glared at me as he opened his mouth to no doubt bark back whatever he thought was a plausible excuse for skirting around whatever was bothering him. But before he could utter a word, his eyes shifted to doorway as did mine.

Mattie stood just inside the door, hugging her stuffed pony and crying silently. When Bruce began to walk towards her she turned and ran down the hall, no doubt seeking refuge in her bedroom. As he paused in mid-stride, and looked over at me, hurt clearly displayed in the look on his face. He continued on towards the door and as he reached it, I called out, "Wait for me."

Surprisingly, he did stop to wait for me.

Maybe I wouldn't kill him.

Maybe I would just scratch his eyes out.

V

I heard a soft knock on the door and then Mom's voice, "Mattie, can we come in?"

I was lying on my bed, hugging my stuffed pony, and trying to stop crying. I picked a tissue out of the box on my nightstand and wiped my face and nose before saying, "Okay." When the door opened, Mom walked in first and then Dad, both of them looked sad and tired.

I had been getting dressed as quickly as possible so that I could be with them in their room when I had heard them arguing. At first, when I heard them yelling I didn't think much of it. Maybe one of them had been in the bathroom and they needed to talk louder. But when I heard how angry they sounded… I knew something was wrong.

Quietly, I had walked down to their bedroom, the voices getting louder with each step. Their door was opened half way and when I looked in, I saw that Mom and Dad were standing on the other side of the bed. Dad looked like he was going to say something but when he saw me; he stopped and looked at me. So did Mom. I hadn't realized that I had been crying until I felt a tear fall from my face and land on my bare foot. The second Dad had started towards me, I turned and ran as fast as I could to my room.

Once inside, I shut the door and crawled to the middle of my bed, still hugging my pony as tight as I could.

As they passed through my door, Dad reached over and turned the overhead light on. I closed my eyes as I pressed my face into my pillow. I listened as their footsteps came closer and then felt as Mom sat on the bed next to me. A moment later, I felt Dad sit as well, although on the other side of me.

It wasn't long after that I felt my mother's hand rubbing my back, "Mattie, we're sorry…"

I kept my eyes closed.

"Sweetheart, please, can we talk?" she asked, still rubbing my back.

I shook my head against my pillow. They whispered to one another before Dad lay on my bed, wrapping an arm around my middle, "Kitten, please…"

This time I shrugged a bit before mumbling, "Okay…"

Mom lay down beside me as well, still keeping her hand on my back. With both them lying with me, I rolled onto my back, looking back and forth between their faces. When I looked back to Mom I asked her why she had been shouting.

She took a while to answer, "Dad and I didn't mean to shout, we had an argument and didn't realize how loud we were."

I kept looking at her, "Arguing about what?" I asked after a sniffle.

Dad cleared his throat and I looked over at him, "About me not being here for dinner… and for working too much lately."

"That was a silly thing to fight over," I said.

"It was," he replied as he leaned over to kiss my cheek.

With each of them having a hand across me, I reached up and put their hands together. I watched as they squeezed each other's fingers gently and looked at one another. After a bit, I asked, "Mom, can we still have our slumber party?"

"Of course we can," she said the start of a smile on her lips.

"Do want to come, Dad? We're going to watch a movie in our pajamas."

Mom and I looked over at him at the same time. He looked passed me at Mom for a second before looking down at me, "Of course I do."

I leaned up and kissed him and then turned and kissed Mom. I slipped out from under their arms and rolled off of the bed. Once standing, I said, "Now you have to kiss and make up."

"Oh really?" Mom asked as she looked over at me.

I nodded, "I saw it in a movie." They were both looking at me now. I put my hands on my hips and said, "Well?"

"I think we better do it, Bruce, or she won't let us have a slumber party."

They looked at one another for a long time. Mom was smiling but Dad looked confused. Eventually, he offered a smirk and leaned forwards to kiss her.

It didn't take long for both of them to change into pajamas. Dad, Mom and I went downstairs together. They went to make popcorn and I picked out a movie in the entertainment den. After I took "The Incredible Journey" off the shelf of DVDs, I set it next the TV and went to the kitchen. Mom was pouring a bag of popcorn into a large glass bowl and Dad was on the phone, "No… Something came up… Just tell them… Thank you. Bye."

After he hung up, I walked up behind him and asked, "Who was that?"

He turned, "Oh, Aunt Barbara."

"Ah, I wanted to talk to her, too," I pouted.

"Next time, kitten," he said. "What's the movie?"

"It's a surprise."

Once in the den, we all sat on the big leather couch. Mom and Dad sat together and then I sat beside Dad, covered up in a blanket I kept downstairs. I took a few handfuls of popcorn but after that I wasn't hungry any more.

Despite the fact that not even an hour earlier they were mad at each other, it seemed that they were back to normal. When I looked, Dad had his arm around her back and she had her head settled against his shoulder. They whispered to each other a few times during the movie but other than that they were silent.

As the movie went on, I started yawning. I leaned against Dad and smiled when he let me use his lap as a pillow. Just when the porcupine stung Chance, I decided it was a safe time to rest my eyes, for just a little while. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in my bed, tucked in for the night. I sat up and looked at my clock: 12:05 a.m. I picked up my pony and my blanket and got out of bed, my eyes half closed.

I walked down the dark hall and peeked into their bedroom before entering. Both were in bed sleeping soundly. After climbing onto the bed, I crawled in between them and settled down. Dad mumbled something but when I looked his eyes were closed.

At least the next time they fought, I knew what to do to fix it.

Slumber parties had a way of making everyone happy.

V

When Batman didn't want to be found, Batman didn't want to be found.

Since talking to Cass a few days earlier, I had made it my goal in life to find him so I could talk to him. To try and figure what was going on, if anything. The other night, he had gone as far as not even going out on patrols, which after he had been out since well past four in the morning nearly every night seemed way out of place.

At a little after two, I took a break from my own patrols and my search for Batman. I was actually two blocks from my apartment and was half tempted to go get a drink of water. As most of the summer had been, August had started out hot and showed no signs of relief any time soon.

Just as I prepared a line to move on, I heard a soft sound from behind me.

I smirked and waited for him.

Nightwing's arm went to wrap around my throat but I ducked to the left and about faced, landing a soft jab to his stomach. A look of surprise came over his face and was quickly replaced by a playful smile. He asked, "Jumpy much?"

"Nah, bored," I replied.

"Oh, not enough rotten scum for the big bad bird to beat up?"

I put a hand on his shoulder, "Here's a hint. Always avoid alliteration."

He let out a laugh and slapped the back of my head, "I'll remember that."

I put my line away and said, "I take it Leslie cleared you?"

He nodded and balanced all of his weight on the foot he had injured, "All better. I still have a bit of a bruise on my butt. Bottom. Backside," he smiled as I glared at him, "Right, the alliteration. My ass."

"Better," I commented, "Speaking of B's, have you seen Batman at all?"

He shook his head, "No. I've been down south. Irving Grove, Gotham Village, hit up a nice mugging in Evanstown and on my way up here I made a few stops in Little Stockton because that's always a happening place."

I nodded in agreement and looked out at the city skyline.

After a minute of listening to the traffic below, he said, "Well, I better scoot, so many criminal acts, so little time… If I see him do you want me to tell him you're looking for him?"

"Doesn't matter. I tried to get Oracle to find him but he's had his homing signal off for the last two weeks."

"Hm, that's odd," he whispered. Before he turned to leave, he made a swift move to kick me with his healing foot. I snatched it and put pressure on the ankle. "Hey, no fair." I let his leg go and watched as he leapt off of the building before shooting a line. Crazy circus folk…

Instead of getting water, I made my own leap of faith and moved west into Charon. I had always joked that Charon was always a good district to end patrols in because it was home to Mercy Hospital as well as the Gotham Memorial and Rose Lawn Cemeteries. If things didn't go your way, you were equidistant to an ER or a grave. Only Dick thought it had been funny.

Despite the morbid monuments, the area was actually pretty. Lots of big oaks lining the streets and barricading the cemeteries, very few large architectural nightmares that were popular in the other districts. And on top of that, the crime levels changed as well. The most common was loitering at the graves and sometimes, grave robbing. That was never a pleasant one to deal with but it sure beat playing fire fighter.

But after forty minutes of touring the area, there was nothing to do.

So much for a busy night.

"Oracle?"

She took a moment to reply, "Looking for something to do?"

"You read my mind."

"Ha. Too bad my psychic prowess is a waste. I've got nothing on my boards for you."

"Seriously? What is happening to Gotham these days…." I kidded.

"Tell me about it. Makes staring at computer screens all night a real drag."

I smirked as I made my way home, "You're playing Pong, aren't you?"

She paused, "Perhaps."

A few blocks from my place, I asked, "Any word from him?"

"Sorry, not a single grunt nor monosyllable word."

After wishing her a good night and good luck beating the computer, I returned to Bryanttown a little before three, officially declaring it a night. As I changed into shorts and a shirt in the dark silence of my apartment, I tried to get my mind to shift away from my troubled thoughts concerning Bruce. Maybe in the morning I would drive up to Bristol, visit with Dad and Dana and then go over and pay him a personal visit. At least to see him, even if I didn't get a chance to talk to him. Maybe even kill a few punch bags in the Cave.

Still thirsty, I went into the kitchen and finished off a bottle of milk. After wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I set the bottle on the counter and crossed the living room towards my room. With Cass's help, I had unpacked and settled in within a week of moving. Barbara had given me a few framed posters of my favorite movies to hang up as a house-warming gift. Dick had brought over deep-dish pizza and beer. Bruce and Selina had yet to see the place but I kept getting promises that they would drop by sometime.

I yawned as I walked into my room. Even with the lights off, I managed my way to the bed without tripping over any random shoes or dirty clothes. Tomorrow afternoon I planned on cleaning the whole place, as I was having Cass over for dinner.

I was surprised at how easy I had settled into our relationship. Whether it was the stress from the last year or the fact that we had actually matured a bit, being together was much easier than I could have hoped for. We joked about it quite often, how it had taken Bruce and Selina over a decade to figure life out and Dick and Barbara nearly as long. And we had just come together at the right time without any hassle. Our camping trip had been amazing. The little she had been with my friends from school, she still got along with them great for the whole week that we roughed it at the state park.

She admitted to have never officially been camping, at least not in the sense of weenie roasts and story telling. More so meditating all night in the dark woods as a child. So in honor of it being her first time, we all did our part in making sure she had as much fun as possible. My friend Josh taught her to play a tune on his guitar and the girls conned her into helping in their scheme of dumping all of the guys' clothes over the camp area.

On our way back home to the city, Cass had thanked me for the "break from reality." And she said that next time, we should go camping alone.

No matter what happened between us, I knew I would never take Cass for granted.

And as I settled into bed, I laughed as I thought to myself, And if I ever did, she would kill me.

V

The clock on the far wall showed the time to be ten after four in the morning.

I should be on my way to Bristol.

Instead I was sitting at Barbara's kitchen table.

I had waited outside the Clocktower until a little before four, watching as Barbara shut down the computers. Within ten minutes, the lights were out and she was in her bedroom. I gave her another five minutes before sneaking in through the living room window. After moving silently through the flat, I sought refuge in the room furthest from her bedroom and the one I knew Dick would visit before going to bed himself: the kitchen.

As I sat at the table, cowl pulled back, I recalled countless evenings that I had watched him engulf turkey sandwiches after patrols. No matter how late, he could always take on any snack or meal that Alfred offered before heading upstairs to bed. I smiled, remembering how I would always wait a while, then go up and check on him.

Just as I checked in on Mattie every single night…

I heard a soft click sound from down the hall and then the padding of footsteps on carpet. He yawned loudly, cutting through the silent apartment with ease. As his footfalls landed on the tiled floor, I watched from the back of the room as he maneuvered in the dark to the refrigerator. He selected a carton of milk from the shelf, popped it open and put it to his lips.

I asked quietly, "Doesn't Barbara want you to use a glass?"

He spat milk, coughed and looked in my direction, "Holy… Bruce, is this your new crime fighting strategy? Wait in darkened rooms and give criminals heart attacks?"

"Figured this would be a good time to talk."

I watched as he pulled his mask off and stared at the clock on the wall, "Bruce, it's four in the morning. The only thing that's good at this time is Denny's breakfast." He smirked and ran a gloved hand through his hair, "Well, I thought it was funny, that's what matters."

… So, is it me or are the crooks getting lamer as we go?…

I looked away from him and he asked, "You all right?" He walked towards me and sat in the chair to my left.

I offered my usual response to that particular question: silence.

He tried to shrug it off, "I'll take that as a 'no comment' then," but the look on his face showed genuine concern.

The fight with Selina had put things in somewhat perspective for me. For almost a month, I had been avoiding my family, all of them. There was no true reason other than that I wanted time to think things through. Things that I had to take care of. The very things that had caused the fight with the woman I loved. Having three separate lives as a businessman, a family man and as Batman allowed me the chance to work harder in two in order the steer clear of the remaining one. Selina had been right; I had nearly mastered balancing all three for so long and suddenly I had let perhaps the most important one fall behind.

Because one of my other lives was coming to an end and I didn't want it to…

"Bruce?"

When he said my name, I realized that I had been staring at him, my thoughts taking control of my attention. I blinked and looked away briefly. In the last week, I had come to the Clocktower each and every night. I had watched Barbara close up for the night; I had entered her home and waited. But each and every time that I had heard Dick arrive, I would slip out the back, undetected.

That night, I held my ground.

"Dick…" I started, still unsure as to how I would finish, "I want you to know, that you returning to Gotham means a great deal to me. Especially now."

He smirked, "Thanks."

I had to fight to keep my eyes trained on him, "I know you've been through a lot, with the shoot out and even the Wallach case… But I understand what you've gone through. I've had my fair share of stressful situations and unsolvable cases that still haunt me… Something as tragic as a child's death… And no evidence to find justice… No matter what, there's nothing you can do…"

He sat back in his chair, eyes trained on me.

I looked down at my hands as they rested on the table.

When I looked back at him, I stared into his eyes, "But up until now, I didn't know what it was like for you… and for Jim to step down… To give up the role you had fought so hard to create…"

Dick's breathing hitched and all he could manage was a whisper, "Bruce, what do you mean up until now, what are trying tell me?"

My chest was tightening with every breath I took. If the act of telling him wasn't hard enough, the look on his face…

The look in his eyes…

I stood and faced the doorway, doing my best to keep it together, "When I became Batman, I promised myself that I would work until I could physically no longer. Whether it be health or age or… even death. I knew I couldn't do it forever. I knew there would be a point when the risk would be too much, but I never knew when." I listened as he rose and approached me. When he didn't speak, I continued, "Until now."

"Oh my God," he whispered. I turned back to face him, shocked to see his blue eyes glassy and his mouth gaped open. "Bruce, no…"

Somehow, I managed to keep looking at him, "I wanted you to be the first to know… About me stepping down. Of my plans---."

"Plans? Wh-what, how long have you known… that you were going to do this?"

A week. A year. My whole life. I had no answer for him. I had to…

"Bruce," he drew a sharp breath, eyes still locked onto me, "What's wrong, I mean, there has to be a reason for you to give up."

I sighed, "I'm not giving up, Dick. I'm stepping down before my body does. My knees and shoulders are shot already, and lord knows I'm not as strong as I used to be. Leslie's been harping on my for knee replacements for two years now… If I don't step down now, it wouldn't be more than a year or so before I would absolutely have to. Twenty years, Dick… Thousands of endless nights… Endless battles… I've practically spent my entire life fighting against the odds…"

He whispered, "The war on crime."

"The war of life," I spoke softly.

Silence fell between us as everything settled. I glanced at the clock, shocked to see that it had only been six minutes since Dick had walked into the kitchen. It seemed like a lifetime ago…

I watched him as he stood, somewhat unsteadily on his feet. I had been to Leslie three days earlier for a corticosteroid injection in my left knee's joint capsule and she had told me that he had healed brilliantly. My mind had flashed back to when he had first woken after Two-Face had nearly beaten him to death, so many years ago.

… Occupational hazard, right? Just give me a couple of weeks… and I'll be back out there with you…

His voice interrupted my thoughts, determined but still shaky, "Gotham needs Batman, Gotham needs you."

"I know. But Gotham will have a Batman…" I paused and looked as a hint of confusion flashed in his eyes, "When I was shot… when I lost my memory, you stepped in to take the mantle and did a tremendous job. But that's what it was, a job. I know that you don't see Nightwing as your primary lifestyle as I do with Batman. That's what makes you a better person, Dick, because you didn't let the night take over your life like I did." I took a breath, "Because of this, I am asking Timothy to take the mantle."

He didn't seem as surprised as I thought he would have. I took that as a good sign.

"I've had Cassandra training with him for nearly six months. Increasing his strength as well as his skill. He proved himself more than I would have hoped for in taking down Black Mask. I know he's ready."

"Has he accepted?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I haven't told him yet. I wanted to make sure… that…"

He smirked, "You wanted to make sure I was okay with it. My permission. Kind of like those dances I wanted to go to in middle school."

I let the corner of my mouth rise slightly.

He set his hand on my shoulder, "Bruce… I don't know what to say," he smiled at me, eyes still glassy and then said, "Ah, hell… Even if you didn't let me go dance with girls back in eighth grade… I still love you." Before I could comment, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

When he withdrew, he looked away and swiped his face with the back of his hand, "Now go home and tuck my little sister in, will you?"

V

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