Lifes a Circus

by Cybelluk

The Chines attempt a take over of the city. Dick has a suprise for Bruce.

The characters have been 'borrowed' from DC comics. Thanks to Brian May and Queen, I borrowed your lyrics too. They are so beautifully appropriate.(Full lyrics for those who may not know them are available on the web) Apologies for any errors, my pc decided it wanted to write its own version, IhopeI have amended all the mistakes.

Life's a Circus.

Dick reread the letter.

He was in a quandary. What on earth should he do?

On one hand he was tempted, sorely tempted, but on the other hand…………………………

He put it back in the drawer of his desk. He didn't feel, despite the realisation that Bruce had shown him he cared, when he had finally broken down over the death of his parents, that he could broach this subject with him.

"Maybe I could ask Alfred?" He mused as he settled down to finish his homework.

With this resolve in mind, he just had to find the right time to bring up the subject with Alfred. He couldn't leave it too long though, as he would need time to prepare if he decided to accept the invitation.

"Maybe tomorrow, its Alfred's day off." He realised, "yes that's what I'll do."

Mentally filing the matter away for later perusal, Dick turned his mind fully to his schoolwork.

Bruce was also somewhat preoccupied. He had had to spend more and more time at the office of late.

The international datelines were making it necessary for him to be in the office at all hours of the day and night just to make and take phone calls. Phone calls crucial to the deals he had in the pipeline.

Then the mountain of paperwork and legal paraphernalia connected to those deals took so long to go through, it made his eyes and head hurt. There was the possibility that there were something rather 'dodgy' going on that he needed to track down and put a stop to.

The jangling of the telephone interrupted his thoughts. His P.A., Margaret, announced the caller, he accepted the call.

He had just put the receiver down when the phone rang again and Margaret informed him that June Weir was on line two.

June was Bruce's latest beau.

"Bruce, darling." She cooed, "Where are you? You were meant to pick me up over 2 hours ago." She added petulantly.

"June, I'm so sorry, I got tied up here at the office. I had to wait to take a call from overseas." He explained. "I could come over now." He added.

"Don't you have people to deal with all that stuff?" She asked captiously. Why did he find it so difficult to delegate? "No, don't bother, it's getting late, I might as well take advantage of an early night. When will I see you again?" she grumbled

"I don't think it will be before this weekend now, if not, next weekend?" Bruce informed her.

"I'm so busy right now. Look, I know it's unfair, but I have a lot of people's futures riding on the deals I'm about to make. I have to make sure everything goes to plan." He continued. "You're not the only person who's missing me right now either." He added sadly.

"Why, who else is there Bruce?" June asked seeming surprised.

"There's a young man back home wondering if I've deserted him too." Bruce told her.

"OH! Of course, Dick." She said dismissively. "Look just ring me when you have the time and we will take it from there." June said with defeat in her voice as she hung up.

She knew she should really call it a day, but it was such fun when they did go out. She was loathed to end it right now. Besides there was a prestigious glittering gala fundraiser coming up in a couple of months and she knew that, Bruce being patron of one of the charities involved, they would be attending.

It would be an opportunity to put her glad rags on and be seen with the most eligible bachelor in Gotham. She would be the envy of all the socialites.

"I'll hang on to him for at least that long." She told herself with resolve. She didn't kid herself there was any future in the relationship.

Bruce tapped the intercom and, thanking her for staying on, told Margaret to call it a day and head off home.

He sank back in his black leather chair and swung his legs up onto the edge of the large mahogany desk. He raised his arms and placing his hands behind his head he closed his eyes with a sigh.

"June is getting a little too close for comfort." He thought. "I don't like the way she treats Dick as if he's just a nuisance either."

"My heart just isn't in this relationship." He concluded. "If only I didn't have to have a woman on my arm just to keep up the appearance that I'm the frivolous playboy, it would make life a lot easier."

It wasn't that he didn't want to find the 'right' person to settle down with, he just didn't feel able to 'give' what he considered that person would need. He had, in reality, had to let that one special person go, although they had remained friends, because of his decisions as to what path his life was going to take.

"Huh, life," he thought ironically,

It had been so hard when he came to the realisation that Dick had actually wormed his way into his affections. How natural parents coped he didn't know. Looking after and caring for someone else was an emotional nightmare. Always being afraid that they would get hurt, or, heaven forbid, he would lose them as he had lost his parents, was something he could barely contemplate. Yet despite himself, care he did.

"At least he has shown me that I can still feel." He considered. " I guess he has shown me that life can go on despite all the tragedies it throws at you. That young man is quite amazing!"

Bruce was sure that Dick, although now only part time, would become his constant companion in crime fighting, and to this end he needed to be sure that he was well equipped to deal with the rigours and demands the life would impose on him. He knew Dick couldn't understand right now why he was being so hard on him. Bruce had to try and remain impassive, even when Dick pulled off something amazing, as he usually did.

"I wish I could have kept him from it," he thought sadly.

Dick had such an enquiring and analytical mind he had rapidly worked out that there was something else going on. It had not taken him long to find the Batcave and get around the security systems, much to Bruce's initial chagrin. Although upon reflection he wondered if Alfred had had a hand in it. He did keep encouraging the boy…………..

Bruce opened his eyes, he noticed the late hour displayed by the large clock on the wall opposite.

"Better get a move on," he muttered, urging his aching body to move from the comfort of the chair.

"I reckon I will make it a short patrol tonight," he decided. "An exhausted Batman is not going to help solve the problem, but I just need to check on one lead………….."

With this thought in mind Bruce headed for the private elevator.

PART TWO

"Come on young Sir, its getting late, put your books away and get ready for bed. I've brought you some hot chocolate."

Alfred's words interrupted Dick's concentration.

"Oh, ok. Alfred is Bruce home yet?" Dick asked him, hoping he was.

"Not yet, young man." Alfred informed him. "He finished at the office then headed out to follow up on a lead"

Dicks face fell.

"He does seem to be working so hard right now." Dick said with concern, "I wish he would let me help more, but he doesn't seem to trust me or think I'm good enough."

"I'm sure that's not the case. He is most impressed by the progress you have made." Alfred interjected.

"He doesn't tell me that, he just makes me practice more." Dick went on.

"Practice makes perfect." Alfred said smiling. "Now lets have you in that bathroom and getting ready for bed. I'll be back in a few moments to check on you."

Dick packed the books away in his holdall and headed for the bathroom, grabbing his pyjamas from the bed on the way. Rapidly performing his bedtime ablutions he returned to the bedroom and dived into bed. He was sipping the hot chocolate with relish, when Alfred returned.

"That was quick!" Alfred remarked. "Did you remember to…………?"

"Yes Alfred," Dick interrupted, grinning, knowing what was coming.

Alfred smiled back.

"Alright, alright. Just finish your drink and settle down." He instructed as he turned to leave.

"Alfred," Dick called to him as he reached the door "Alfred."

"What is it young man?" Alfred said turning back.

"Alfred, its your day off tomorrow isn't it?" Dick enquired.

"Well yes, such as it is." Alfred answered. "Although I still have to see to you in the morning, breakfast and then running you to school. I get the rest of the day to myself until its time to collect you again. Not that I'm complaining." He added.

"Oh!" Dick said feeling a little humbled.

"What's on your mind?" Alfred asked kindly.

Dick looked at him in amazement. How did Alfred do it? He always seemed to be able to read your mind. Dick was sure he was psychic.

"I was wondering if, when we get back tomorrow, I could have a talk with you. I would ask Bruce but well,"

"He's been so preoccupied of late." Alfred finished the sentence for him.

"Well yes," Dick agreed. "But, well I don't think its something he can help me with, and I would feel real awkward about asking him." He explained.

"Hmmm." Alfred intoned thoughtfully. What was it that was bothering the boy? He'd noticed something for a few days now.

"When we get back from school tomorrow we can have tea together in the kitchen and you can tell me all about it then." Alfred assented.

"Ok, that sounds good." Dick consented eagerly.

He enjoyed eating in the less formal surroundings of the Kitchen. He felt more at home there. He enjoyed being with Alfred too. When he was in the mood, Alfred would tell amazing stories of his past exploits. Dick suspected Alfred was actually a bit of a 'dark horse'. He also was of the firm belief that Alfred secretly wished he could don the mask and cape and be out there, fighting crime, alongside Batman and now himself, Robin.

"Now come on lets have you settling down." Alfred again instructed tucking Dick in.

"Goodnight young man," he said in a hushed tone as he picked up the now empty mug and headed for the door once more.

"Night Alfred," came the muffled response as Dick burrowed into the huge bed and immediately fell asleep.

PART THREE

The alarm woke Dick, interrupting his sleep with its strident tone.

He yawned as he rolled over and hit the 'off' button with his hand. After allowing himself a few moments to 'come round', he headed to the bathroom to get ready for the school day ahead.

Dick entered the warm fragrant Kitchen. Alfred was already there, busy making breakfast.

"Good morning young man," Alfred greeted, "Sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

"Morning Alfred," Dick responded. "Thanks. Oh, did Bruce make it back ok last night?"

"Well it was more like this morning, he's not long since gone to bed," Alfred told him.

"I found him in the Batcave draped over the computer asleep, so I chased him off to bed."

Dick chuckled; it was a strange relationship that Alfred and Bruce had. He had often overheard Alfred chastise Bruce over something or other. At times Alfred appeared more like Bruce's father than trusty butler. To be fair though, Alfred did 'feel' more like a grandfather to him.

"Here you are," Alfred placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. Dick's eyes widened, he didn't get these very often.

"Thanks," he acknowledged as he poured maple syrup over the pancakes and began to devour them.

When every last morsel was cleaned from the plate Alfred added it to the dishes already in the dishwasher and set it in motion.

"Come on grab your bag and lets get you to school. The sooner your there the sooner my day off can begin." Alfred laughed, picking up a set of car keys from the hooks on the wall.

Without any hesitation Dick hurried to retrieve the bag, and then returned to follow Alfred from the kitchen out to the yard where the car was waiting.

Alfred drew the car up smoothly in the car park outside the school. Dick was a little hesitant to leave.

"Something wrong young man?" Alfred enquired. "Are you having problems with those bullies again?"

"Oh no Alfred I've sorted that out. Its, its, well,"

"The little matter you and I are going to discuss tonight, right?" Alfred concluded.

"Yes, that." Dick replied with some relief, thankful Alfred hadn't forgotten.

"Alright then, get yourself into school before you end up late. I will be here at the usual time tonight."

As Dick scrambled from the car Alfred added with a grin,

"Have a good day!"

The way this phrase was used all the time over here, seemingly often without sincerity, tickled his very British sense of humour.

As Alfred drove away he wondered just what was worrying Dick.

"He sorted out the bullies? Hmm and just how did he accomplish that I wonder?"

Dick had encountered his fair share of bullying, some of the boys where aware of his background and had made life somewhat uncomfortable for him.

As usual Dick hadn't mentioned any of it, it was only a chance remark by another boy who had befriended Dick that had alerted Alfred to the situation.

Alfred had quizzed Dick about it and he had shrugged and explained that he was used to it.

During his days with the circus, when landing in a new town, they had sometimes met with antagonism from town residents.

The police would often harass them, constantly coming around about some robbery or other crime. The local crooks used the circus's presence as a cover for their increased activities.

Then, when on trips into the town for supplies, he and his parents had often had to run the gauntlet of insults.

"Gypsies, tramps and thieves certainly took on a new meaning." Dick had said sadly.

"Mum and Dad taught me that these people didn't know any better and it was only because we lived a different lifestyle they didn't understand anything about. I learnt to ignore the insults."

He had added.

"It was hard though when the town's kids would try to beat me up. I had no choice but to defend myself. There were a couple of times the police visited my parents because I had supposedly 'attacked' another kid. Yet they were the ones cheering and clapping when they came to the show."

Alfred had offered some words of sympathy, but Dick had just shrugged saying.

"I guess you just develop a thick skin."

Alfred snapped back from his recollections.

"Well I suppose I will be enlightened tonight" he thought as he continued on his journey home turning his contemplations to how he was going to occupy his few hours of leisure.

PART FOUR

True to his word Alfred was waiting in the same spot when Dick emerged from the school.

"Have a good day?" Alfred enquired

"Not bad," Dick responded with a grin remembering Alfred's parting remark, "You?"

"Oh I've had quite a productive day," returned Alfred as he started the Bentley up and manoeuvred his way past the other parked cars and headed for the gate.

"I managed to get caught up on some correspondence which I have neglected for some time. I also had another attempt at trying to contact my brother Wilfred."

"I didn't know you had a brother Alfred!" Dick said with amazement.

"Oh yes, I will tell you all about him one day, he leads an most extraordinary life." Alfred told him

"You don't do to bad in the extraordinary life stakes either," Dick laughed

Alfred flashed a smile at him and then concentrated on manoeuvring the car through the mass of traffic. Knowing it was no good pressing Alfred further; Dick spent the rest of the journey chatting to him about his day.

Pulling up outside the rear of the manor, Alfred instructed Dick to go get changed and meet him back in the kitchen.

Dick scampered up the stairs and along to his room, throwing his bag on the bed he delved into the closet to find his favourite jeans and T-shirt. Remembering to put his discarded uniform in the laundry basket. He donned the jeans, grabbed the letter from the desk drawer, pushed it into his back pocket and pulled the t-shirt over his head as he hurried back the way he had come, taking the opportunity to slide down the broad banisters.

"Dinner will not be long," Alfred advised him, "Did you wash your hands?"

"Yes." Dick lied, trying to look as if he wasn't.

Alfred looked at him with that 'I know you haven't' look and indicated with his head to the sink.

Dick grinned, why he tried to pull a fast one on Alfred he would never know. You just couldn't get one over this guy.

Knowing exactly what Alfred meant he sheepishly went to the sink and dutifully washed his hands.

"Ok sit yourself down, dinner is served," Alfred said with a theatrical flourish.

He placed a plate of food in front of Dick and another in the place he had set for himself.

Dick looked at the plate with some concern.

"Err, what is it?" He asked with some suspicion in his voice.

"Its pie 'n' mushy peas," Alfred explained. "I had a sudden hankering for some good old fashioned British cuisine." He continued with a grin.

Dick again eyed the meal with apprehension.

"At least give it a try young man." Alfred urged. "You may be surprised."

Dick picked up his fork and poked at the mushy peas. It looked like very thick lumpy pea soup, and was an alarmingly bright green colour. He tentatively forked a small amount into his mouth.

"Hmmmm, not bad," he said, still sounding dubious.

"Try adding this," Alfred indicated, pushing the condiment set towards him.

"A little salt and pepper and then some mint sauce." He instructed.

Dick cautiously followed Alfred's instructions, and then re-tried the 'mushy' peas.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. They were really quite good with the additional condiments.

"I knew you would like them." Alfred smiled.

The, home made, pie consisted of succulent pieces of beef with potato and a little onion, in rich gravy, encased in a melt in the mouth flaky pastry. It smelt wonderful. Once he started Dick attacked the meal with relish. Strange as the combination was it was delicious. He sat back once he had finished and rubbed his stomach.

"I never thought I would have liked something so odd." He said appreciatively. "Will Bruce be having the same?" he added.

"Well he will have the pie but I reckon he wouldn't appreciate the peas. They do have a rather amusing after effect." Alfred grinned, "so he will get fresh vegetables with his."

"Where is he?" Dick enquired, not daring to ask about the 'after effects'.

"He went into the office this afternoon, and I haven't a clue when he will be home I'm afraid."

Alfred informed him.

"Now how about some pudding, do you think you have room?"

"Yes, yes please." Dick responded eagerly.

Alfred took the plates to the dishwasher and after loading them into it, went over to the range and brought out a steaming dish. He placed slices of the contents of the dish into deep bowls and then poured something over them from a jug. He brought the bowls over and placed one in front of Dick.

"What's this?" Dick asked eyeing the spongy cake like contents.

It appeared to be full of currents, raisins and sultanas. A thick creamy yellow vanilla smelling custard accompanied it. Alfred sat down and picked up his spoon before he answered.

"Its another great British dish," he explained. "Fondly remembered from my schooldays."

Dick watched in amazement as Alfred's face cracked into the broadest grin he had ever seen. Then Alfred spluttered and laughed, as with some difficulty he tried to explain.

"Alfred? What's so funny?" Dick asked, also beginning to laugh without knowing why.

"Ohh!" Alfred struggled to regain his composure, "Ohh, it hadn't occurred to me how funny it was!" His shoulders shook with laughter.

"Alfred! What!" Dick cried with impatient expectancy.

"It's a suet pudding," Alfred began,

"Yes," Dick urged. "Why is that so funny?"

"Its called, it's called, 'S, SP, Spotted Dick'!" Alfred now collapsed in fits of laughter, tears running from his eyes.

Dick just looked at Alfred, his mouth agog with amazement.

"What!" He exclaimed eventually, as much surprised at Alfred's amusement as to what he had heard. "What!"

"I'm sorry young man," Alfred said through his laughter. "Its called Spotted Dick!"

"You are kidding, aren't you?" Dick asked now beginning to laugh harder.

"Afraid not." Alfred informed him unable to speak further because of the laughter.

Dick couldn't help joining in. Now and again he would repeat

"Spotted Dick!" and a fresh wave of amusement would shake them both. It took a while before any semblance of composure returned to the both of them.

"Come on eat up before it gets cold." Alfred said still hiccupping slightly from the attack of mirth.

Silence fell as they both ate, lingering over the last mouthful. Again, despite the strange name, it was simply delicious.

Dick picked up his and Alfred's empty bowls and added them to the dishwasher.

"Thank you young man," Alfred said with appreciation. "Now what would you say to a mug of tea? Then we can discuss your problem."

"Ok, that sounds great."

Dick liked Alfred's tea. It was strong and dark, and Alfred's 'cure all'. Alfred put the kettle on to boil the water and prepared the teapot.

"Tea making is such a ritual." Dick thought as he watched.

At last they were settled at the table with a steaming mug in front of each of them.

"Right, now then what seems to be the problem?" Alfred asked sounding like a doctor.

Dick handed him the letter.

"I think if you read this you will understand." He said.

Alfred read the letter in silence, and then took a sip of his tea. He took off his glasses and looked over at Dick.

"Well as I see it, its something only you can decide." He said slowly.

Dicks face fell; he had hoped that Alfred would have been able to help make his mind up for him.

"But, whatever you do decide to do, you have my assurance that I will support that decision" Alfred went on.

"Its hard to know what to do Alfred." Dick said imploringly. "I wouldn't want Bruce to think me disloyal or anything."

"I don't think he would think anything of the sort." Alfred assured him. "I get the impression you have almost decided which way to go, you just wanted someone's blessing, am I right?"

"Well I guess so, but……….."

"Follow your heart young man," Alfred interrupted. "Follow your heart."

Dick sat at the table and finished drinking his tea whilst Alfred busied himself clearing away the rest of the dishes and pans.

"Which way will my heart lead me?" he mused. Then, almost as if a light had been turned on in his head, he knew what he had to do.

"Alfred, I know what I'm going to do," he announced. "And I will need your help."

"Alright then, I think we had better have another cuppa and then get down to the planning." Alfred responded wiping his hands on a towel. He put the kettle on to boil again.

Alfred placed the large teapot on the table along with the milk jug and a plate of home made biscuits. Well that's what Alfred called them, not cookies.

"Boy you're spoiling me tonight Alfred." Dick said with some surprise.

"I think we will need these to help with the planning and dunking them in your tea helps you think," Alfred said with a knowing look.

He then collected a notebook and a pen from a drawer and settled himself at the table across from Dick.

"OK!" he declared opening the notebook, pen in hand poised to write, "Tell me your idea."

"Well, I reckon that…" Dick began.

PART FIVE

Bruce was watching the flickering images on the screen in front of him, totally absorbed in what he was seeing.

They were C.C.T.V. pictures of several streets around the bars and nightclub areas of Gotham.

His concentration was curtailed when a hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Bruce?"

Bruce straightened up and turned in the swivel chair. Dick was looking at him with some apprehension.

"You ok?" He asked

"I'm fine." Bruce replied, "What do you want?"

"Nothing really, I was just worried about you, you look so tired. Isn't there anything I can do to help?" Dick asked.

Bruce rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. How did Dick manage to always creep up on him like that?

"Well I guess it would be a good time for you to come out with me on surveillance." Bruce conceded.

"Ok, what are we actually looking for?" Dick asked, now with a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Well, believe it or not there have been complaints, from the various gang bosses, no less, that someone is flooding the streets with a very cheap, but effective drug. Consequently the usual dealers are losing money, a lot of money and it's threatening to put them out of business." Bruce explained.

"What does this drug do?" Dick asked as he watched the monitor.

"Well it would seem it gives the user a high, like ecstasy or ketamine, but it's not either of those. In fact it's hard to say just what it is. What I also can't seem to be able to figure out is how it's being distributed."

"Any ideas as to who's behind it?" Dick enquired.

"Not as yet, they haven't seen fit to reveal themselves." Bruce informed him. "Come on then, suit up and lets get out there."

Dick didn't hesitate just in case Bruce changed his mind.

PART SIX

Dick sat at the desk in his room absentmindedly gazing out of the window over the extensive sun lit grounds of Wayne Manor. On the desk was a notepad where he had been scribbling down ideas as to the source of this new drug 'epidemic' amongst other doodles.

"What had they called it?" he mused "mind mapping?"

He chewed the end of his pen…………………………………………………..

"Master Dick!" Alfred called out as he entered the room "Master Dick, where are you?"

Alfred knew Dick had been in his study room but now there was no sign of him anywhere, both he and Bruce were becoming alarmed. He went over to check the bathroom, but found it empty.

"Master Dick," he called out again.

"Were are you?" Alfred said with some exasperation, "This is no time for hide and seek."

He turned to head for the door when his exit was halted by a small noise. Alfred stood and listened. There it was again.

"Master Grayson is that you?" He called out heading towards the walk in closet, the apparent source of the noise.

He pulled the door open and stood listening. The sounds had stopped.

"Are you in here?" he called, his eyes sweeping the clothes racks.

Then there was a small almost imperceptible rustle from the very back corner of the small room.

Alfred pushed aside the clothes and huddled in a ball, squeezed up as tight as he could get to the corner, was Dick.

"Well, well. There you are." Alfred chided as he bent down towards Dick.

Dick screamed, a long, loud ear shattering scream, and tried to get further away from Alfred.

"No!" He screamed "Go away, leave me alone, NO! NO! NO!" He flailed his arms about as if trying to fend something off.

"Nooooooooooooooooo!" his cries became unintelligible.

"Dick!" Alfred said gently, perplexed by this reaction.

"Young man, whatever's the matter?"

Dick remained huddled in the corner, quivering.

"Have you found him?" Bruce called entering the bedroom.

"Master Bruce, something is very wrong here." Alfred informed him

Bruce reached Alfred's side, Alfred indicated towards Dick.

"He just screamed at me to go away, as if he was scared, no petrified!" Alfred described what had occurred.

Bruce crouched down in front of Dick, but Dick reacted in the same way to him as he had to Alfred, this time hitting out and catching Bruce repeatedly with his fists.

Bruce grabbed hold of him firmly restraining him and then lifted him to his feet. Dick screamed again and fought like a wildcat to escape.

Bruce gripped Dick tighter, lifted him and carried him into the bedroom. He dropped Dick onto the bed, immediately he rolled off the other side and half crawled on hands and feet rapidly towards the door, making a strange crying sound. Alfred anticipating this had cut off his route. Seeing him Dick turned and crashed into a set of drawers, only to collapse again in a fit of terror, and curling up in a ball in the corner, shaking uncontrollably.

"Alfred I think you had better ring for the Doctor." Bruce instructed as he moved to Dicks side.

He sank down beside the shaking boy and, despite Dick's attempts to stop him, put his arm around his shoulders, gripping him tightly to prevent any further outbursts of violence and possible injury. He could feel Dicks heartbeat racing, sweat was pouring from every pore, his hair plastered to his head. He was shaking and mumbling incoherently.

"The Doctor says she is on her way. It will take her about twenty minutes." Alfred informed Bruce as he replaced the receiver.

Bruce glanced at the clock.

"OK. Alfred. What's wrong with him?" He said with concern. "If I didn't know better I would say he's having a bad 'trip'."

Dick's frantic fight began in earnest again as he squirmed and fought against Bruce, hitting him and crying out unintelligibly.

"Richard John Grayson!" Bruce shouted sharply "Just stop all this nonsense and calm down!"

Dick's struggles stopped as if startled by the sharpness in Bruce's voice.

"That's better." Bruce continued. "Come on what's wrong? Tell me." He ordered.

Dick stared at him, his eyes wide as saucers. Although his fighting stopped he was still shaking uncontrollably. He didn't answer. Tears were now streaming down his face and his nose was running. Bruce attempted to lift him from the floor, but as he did so he felt the panic start to rise in Dick again as his struggles resumed.

"Ok, Ok, we'll stay here if that's what you want, it's ok." Bruce assured him softly. "You're safe nothing or no one is going to hurt you."

Still pushing away from Bruce, Dick's agitation abated a little. He was still sweating profusely and shaking.

"The Doctor will be here soon." Bruce assured him, not knowing if Dick could actually understand him at this point. Bruce stroked Dick's damp hair back from his face.

Dick began to keen mournfully and rock to and fro.

Bruce, feeling total helpless, could only sit beside him and watch to make sure that Dick didn't harm himself……………………………………………………………….

Alfred entered the room with the Doctor hurrying in behind him. As she approached Dick he vomited violently.

"Oh dear we are in a mess." She said kindly. "Lets see what's causing this." She knelt down beside Dick and Bruce.

Dick, still with the look of fear in his eyes leaned back against the side of the drawers. He began keening again but now it was quieter.

"I've tried to move him from here a couple of times." Bruce informed her, "but he just fought me, and totally freaked out." Bruce gave the doctor a brief update on what had been happening.

"I see," she answered "Well I think we should try and move him to the bed now so I can examine him easier. The fight looks to have gone out of him."

Bruce stood and then scooped Dick up and quickly moving over to the bed placed Dick gently down. Dick began to toss and roll about. The Doctor placed her hand on his forehead.

"Shush, shush shush," she intoned softly.

Dick threw up again, groaning, gagging and spluttering he coiled into a foetal position. Bruce noticed that he had wet himself.

Delving into her bag the Doctor retrieved her stethoscope and electronic thermometer. She pressed the thermometer into Dicks ear. The reading indicated that he was burning up. Despite this he had now begun to shiver violently. With Bruce's assistance the doctor managed to turn Dick enough for her to check his other vital signs. Dick began to struggle as she tried to place the blood pressure monitor cuff around his arm.

"Now now," she chided softly. "What has he taken?" the Doctor asked looking round at Bruce quizzically.

"I've no idea, have you Alfred?" Bruce turned to the Butler who was emerging from the bathroom with a wet towel.

"I can't say that I know, or even how long he has been this way." Alfred told them both.

"In that case I need to take some blood from him, can you hold him in case he starts to jump around again please Bruce." The doctor instructed as she readied the implements.

Dick tried to fight against Bruce as he lifted him, and then sat on the bed with Dicks back against him in order to restrain him by encircling his arms around the boy, but by now Dick was exhausted and his physical protestations were ineffective against Bruce's firm embrace.

Alfred came over to the bedside and wiped Dick's face with the towel he had brought.

"Alfred could you help hold his arm too, please?" The Doctor asked.

She deftly wound the tourniquet around Dicks upper arm, and Alfred firmly held on to it as the doctor tapped the inside of Dicks elbow to bring the vein up.

"Ok young man, just a small jab………………..there, that was easy…………..shush now, nearly done…………………there we are." She removed the needle from Dick's arm.

She handed the blood sample to Alfred.

"I think we will get the results quicker if you analyse them down stairs." She said winking at him.

"Yes ma'am." Alfred acknowledged and hurried off.

"He's definitely taken something, his vital signs indicate as much, but as to what?" The Doctor shrugged as she looked at Bruce.

"I dare not give him anything in case it counteracts with what's in his system. I think it's a case of letting it run its course and just monitoring him." She concluded.

"How long will that be?" Bruce asked

"I have no idea, He's a strong healthy guy, but with an unknown, well your guess is as good as mine." She went on "Lets get him cleaned up a bit and make him more comfortable, at least he seems to have calmed down a bit now."

Dick sank, mercifully, into unconsciousness.

Bruce and the Doctor where sat talking in the easy chairs by the fireplace when Alfred returned with the print out of the analysis of Dick's blood sample. He handed it to the Doctor who studied it, raising her eyebrows she handed it to Bruce.

"Its nothing I've seen before." She commented. "You?"

"No, its odd don't you think?" Bruce asked. "Any ideas Alfred?"

"No sir."

Dick groaned and stirred, the Doctor went over to check on him. He was still not awake. She went through the procedures of checking his vital signs, temperature, blood pressure etc. As she was writing down the results on a chart she exclaimed

"Bother!"

"Something wrong?" Bruce asked anxiously approaching the bed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, my pen just gave out, you wouldn't have one I could use would you?"

"Master Dick will have one in his desk," Alfred volunteered as he headed in the direction of the small study room.

"Sir, look at this." Alfred handed Bruce a pen, chewed at the end with the plastic end cap missing.

"It seems to have something in it." Alfred indicated, drawing Bruce's attention to a small amount of a clear gel oozing out of the chewed end.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked

"I have a feeling that this may be what is in Dick's system right now." Bruce deduced.

"Alfred, go run it through the spectrometer. All we have to do then is find out how Dick got a hold of the pen."

Bruce suddenly had the look of someone who had had a brainwave.

"You know Doc, this could just be how the drug problem the city is experiencing now is being orchestrated. It has been hinted at that its something new, Dick has inadvertently given us a lead." He rationalised.

"If what was in the pen is what has caused Dick's reaction, then I believe you may be right." The Doctor agreed. "Poor kid." She added sadly.

Bruce jerked his head up.

"He will be ok, wont he?"

"I'm sure he will be, but don't fret, I'm here for the duration just in case." The Doctor soothed and patting Bruce on the arm matronly, she went to check on Dick again.

The intercom phone pealed, Bruce caught up the handset and listened. Replacing it he stood for a moment gathering his thoughts.

"The gel had the same chemical components as were in Dick's blood." He informed the Doctor………………………………………………………

Dick opened his eyes and groaned as he was forced to shut them rapidly. His head ached as if he had an army of jackhammers inside. His whole body hurt.

His tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth, which was devoid of any moisture and had a sour rancid taste.

Again he tried to open his eyes, but the jackhammers just pounded louder.

"You back with us sweetie?" A female voice broke through the loud hammering.

He felt a cool hand stroke his hair back from his face.

"Dick?"

He slowly forced his eyes partially open. A face swam in front of him. As he gradually began to focus he recognised the Doctor.

He tried to speak but the 'glue' held his tongue fast and he only managed a small groan in his throat. That too felt like he had ground glass rolling around in it. His eyelid was lifted and a bright light was shone in it. He tried to close his eyes and move his head away, but this only caused him further excruciating discomfort. He felt something damp touch his lips, dabbing them gently. It was welcomingly cool and began to ease the stickiness from them.

He felt an arm snake around his shoulders and he was lifted slightly, supported by someone's shoulder. He tried to suppress the groan of pain this brought but failed. Something cool and hard touched his lips, and then water trickled into his parched mouth. He tried to drink faster but the cup was taken away.

"Steady now, steady. You need to take it slowly." The Doctor urged as she placed the cup back to his lips. A few more drops and his tongue parted company with the roof of his mouth.

"What happened?" He managed to croak

"Shhhhh, don't try and talk just try and relax now." Bruce said gently as he lay Dick down again.

"B, but I…………" The doctor laid her finger on his lips to stop him

"Bruce is right, there is plenty of time for explanations later, we need to make sure you are ok first."

"Can I have some more water?" Dick croaked.

"Of course, lets get you propped up a bit again first." The Doctor suggested.

Bruce gently lifted Dick forward and the Doctor mounded the pillows into a supportive inverted 'U' shape. Bruce lay him slowly back down.

The Doctor pressed the cup to Dick's lips, and he tried to take it from her.

"No, no, its ok I have it, you just drink slowly." She softly chided.

After a few mouthfuls Dick turned his head away.

"Had enough?" the Doctor asked. Dick nodded, then wished he hadn't as the action started another wave of pain in his head.

"I can't give you anything to help," the Doctor informed him having noticed Dicks eyes screw up in a grimace.

"I'm sorry sweetheart but you are just going to have to let this run its course. Hopefully it won't last too long."

Bruce patted Dick's shoulder.

"Close your eyes and try and rest now," He instructed. "You and I need to talk later."

A tear squeezed from under Dick's eyelid and trickled down his cheek.

"I'm so, so sorry Bruce." He whispered. "Sorry."

"I'm not mad at you, oh Dick, don't think that." Bruce bent over him and put his hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Come on now get some rest."

Dick closed his eyes, he felt as if the whole bed was lurching and swaying, then spinning. He couldn't remember having felt so ill before. He opened his eyes again but it didn't stop the sensation of uncontrollable movement. His stomach began to protest and he felt the bile rise to his throat. He struggled to sit up.

"I'm gonna be sick again!" He spluttered to no one in particular, trying desperately to reach the edge of the bed. Bruce and the Doctor reached him simultaneously, but it was too late.

Dick grasped his stomach as he retched over and over again. His stomach cramped painfully as spasm after spasm contracted his muscles. The Doctor held Dick's head and made soothing noises as yet another spasm gripped him. He was dry retching painfully as his stomach was empty now. Panting and gasping Dick tried to roll onto his back but he just couldn't find the strength, the effort seemed to induce another nauseous bout.

"I'm going to give you and anti-emetic." The Doctor announced. "I think it will be alright now. If you carry on like this it will do you no good at all. You'll end up totally dehydrated."

"A' anti what?" Dick asked weakly, eyeing the Doctor suspiciously.

"Something to stop you being sick sweetheart." She explained.

She moved away to retrieve her bag. Dick became aware that Bruce was sat on the other side of him, as he placed his hand on Dick's lower back and rubbed it gently. The Doctor came back and sat down on the bed. She was drawing up something into a needle. Dick felt panic begin to flutter in his stomach again, but he had nothing left in him to protest. He just squeezed his eyes shut

"Ok all done." The Doctor announced. Dick hadn't even felt the injection.

" I think it would be a good idea if we got the young Master out of bed and let him freshen up and change his clothes." Alfred suggested. "I can then change the bed linen, it can't be comfortable laying in soiled sheets."

Dick sniffed and turned bright red with embarrassment.

"Come on Sunshine, Alfred's got a point." Bruce concurred as he lifted Dick out of the bed and headed towards the bathroom with him.

"I'd better give you a hand." The Doctor said following them.

Dick reclined comfortably on the mountain of soft clean smelling pillows. He felt an awful lot better now. The pain in his head had receded to a dull ache. The cramping in his stomach had stopped thanks to the injection the Doctor had given him earlier, and the bath Bruce and the Doctor had helped him with had eased a lot of the aches and pains that had wracked his body.

He had been mortified at first when they had begun to strip away his soiled clothes, but he was far too weak to fight and, well it was the only Bruce and the Doctor after all.

Alfred poured a fresh glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and handed it to Dick.

"Thanks Alfred." Dick sipped the water. "Where did Bruce and the Doctor go?" He enquired.

"Master Bruce is just seeing the Doctor out. She is satisfied that you will be all right now but recommends you have a couple of days of bed rest."

"Alfred, I think I made a fool of myself didn't I?" Dick lowered his eyes and picked at the covers nervously.

"My dear boy, it was not your fault at all. I admit you gave us all a scare, but you are going to be alright now." Alfred reassured him, tucking the covers around Dick.

Alfred withdrew as Bruce came back into the bedroom. He came over to the bed and sat down; swinging his legs up onto the bed he reclined against the pillows. Dick eyed him with some surprise.

"How you feeling now?" Bruce asked him.

"Err, I feel better than I did, but I'm really tired." Dick confessed.

"Are you up to a little talk?" Bruce asked

"Well I guess if I have to," Dick sounded cautious.

"All I really need to know is where did you get the pen that you were using?"

"Pen?" Dicks mind raced to try and retrieve the information. "Oh, I, I," he tried to remember, frowning.

"It was from school, I remember now, my pen ran out and I hadn't got another one, well not of the same colour anyway. Sammy lent it me, he said he had borrowed some from his brother as he had loads of them."

"He didn't say where his brother had got them from did he?" Bruce asked as he sat up and turned to face Dick.

"No I don't think so, at least I don't remember. Why?" Dick looked puzzled.

"Well it would seem that there was a drug in the pen, and when you chewed the end you must have swallowed some." Bruce went on.

"I had better get in touch with the school and get the Principal to check if Sammy lent anyone else a pen. Oh and inform them that you won't be in for a couple of days at least." Bruce winked at him. Then his eyes lit up with a sudden realisation.

"I think I now know how the pens are being distributed, in fact I think it was in front of our eyes all the time. Did you notice those street vendors?" He asked Dick.

Dick nodded cautiously to avoid the pain.

"There were a couple selling mainly pens, amongst other things, and then there were some 'charity' stalls, they too were handing out pens in return for donations. It was right there under our noses and we didn't see it." He continued angrily.

"I will have to check for certain. I think Sammy's brother is going to get a visit from Batman later. Maybe he can help shed some further light on things."

"Bruce," Dick interrupted, "Bruce, what was it you said the street name for the new drug was?"

"Quill, why?……………………..Of course, how could I have been so stupid," Bruce banged the heel of his hand into his forehead.

"Neither of us realised though did we?" Dick sympathised. "I'm sure Sammy didn't know about what was in the pens either though." He added.

"I'm sure he didn't, but I'm betting his brother does." Bruce deduced.

"Hmmmm," Dick yawned.

"Ok, enough for now, you get some sleep." Bruce stood up, "I had better get started, there's no rest for the wicked as they say."

Dick lay gazing at the door through which Bruce had just exited, he was disappointed he couldn't join him, but just thinking about it right now was more than he felt he could do. He yawned again……………………………..

"Young man," The soft voice broke through his daydream.

"Master Dick, I know you are tired but I just want to make sure you are drinking plenty, you are rather dehydrated."

"Ok, Alfred." Dick acknowledged, "I will, I was just dozing off to sleep though."

"I'm sorry sir." Alfred apologised and turned to leave.

"Its Ok, Alfred," Dick called after him. "Alfred, what we talked about, its still ok isn't it. I mean this isn't going to stop it is it?"

"Oh I shouldn't think so, I'm sure you will be right as rain in a couple of days. Now don't forget drink plenty of that water." Alfred stressed again.

"No I wont." Dick muttered wearily. "No I wont."

PART SEVEN

Batman was following a tall lanky youth. He had picked up the tail as the young man had left his home. He wanted to see if he purchased some more pens before he questioned him.

At the end of the street the youth had waited for about ten minutes when a car with another three young men picked him up. The Batmobile glided noiselessly after them, heading towards the city centre.

It was an easy task to trail the car as it took a direct route into the City, stopping once at a service station to collect fuel. Navigating the one-way system the car eventually turned into one of the city centre multi- story car parks and Batman turned the Batmobile in to follow them, parking it in a darkened corner he continued on foot.

Totally unaware that they were being followed the youths made it easy. They were laughing, shouting and fooling around kicking a can to each other. They were heading in the direction of one of the most popular nightspots in the city. Batman took to the roofs; it was easier to keep them in sight. He had to find a way of isolating his target if or when he bought a pen.

"There!" Batman exclaimed to himself.

Outside the nightclub was a man with a tray suspended on a cord around his neck. It was full of pens. Batman descended to a lower vantage point. Using his small monocular he could see that the tray had a sign bearing the legend,

'ALL PROCEEDS TO GO TO SHELTER', suggesting it was for a well-known homeless persons charity.

It was obvious that the revellers were feeling very charitable tonight as the man was doing a roaring trade.

Batman following the shadows made his way over to the alley that emerged near where the collector had his pitch. He could now overhear what was being said. Some of the crowd just dropped a coin into the collection box and accepted a pen, but others asked.

"Have you got Quills?"

The vendor appeared to pick out a pen from a specific pile, and handing it over instructed.

"Minimum suggested donation $5."

Batman observed several such transactions; some received more than one pen.

The youth he had been following approached the vendor with his three friends. They bought several pens.

"Bingo!" Thought Batman as his quarry hung back briefly manoeuvring his wallet into his back pocket, his three friends wandering off towards the bright lights of the nightclub entrance. It gave him enough time to snatch the young man into the alley, and firing his grappling hook and line, rise swiftly back to the rooftops with him

The young man was gasping.

"What the ?" He exclaimed. "What you doing, what's going on?" He eyed Batman with fear and apprehension.

"I just wanted a word with you about your choice of writing implements." Batman informed him, speaking with veiled menace.

"What, hey, come on you cant do this." The youth protested.

"You are James Nicholson, you have a younger brother called Sammy don't you?" Batman asked him ignoring the protestations.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Just making sure I have the right person. You were annoyed with him earlier tonight right? You had quite a row with him in fact."

James stared at Batman eyes wide in amazement.

"How'd you know?" He spluttered.

"That's unimportant right now. What I need to know is what you know about the pens, more specifically 'Quill' pens." Batman demanded.

"Hey all I know is how to buy them. Nothing else." James protested angrily. "First time, one was given to me by a guy in the club, he showed me how to go on and then said were I could get more."

"Who was the guy?" Batman pressed for more information.

"I dunno, I hadn't seen him before."

"You are sure about that?" Batman insisted.

"Yeah, yeah……………..Hey come on, why you picking on me?" James protested angrily.

"You aught to be more careful as to where you leave your 'Quills'. Because of your carelessness a young man has been very ill." Batman snarled.

"Thankfully he's ok, but it could have been far worse. He could have died, as others could too including your brother."

"You can't blame me for that, Sammy nicked them, he should keep his mitts off my stuff." James protested again.

"Hey! They're mine." He cried as Batman relieved him of the pens that were shoved in his shirt breast pocket.

"Lets just say they're evidence." Batman said threateningly.

"I will be watching you, and I'm sure you're parents will be having more words with you later. You're brothers school has been fully appraised of the situation and the Principal will be in touch with them about the incident"

Batman grabbed James around the waist and dived over the edge of the roof, his line and grappling hook still attached. James tried to scream but he was deposited back on the ground before it even got past his lips. James turned around but the alley was empty. He shivered.

"Oh boy am I in trouble now." He thought to himself as he scurried off towards the club.

"I had better warn the others." He resolved.

Batman resumed his rooftop vigil. He was watching the 'charity' collector. Eventually the streets became quieter. The collector removed the tray and emptied the few remaining pens into a holdall. Glancing round suspiciously he strode off, Batman following. They retraced the route that James and his friends had taken, and entered the same car park. Batman observed the man climb into a dark scruffy blue transit van. As he did so Batman overheard a snippet of conversation.

"The others not back yet?"

"No we have to wait."

The van doors slammed shut. Batman hurried to retrieve the Batmobile, but not before he had crept up and placed a homing device under the van.

"Now we will see." He said under his breath, as he settled back to wait for the van to make a move.

"Hopefully they will lead me to were the drug is being made."

He didn't have to wait long before four more men appeared and climbed into the back of the van. Its engine coughed and started noisily. Batman followed at a safe distance, able to follow the route the van took from the map screen on the dashboard.

Gradually the landscape altered from affluent to run down boarded up shops and offices. Day glow graffiti covered the walls and 'for let' and 'for sale' signs that sprung up like monuments all around. Defunct factory sites, with broken windows looked down on dingy litter strewn streets.

The few people around were like shadows, hiding in doorways or fading away down side streets away from the headlights. The odd light at a dingy window indicated the presence of this community, clinging to life by its fingernails.

Mangy dogs roamed and foraged for scraps in the overflowing bins, fighting with each other noisily over what they found. Cats with florescent yellow green eyes slinked past stalking silently for prey, or sat surveying the night, with the air of presumption that they owned the neighbourhood, chorusing their asseveration to anyone who may be listening.

Most of the streetlights were broken, those that were not seemed dim or flickered menacingly.

The air seemed dank and mournful filled with the effluvium of the long forgotten.

The bright green dot on the dashboard display had stopped moving. As he continued past the location Batman could see the van parked down the side of a large factory and storage facility. At first sight it seemed as abandoned and derelict as all the others around it.

Finding a suitable hidden spot Batman left the car and headed back to the factory.

Scouting the perimeter he concluded that entry from above would be the most prudent mode of attack. As if to confirm his decision he came upon a fire escape. Glancing upwards he saw that it led to the roof. He quickly and silently climbed up the metal stairs. The roof offered several means of entry to the building, skylights and a door.

"Hmmm, I'm betting that the door will be alarmed." Batman muttered to himself.

He knelt beside a skylight. It was too dirty to see through. Using a tool from his utility belt he cut a neat hole in the glass, preventing it from falling through with a suction devise. He risked using his torch to visually explore the skylight and the floor below. Strangely the Skylight did not seem to be alarmed. He cautiously pulled at the skylight, which resisted at first, but with some effort it opened and he dropped through the opening.

He swept his torch across the room; the floor was littered with mounds of rubbish and years of accumulated dirt. The accoutrements of drug usage were mixed with skeletons of dead pigeons and mice and other unidentifiable long departed creatures. There was a strong smell of urine and excrement mixed with the fetid odour of decay.

Treading carefully he made his way over to the large grey double doors at one end of the large room. Pushing one door carefully to test if it made a noise, he slipped through the gap and found himself on a landing with concrete stairs leading down.

Dousing the torch, Batman stood and listened, but no sounds greeted him. Switching the torch back on, he made his way down first one flight of rubbish strewn steps, paused on the next landing, and then continued down to the next floor. Another set of peeling blue double doors confronted him. A brief appraisal showed that this floor comprised of separate office compartments divided by shoulder high screens, some broken or overturned. His reconnaissance showed that this floor too was empty.

Making his way down again to the next floor, Batman began to pick up a sound, a deep monotonous droning noise. He sidled up to the now green double doors and peeked through the window at the top. Arranged in rows down both sides of the long room were bunk beds. There were peoples personal belongings hung on pegs alongside, with mismatched cupboards and drawers in-between each bed. This was obviously a dormitory.

"For whom? Batman thought. "Workers?" he considered.

Sensing he was getting close to the target Batman became even more cautiously alert as he descended the concrete stairs to the next floor. The humming sound was becoming more audible. He doused the torch once more.

He entered through doors identical to the ones before but now cream, and found himself in a long drab corridor the bottom half of which was painted dark green and the top a dreary nicotine yellow separated by a broad black line. Dim caged lights at wide intervals illuminated the corridor. Bright light was coming through the half glass doors that were leading off it. Cautiously approaching, he peered through.

Inside it was a hive of activity. Mechanical mixers were stirring large steaming malodorous vats. Pipes led to other containers suspended above long tables, tubes dangling from these to a small army of workers, of numerous ethnic persuasions, engrossed in their task. A forklift truck was moving to and fro moving pallets full of boxes from the end of the production line to a storage area. Several others, presumably supervisors, stood to one side wearing white coats, some with clipboards.

Hearing voices approaching from the other end of the corridor Batman sank back into the dark shadows of a deep recess, created by several cabinets that stood against the wall.

As the voices drew closer, Batman realised it wasn't English they were speaking. The voices belonged to three men wearing expensive designer suits. They swept through the doors into the 'factory'.

"Chinese!" He exclaimed to himself as he slipped back to his observation point.

The three men he had just seen enter were having a heated discussion. One marched over to one of the workers and dragged him from his stool and back over to the other two men. The worker was thrown to his knees; he crouched in a pleading posture.

After some fist shaking and angry gesticulating, at the poor worker, by one of the three men who seemed to be in overall charge, the other two began to beat the worker, kicking and hitting him viciously. Batman made to go in and rescue the man then hesitated, his instincts were to wade in and help the poor guy, but there were too many others for him to realistically deal with alone.

"Better leave this to the police." He decided.

The one who appeared to be in charged turned and as he headed for the door. Batman realised he knew him! In fact Bruce Wayne had had to fight off an underhanded take over attempt by this guy on one of his companies a couple of years ago. The failure at the attempt had left the man very bitter and threatening reprisals.

" Kai Han! The Dai lo dai (Chief of chiefs) of the Shadow Dragons." He exclaimed!

Batman slid back into his hiding place as Kai Han came back into the corridor. He had researched the guy after the take over attempt. Tracking him down had been difficult to say the least. He had discovered very little beyond his identity and involvement with the Shadow Dragons. He had appeared to disappear into obscurity.

"I guess that makes sense." Batman considered. "A Chinese take over attempt of the city, no wonder the other bosses are squealing, when they are being hit where it hurts most, in their wallets and in danger of losing overall control." He concluded. "But better the devil you know……………"

Watching till Kai Han disappeared from view, Batman slipped from his hiding place. He pushed through the double doors again and following the exit signs above other doors, made his way out of the building. Checking that the coast was clear he silently slipped around towards the rear, where he had noticed large doors and a loading bay on his first inspection. A black B.M.W. X-5 stood behind a tanker at the side of the loading bay.

" They must have arrived whilst I was in the building." He surmised.

As Batman manoeuvred around, he noticed the logo emblazoned on the tankers side.

'WAYNE ENTERPRISES'

"What the heck!" he exclaimed. This couldn't be one of his lorries surely! He noted down the registration to check on the computer log later.

Batman made his way back to the Batmobile and put a call in to Commissioner Gordon at Gotham Police. Efficiently giving all the details of the operation he had discovered, and who appeared to be behind it.

He sat in the darkened car until he saw the SWAT teams arrive. It was their bust now; he had other things he needed to clear up.

"This turned out rather too easy in the end." He considered, talking to himself. "Although the clues were so obvious we missed them initially."

Lingering a while longer until he saw the prisoners being brought out and loaded onto the black mobile police cells, Batman started up the Batmobile and eased his way out of his hiding place and set off towards the other side of the city and home.

PART EIGHT

Bruce replaced the receiver back in its cradle, and ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture.

"Sir"? Alfred asked.

"I don't believe it! The SWAT team managed to round everyone up except Kai Han and his two closest aides." Bruce explained with exasperation.

"Oh dear, that's not good at all." Alfred commiserated. "Not good at all."

Bruce dropped into an armchair, sitting forward with his chin resting on his hands in contemplation.

"Can I get you anything Sir?" Alfred enquired.

"I could do with some coffee Alfred I think its going to be a long day. Oh, How's Dick?" Bruce queried.

"He's much better this morning, in fact it's been all I can do to keep him in bed." Alfred informed him.

Bruce chuckled.

"Why does that not surprise me? I guess you can't keep a good man down eh?"

"I suppose not Sir." Alfred agreed as he departed for the kitchen to make the coffee.

Bruce snatched up the telephone again and thumped in a number. Tapping impatiently on the tabletop as he waited for the connection to be made.

"Accounts."

"Leonard Barbera, please." Bruce requested.

"Who shall I say is calling?" The faceless voice asked.

"Bruce Wayne."

"Oh! Yes Sir, putting you through now."

Bruce waited as the phone beeped, awaiting a response.

"Barbera, how may I help you?"

"Leonard, it's Bruce, I need you to arrange an audit, urgently."

"Ok Sir, erm, audit what exactly?"

"I think that chemicals have been diverted from our pharmaceutical manufacturing facility and have been used in the production of Quill. Commissioner Gordon has informed me that Tankers with Wayne Enterprise Logo's have been found in a recent raid. I need to know how and why this is so."

"I'm on the job now boss." Leonard quipped with a familiarity that grated on Bruce.

However Leonard was so good at what he did Bruce always let it go. He would be a hard talent to replace

"Let me know as quickly as possible." Bruce instructed. Dropping the receiver back down. He sank back in the armchair.

"Here's your coffee sir." Alfred placed a tray with a coffee pot, sugar bowl, cream jug and cup and saucer, on the side table. He poured out the strong aromatic liquid into the cup.

"Cream and sugar sir?" he asked.

"Please Alfred, I need all the energy I can get."

Alfred added the cream and sugar, and stirring the cup passed it to Bruce, who thanking him, sipped it, appreciatively.

"I suppose there is nothing I can do until Leonard gets back with the results." He said glumly. "Although looking for Kai Han is something I can be occupied with, I suppose."

"Sir, may I suggest you firstly try and get some rest, then maybe you could call Miss Weir. You have neglected her recently. A night out on the town might do you good. Help you see things in a new light."

"Alfred I may just do that. You're right I have been neglecting her. I'll give her a call now and arrange something."

Picking up the receiver yet again Bruce dialled Junes number.

"June it's Bruce, hi, I was wondering…………………………………………………"

Bruce and Alfred were stood in the doorway of the study in deep discussion about domestic arrangements, when a whirlwind, in the shape of Dick, blew down the stairs. Reaching the bottom and oblivious to the presence of Bruce and Alfred, Dick performed a flamenco that took him towards the corridor leading to the kitchens, his heels clicking out the tempo on the tiled surface.

Bruce and Alfred stared after him opened mouthed.

"I guess he's better then." Bruce laughed

"It would seem so Sir." Alfred concurred. "And that was not a bad flamenco either!"

"Hmmmm, full of surprises that boy, must be the gypsy in him don't you think?"

"I suppose you could call it that," Alfred agreed again as they both laughed.

"What's so funny?" Dick demanded appearing as if from nowhere a bottle of water in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

"Oh nothing, private joke that's all, and will you stop doing that!" Bruce teased.

"Doing what?" Dick asked with mock surprise,

"Creeping up on folk like that."

"Sorry," Dick called as he hurried away again.

"What are you doing now?" Bruce called after him.

"I'm gonna work out in the gym." Dicks voiced tailed away as he exited through the door.

Bruce shook his head in exasperation; he and Alfred just looked at each other and shrugged.

"Ok where were we?" Bruce asked and the two men continued their discussion.

It was approaching early evening, Alfred had lit the lamps on the side tables and they cast a warm comfortable glow. Bruce was busy at his desk in his study. The phone rang interrupting his work. Absentmindedly he lifted the receiver.

"Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce its Leonard, I've found some very disturbing anomalies." Came the excited response. Bristling at the use of his first name by an employee Bruce urged curtly,

"Go on."

"It would seem that all the amounts of chemicals in stock tally with what is in the order book, right." Leonard paused for effect.

"Yes, yes so?" Bruce was becoming impatient.

"Well I managed to uncover the second set of accounts. For every 'legit' order there was an extra tanker load being ordered and the shipment being diverted to the Quill factory. It would seem that it was the Night Manager who was behind it, guy name of Riley Scott."

"Did you question him about the matter?" Bruce asked.

"Err no but I did say you would be speaking to him, hope I didn't overstep the mark there?"

"Humph. Well, I suppose it was the right thing. I don't suppose you gave him a time did you?" Bruce asked unable to hide the sarcasm in his voice. If he heard it Leonard didn't show it.

"I told him first thing in the morning after he got of work."

"Okay. Okay, I guess that will be alright, as long as he doesn't do a runner." Bruce assented. "Have the paper work on my desk in time for me to go through the details before he arrives." He instructed as he replaced the receiver, gleaning a little revenge from this request knowing Leonard would have to be in at the crack of dawn to accomplish this.

"Bruce, is it ok to come in?" Dick asked standing in the doorway, a towel around his neck. He had obviously just had a shower.

"Yes, do." Bruce waved him in. "I'm finished here anyway. Did you want me for something?"

"No, no I just wondered if it was ok to 'hang out' with you a while, if you weren't busy?"

"Tell you what," Bruce suggested, "Why don't we go see if there's anything worth watching on T.V.? I'll ask Alfred to make us some popcorn. What do you think?"

"Sounds good to me." Dick enthused, as they left the study together to go to the lounge.

The movie they had decided to watch was about two thirds of the way through when Dick noticed with some amusement that Bruce appeared to be nodding off to sleep. Playfully he tossed a cushion at him, pretending he hadn't done it by giving the T.V. screen his full attention. He was startled when the cushion hit him at the side of the head, followed by a low chortle from Bruce. Dick looked round in apish surprise. Taking his life in his hands he threw the cushion back at Bruce hitting him square in the face, only to be the victim of an onslaught of cushion artillery. He managed to throw several pieces of this ammunition back, but was rendered incapable by laughter. He managed to dive over the back of the sofa but Bruce's aim was true. Dick tossed a few strays back from his defensive position before trying to make the door. He ducked down just as Alfred came into view and a large cushion hit him in a frontal assault.

"What on earth is going on here?" Alfred admonished. Dick had sunk to the floor holding his sides, in tears of laughter, Bruce was on his knees lent against the sofa, he too was laughing.

"Goodness I expected better behaviour than that from you." He went on. Both Bruce and Dick looked at each other with that 'oops we're in bother now' look. Alfred scooped up the cushion and made to replace it on the sofa. He picked up a couple more, then, unexpectedly he threw first one at Dick then the other at Bruce in rapid succession. Neither could react due to amazement.

"I certainly enjoyed that." Alfred declared. "Now boys, you just make sure you pick things up after you." He instructed as he, regaining his usual composure left the room.

"And on that note I think we had better call it a night and turn in." Bruce suggested. "Ok race you upstairs," he shouted over his shoulder as he ran past Dick. As Bruce reached the landing Dick was stood in his bedroom doorway.

"How on earth?" He said incredulously. Dick wagged a finger at him.

"That's for me to know." He chuckled. "Good night."

Bruce drove alone to the office in the grey early light of dawn. The streets hadn't yet become clogged with the mass of commuter traffic. In the distance to the east, between the high rise office blocks the sun was just beginning to peek through, sending shards of orange light slicing through the grey, and making the windows look like Tiffany stained glass.

Turning into the underground parking lot of the Wayne Enterprise building, he manoeuvred the car into his private parking space. Retrieving a stack of files and a briefcase from the trunk he made his way to the nearby private elevator. As the door hissed shut he keyed in his password and with barely perceived motion it rose almost silently to his office floor. The reception area was deserted; he didn't expect his P.A. Margaret to be in this early. His secretary Betty wouldn't be in till around eight thirty either. He actually relished the quiet this early start afforded him.

Checking Margaret's desk first to see if any messages had been left for him, finding Leonard Barbera's report there, he added it to the pile in his arms and entered his office. Depositing the files and briefcase on the desk, he opened the blinds then turned on the lights, before heading back through the reception area to the small kitchenette. He made himself a mug coffee and returned to his office.

Neatly stacking the files and placing the briefcase beside the desk, Bruce opened the report and began to read.

He was still reading when Margaret poked her head around the door to announce her arrival.

"Can I get you anything?" she inquired.

"Some more coffee would be appreciated." Bruce requested, lifting the now empty mug. Margaret came into the office to retrieve it. She had been with him for some time now and he felt that he certainly would be lost without her loyal, dedicated, coolly efficient service. She was quite the professional and could strike fear into anyone trying to contact or gain access to Bruce. No appointment no deal. She kept him in order too, admonishing him about tardy paperwork or office practices etc. Yet she also pampered him in a discrete way making sure little things, like his tie being straight etc or that he had eaten, were in order. She was a striking woman, always dressed smartly, if not soberly.

Betty too was as efficient. She was the matronly type who brought in samples of her home baking to accompany the coffee breaks, often bringing in something special for the 'boss'. For special occasions like birthdays she would produce a large cake, which never took long to be demolished.

Bruce always made sure that he showed them his appreciation by never forgetting their birthdays, and giving them gifts at Christmas. They both had to agree he was a 'real gentleman'.

Margaret took the mug and made towards the door.

"Margaret," Bruce called after her, "I'm hoping a guy named Riley Scott will appear this morning. I need to see him so don't turn him away." He instructed.

"I'll make a note of it." She acceded disappearing off to make more coffee.

Bruce turned his attention back to the report.

Margaret slipped back into the office and brought his fresh coffee over to the desk.

"Mr Scott is here already," she informed him with some displeasure. "He's here early isn't he? He also looks very worried."

"That's ok Margaret, give me ten minutes before you let him in would you." Margaret nodded.

"Should I offer him a coffee?" she asked tentatively.

"No, no need. I think we can dispense with the niceties in this case. Well that is until I have had a chance to hear his side of the story. It seems he is responsible for supplying chemicals courtesy of Wayne Enterprises for the manufacture of that new drug Quill." Bruce explained.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed. "What are you going to do?"

"I will hear him out first, and then make my decision accordingly. At least he has had the good grace to come here and face the music." Bruce concluded.

"Ok, I'll send him in ten minutes then." Margaret went back to her desk.

Margaret tapped on the door and opening it announced,

"Mr Scott here for you Mr Wayne."

"Send him in Margaret." Bruce instructed.

"This way Mr Scott." She directed showing Riley Scott in. The man was a quivering wreck. He looked very tired and was sweating profusely.

"Sit down." Bruce ordered indicating to a chair across the desk from him. Riley did as instructed, perching on the very edge. Bruce sat back and resting his elbows on the arms of his chair placed his fingertips together, his forefingers resting against his chin. He surveyed the man opposite.

"I know what has been happening and I am led to understand that you are responsible." Bruce began, indicating to the open report on the desk.

"I should dismiss you on the spot and refer the matter to the police, but given the serious nature of the crime I feel I need to hear why, from your own mouth, before I decide which course to embark on."

Riley Scott sat silently head down.

"Well!" Bruce demanded sharply.

Stuttering and haltingly Riley began.

"Mr Wayne, I know sorry isn't going to appease you. I know what I've done was so very wrong, believe you me if there had been any other way………" He tailed off as if struggling to find the words.

"I agree it would take more than an apology to amend the situation. I need to understand why you did it." Bruce informed him.

"I'm so ashamed, I've not only disgraced myself but my family too." Riley began again. "Ok, Its no excuse but this is what happened. I was up to my neck in gambling debts. I owed a lot of money. Then I was told someone else had bought my debt. Next thing I know I'm told that if I do a favour for these people my debt would be reduced and maybe I could work it off eventually.

When they told me what they wanted I wouldn't agree to it at first."

"Did you know the identity of these people?" Bruce asked.

"Not at first I didn't but then it became apparent they were Chinese." Riley told him.

"And it was redirecting chemicals that they wanted you to do?" Bruce pressed.

"Yes, I didn't want to do it and asked if I could pay off the debt in any other way. That's when, that's when." Riley dropped his head and tears began to stream down his face.

"That's when what?" Bruce asked a little more kindly.

"They blackmailed me, they told me my wife and two young daughters would be killed if I refused. They had pictures of them and knew where they went all the time. They told me they were being watched.

They even killed the girl's pet rabbit as a warning. The girls thought it was a dog that had got hold of it. I let them think that, how could I tell them the truth?

They told me in detail what they would do to them before they killed them, and that I would be made to watch, before it would be my turn to die, very slowly." Riley slumped in the chair totally defeated and crying.

Bruce sat silently for a while, turning this information over in his head. "What to do?" he thought.

"Ok. Riley, I'm sure you agree that I can not possibly allow this to go unpunished".

Riley looked up at Bruce and nodded.

"I only have your word that this blackmail story is true."

"Mr Wayne, please, please believe me I wouldn't have done anything like this if it wasn't." Riley interrupted pleading.

Bruce pressed the intercom button.

"Margaret could you step in here a moment please." Bruce asked. When she entered Bruce instructed her to take Riley to the conference room and to offer him coffee.

"I need a while to decide what I'm to do. I feel that you are telling the truth and at least you have not tried to deny your involvement." Bruce informed him "Coming here to face the music at least shows some attrition on your part."

"Thank you Mr Wayne, thank you." Riley declared as Margaret led him out of the office.

"Don't thank me yet Mr Scott, you may not like what I decide to do with you." Bruce cautioned.

Margaret ushered Riley Scott back into the office. Bruce indicated that he should sit back in the same chair.

"I've made some phone calls, Mr Scott." Bruce informed him. "One of which was to the police."

Riley's head dropped and he drew in a sharp breath.

" I have decided not to swear out a complaint against you. All that know you as an efficient and fair manager have praised you. I feel you have been punished enough. In return I expect you to tell the police everything you know."

"But my family." Riley began to protest. Bruce held up his hand.

"I expect you to give the police all the information you have. Contact details, names etc, etc. This being said, I am aware that the head of this Chinese operation is still on the loose. So I have urged Commissioner Gordon to look at putting you and your family into the witness protection program. I have no doubt that this is not going to be an easy option but preferable to what had been offered before."

"I don't know what to say." Riley looked confounded. "I didn't expect you to be so generous, I just thought I would be dismissed and have to suffer the consequences."

The phone rang, interrupting.

"Excuse me." Bruce apologised as he snatched up the receiver. He listened occasionally muttering "Yes, Yes. Ha-huh."

Thanking the caller he turned back to Riley Scott.

"The police are on their way to collect you, and take you into protective custody. Your wife and daughters are also being picked up as we speak. You will be given a short time to explain things to them before you are questioned. After that its up to you."

Riley sat absorbing what he had been told, numb with shock. This was not what he had dreamed would happen.

"Mr Wayne how can I thank you. I really never expected you to be so understanding." He managed to say.

"Mr Scott, understand this, I can not condone your actions, but neither can I stand by and see innocent people hurt. Also understand Kai Han has escaped and no doubt he will be seeking some revenge. You will only be as safe as the programme can make you. One slip and, well I don't think I need explain the consequences."

Riley nodded his head.

"Mr Scott whilst we wait for the police to arrive why don't you tell me some of the details, like how did you arrange for the tankers to be diverted, and who were the drivers."

"Mr Wayne, it was like this…"

Riley had just finished relating the details to Bruce when Margaret announced the arrival of the police officers.

Bruce rose to his feet and thrust his right hand towards Riley. Riley also rose and took the proffered handshake.

"Good luck Riley." Bruce said as Riley turned to be escorted out by the officers.

"You'll need it." He added under his breath.

PART NINE

The day had begun as most Saturdays did at Wayne Manor, sleeping late and a leisurely breakfast in bed. Well, as far as Bruce's Saturday was concerned this was so.

Alfred placed the breakfast-laden tray on the bed, and then handed Bruce the papers.

"Dick still asleep?" Bruce inquired. "He usually pokes his head in before now."

"No Sir he has been up ages. He took the dogs out for a walk." Alfred informed him.

"Oh! Ok." Bruce said sounding surprised.

"Sir, do you need me at all for anything this morning?" Alfred asked "Only Master Dick has asked if I could take him to the cemetery to visit his parents grave."

"I don't see that there's a problem with that, I could take him if it came to it." Bruce offered.

"I think the young man wants me to take him." Alfred replied.

"Oh, ok no problem. By the way have we someone to sit with him tonight?"

"Well Sir I thought just this once he could come along with us, then he and I could do something together till we have to pick you and Miss Weir up again. It would be company for me."

"Hum, alright, I suppose just this once. Bruce agreed "I had offered to take him with us tonight; he said he didn't think he could stand to watch." Bruce added.

"I don't think June likes Dick for some reason." He also added "I have a feeling this will be my last date with her though."

"I understand Sir." Alfred commiserated. "Is there anything else I can get you?" He asked as he made towards the door.

"Nothing thanks Alfred, I think I may get some more sleep actually."

"Very good Sir."

Dick was sat at the kitchen table when Alfred entered, a glass of milk in front of him. On the table was a bunch of wild flowers he had obviously collected whilst on his walk.

"Those are nice." Alfred commented. "Shall I put them in some water?"

"Yes please, I thought, well I thought I would take them to put them on the grave."

"That will be nice." Alfred said. "Just give me time to clear things away and we will get going."

"I'll give you a hand." Dick said eagerly jumping up.

"Young man there is no need." Alfred protested.

"But I don't mind, in fact I like helping, it takes my mind off things y'know."

Alfred smiled and consented to the assistance. What a contrast, Bruce would never even think about helping with such domestic chores.

Despite his youth Dick was quite tidy the majority of the time. Bruce left a trail of mess behind him. Alfred had commented about how tidy Dicks bedroom had been, even the bed had been straightened, Dick had looked at Alfred quizzically and shrugged.

"I always had to put things away after I had used them because there was never enough room to leave them laying about. I had chores to do before I was allowed to go play." He had explained.

With Dicks help it didn't take long to get the dishwasher loaded and things straightened away.

Alfred glanced at the clock.

"Come along then we had better get going, sooner we go sooner we get back and you will need to have a rest ready for tonight. It's going to be a long one I'm sure."

"Ok." Dick agreed as he took the flowers from the vase Alfred had placed them in.

"There's some old newspapers under there," Alfred indicated to a shelf. "Wrap them in a couple of sheets to stop them dripping all over."

The drive to the cemetery was for the most part silent. Dick was a little fidgety.

"You ready for tonight?" Alfred asked him. Dick just nodded. Alfred didn't press him further. The boy had a lot to think about.

Alfred drew the car up into the parking place nearest to the place where John and Mary Grayson were interred. Dick opened the door and alighted. He stood as if unsure as to what to do.

"I'll wait here for you?" Alfred suggested.

Dick nodded and grasping the flowers he walked slowly the short distance towards the grave. Alfred felt a sharp pang of sadness as he watched him walk away. Dick appeared to become so small and vulnerable.

Alfred watched as Dick knelt and began to tidy the grave, picking out the few weeds and debris that had blown there. Dick then placed the flowers in the stone vase at the base of the headstone.

Dick slid to one side so that he was sat on the grass beside the grave. Alfred could see his lips moving as he spoke, occasionally wiping his eyes and his nose with the back of his hand.

All Alfred's instincts were to go over and comfort the boy, give him a tissue, but he knew that this was an intensely private moment and he didn't want to intrude. Dick would let him know, he was sure, if he needed him

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Alfred slouched back in the seat and pulled the visor down obscuring his view, then changing his mind he fiddled with the radio, finding nothing he liked he slid a C.D. into the slot. Keeping the volume low he got comfortable once again. The soft opening first movement of Dvorak's New World Symphony (No 9 in E minor) filled the car, and then burst into a fortissimo of strings, with answering tympani. Alfred closed his eyes.

The flute had just 'introduced' the second 'subject', which bore a resemblance to the spiritual 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot', when Dick opened the passenger door and climbed back into the car.

Alfred opened one eye. Dick was putting on his seat belt.

Sitting forward Alfred made to turn off the C.D.

"No don't turn it off, it's nice." Dick protested.

"You sure?" Alfred asked in amazement.

"Yup." Dick returned, "It's the New World Symphony isn't it?"

Alfred looked at Dick with some incredulity.

"How did you know that?"

Dick tapped the side of his nose.

"You would be surprised. I like all sorts of music, not just the popular modern sort."

Alfred laughed

"Quite the 'clever Dick' aren't you?" he said gently.

"Ha ha very funny." Dick said with mock sarcasm, smiling back at Alfred.

"I take it everything was alright?" Alfred inquired as they wound their way out of the cemetery.

"Yes, sure. I just had to, well you know, have a 'talk' to them. It kinda helps get things in perspective."

"I think I understand young man. I think I understand."

Dick and Alfred continued the journey back to the Manor in silent appreciation of the music. The second movement swirling with clarinets, bassoons and brass. The melody being carried by the cor anglais over strings. The movement seemed to paint a picture of loneliness and nostalgia reflecting Dick's mood somewhat.

The car pulled up outside the manor. Dick hopped out.

"I'm gonna go see if Bruce is awake." He called to Alfred as he skipped inside the house.

"Ooops!" Alfred exclaimed to himself. "He will be now."

Bruce was in fact awake when Dick bounded into his bedroom.

"Morning." He said with a yawn.

"Morning, you call this morning?" Dick laughed plonking himself on the edge of the bed. Glancing over at the clock he conceded. "Well I guess it is still, just."

"What have you been up to?" Bruce asked him.

"Oh I took the dogs for a long walk first thing. Alfred and me have just got back from the cemetery. I wanted to visit. You don't mind do you?" Dick asked.

"Not at all why should I?" Bruce looked puzzled.

"Oh that's ok then." Dick waved his hand dismissively. "What's your plans for today then?"

"Ooooh I reckon I'm going to hang around in bed for a while longer whilst I have the chance. Then a late lunch before I start getting ready for tonight."

"Lazy bones." Dick taunted.

"I don't know where you get all your energy from." Bruce protested yawning again. "Go on shoo, let an old man have some peace." Bruce made as if to chase Dick out. Dick was at the door in a flash.

"Catch you later." He called as he disappeared from sight.

With a contented sigh Bruce settled back and closed his eyes.

PART TEN

The Rolls Royce pulled up along side the red carpet. Crowds lined both sides, held back by barriers. The scene resembled something like a premier or Oscar night. Spotlights swept the sky creating an aurora of shifting colours.

Alfred alighted from the Drivers side and strode around to the rear passenger door. Dutifully he opened it.

Dressed in a tuxedo, Bruce stepped out, nodding his thanks to Alfred. Instantly the flash bulbs exploded, creating an almost white out with their brilliance, and such a cacophony of noise it was almost deafening.

Bruce turned back to the car and extended his hand towards the still open door. A hand appeared and took his, followed by the rest of June Weir, elegantly exiting the car. She 'almost' wore a sheath of shimmering lavender, which clung perilously to her body. Bruce offered her his arm and she accepted as they began their walk towards the entrance of the arena. Shouts from the mass of journalists merged with those of people wanting autographs. Part way up the carpet they were accosted by Gotham's own Gossip columnist. Pausing to say a few words. They managed to make it to the doors.

"Don't you hate all this?" June asked pointedly through clenched teeth.

"To be honest yes, but it's what's expected." Bruce smiled back, as he waved to someone who thought they knew him.

After many handshakes and introductions to 'someone who is just dying to meet you'. Then the greetings of old acquaintances, along with the obligatory Champagne, they finally made it to the auditorium and their seats.

"Phew I'm ready to sit down." June sighed, "These shoes are killing me."

"Didn't you have some more comfortable ones?" Bruce enquired innocently.

"Not that go with this outfit I haven't!" June exclaimed, affronted, turning her attention to the arena and the who's who of Gotham's rich, influential, famous and infamous who were taking their seats also.

The place was alive with sound and light. Stilt walkers mingled with the crowd, handing out programmes. Clowns in brilliantly coloured costume flitted in and out, throwing confetti here and there and comically interacting with each other. Other characters in strange unidentifiable costumes also scampered about tossing small tokens, such as key rings, whistles and light sticks to everyone. In front a huge flounced curtain obscured the almost circular stage area.

Bruce shyly waved to the people who waved at him, wishing that the show would start. He was just not comfortable with this side of being who he was.

June kept on nudging him saying.

"Look there's so and so, and over there isn't that?"

After what seemed like forever the house lights dimmed and the audience fell silent. The curtain obscuring the stage fell with a hiss. A single spotlight illuminated the rear of the stage. A lone figure ventured out, peering into the gloom. Treading carefully forward and glancing back now and then. Approaching the front of the stage the figure raised its hand to its brow and looked out over the audience, then turned and beckoned in the direction it had just come from. Two other figures emerged with the same caution, the first figure retreating back to centre stage to meet them. The three seemed to be holding a conversation between themselves seemingly oblivious to any audience.

"I'm telling you no ones there." One voice became clear.

"You sure? I reckon they are." Came another voice.

The third figure ran towards the front and held its hand to its ear. Then it beckoned towards the roof.

"Hey Mr lighting man, put the lights on a minute will you." Nothing happened. "Hey you up there put the lights on."

The auditorium lights came on suddenly, the audience laughed as the three figures jumped as if scared and ran from the stage shouting at each other.

"I told you they were there, I told you."

A man rose from the centre of the stage. It was the Master of Ceremonies. Clad in a bright yellow suit with a crimson long flowing coat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, everyone, WELCOME." He held out his arms and swept them to and fro.

"We hope you will enjoy the entertainment we will put before you this evening, and that you will show your appreciation by digging deep into your wallets to help raise even more money for the worthy charities benefiting from your generosity tonight.

We have combed the globe to bring you only the finest acts, so with out any further ado lets get on with the show!"

A flash of pyrotechnics masked his exit through the trapdoor.

The show got underway, dancers and jugglers, contortionists and clowns, a myriad of colours. Two singers, accompanying the various acts, stood in suspended globes above the stage.

The audience oo'd and ah'd and applauded. Laughed raucously at the clown's antics and sat enthralled by the beauty of the dance.

The interval was announced. Bruce decided to stay in his seat.

"I don't relish fighting to get a drink." He informed June.

"I have to agree." She said thankfully, her feet still hurt.

One or two people came over and greeted Bruce exchanging the odd word about how good the show had been so far. Bruce and June nodding in agreement. Thankfully the interval was brief and it wasn't long before the show resumed.

The curtain dropped and once more the dancers took to the stage with a wonderful, amazing combination of dance and gymnastics, the singer's voices rising and falling with the movements of the dancers.

A juggler performed fantastic feats with a Diablo, playfully interrupted by the clowns, who carried on their antics once he left the stage.

Next a troupe performed feats of balancing with an oriental theme. Reaching dizzying heights they climbed jumped and vaulted.

Two muscular scantily clad men gave a demonstration of strength and balance. Contorting and twisting, alternately supporting, first one, then the other. One lay back on a support and spun the other with his feet.

A fire eating display, accompanied by colourful pyrotechnics, threatened to set fire to the stage. The performers dressed in fiery red, again danced and cavorted across the stage, the music wild.

The clowns again took to the stage, whilst behind them the scenery for the next act was being positioned on stage. A mock argument broke out and they descended into the audience, chasing one diminutive clown. He crawled along the row of seats where Bruce and June were sitting. Reaching Bruce he stopped and raised his finger to his lips, in silent pleading that his hiding place not be revealed.

The other clowns began searching, turning audience members out of their seats, occasionally shouting out

"Bepé! Where are you? Bepé!"

The small clown began to crawl to the other end of the row, where he popped up and ran back to the stage to the stage, keeping low.

The other clowns where asking if the audience had seen him, and the pantomime of pointing and cries of

"He's behind you!" went on for a little while. Then the clowns 'noticed' Bepé and another chase around the stage ensued. They were just about to grab the little clown when the Master of Ceremonies rose from the trapdoor in the midst of them. He gave them a telling off for bullying Bepé, who was jumping up and down making boxing gestures towards the others behind the Master of Ceremonies back.

"Go on get off stage!" The M.C. ordered pointing. The clowns turned with their heads down, and then spun back trying to catch him out.

"Go!" He ordered again. Heads bowed they shuffled off. The audience laughed.

"Aww!" they sympathised. The M.C. turned and caught Bepé's gesturing.

"Oi! You are as bad." He admonished. "Come on lets have you off too."

Bepé walked towards the rear of the stage, and then scurried back to aim a kick at the M.C. who turned in time to catch him. Shaking his fist he chased Bepé from the stage.

Returning to centre stage he paused dramatically before drawing in his breath to announce.

"Ladies and Gentleman we hope you have enjoyed the show, but its not quite over yet! May I draw your attention to the programme?"

He paused again, briefly, to allow the audience to look.

"As you will see the last act is listed as T.B.A. Well we have moved heaven and earth to bring you this next performance. We were unable to list it because we were not sure whether we could bring it to you. It is something so special you are privileged to witness this once in a lifetime event.

Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you our FINALÉ!"

He swept his arms wide and dropped from view.

"He didn't say what it was." June whispered to Bruce as the lights went out. Dark figures moved on the stage manoeuvring props.

"Hmm, no he didn't." Bruce agreed, as a single spotlight hit the stage. Just off centre to the front of the stage a column of white silky fabric hung down.

As the music began, with the first line of the song,

'A hand above the water', A hand appeared from inside the column and grasped the fabric. With the second line,

'An angel reaching for the sky,' another snaked out and grasped the other side. The song continued

'Is it raining in heaven, do you want us to cry.' A figure of a young man appeared clad in a cat suit that ran from dark green at the ankles up through yellow then orange and red at the throat .It sparkled with reflected light. His black hair was picked out in spikes of silver that also twinkled in the spotlight.

He executed a slow controlled rise into a handstand, supported by the fabric. Then with twists and turns he went through a series of moves that wrapped the fabric around him.

As the chorus of the song came up he dropped to the floor, spinning, touching down with his right foot gently. Then as the chorus continued he pushed off and with the fabric lifted by unseen stagehands, flew in an upward spiral, the fabric flowing out like wings behind him.

'One by one, only the good die young. They're only flying too close to the sun, and life goes on without you.'

As the song continued he performed a graceful aerial ballet supported by the billowing fabric, rising higher with each chorus. The audience were mesmerised.

Then as the final chorus came to an end.

'They're only flying to close to the sun. Cryin' for nothing. Cryin' for no one. No one but you.'

He reached the top of his flight and the light was extinguished with a flash of sparks. When the spotlight came back on the boy had disappeared.

"Wow!" June exclaimed, "That was truly amazing."

"Wasn't it just." Bruce replied.

"Who was he?" she asked breathlessly.

Bruce's response was cut off as the spotlight again cut the dark, illuminating a trapeze bar.

Another song began to play as the boy appeared again, grasping the trapeze and beginning to swing to and fro, building up momentum.

'Empty spaces – what are we living for. Abandoned places - -I guess we know the score. On and on does anybody know what we are looking for.'

The audience were entranced, as the boy spun and turned around the bar, his rhythm in time to the music.

As the chorus swelled Bruce felt a lump rise in his throat.

'The show must go on. The show must go on. Inside my heart is breaking. My make – up may be flaking but my smile still stays on.'

Bruce wiped his eyes. The boy continued to spin and swing above the audience, who drew in a collective breath and held it as he pulled off a tricky stunt, letting it out with a sigh as he completed it.

The song reached its climax.

'My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies. Fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die.'

The boy let go of the bar as it reached the top of a swing and dived backwards towards the floor. The audience again audibly sucked in their breath. As the next line of the song proclaimed,

'I can fly- my friends.'

Slender wires that were attached to the boy's ankles stopped his downward fall, and he flew in a wide arc across the stage. As the final chorus played out he continued to swing and turn in another balletic display. Swapping the loops around his ankles to his hands he began to spin faster and faster, slowly getting nearer the ground. As the song faded away,

'The show must go on, go on, go on, go on………………………'

He sank down to the floor in the splits grasping his leading ankle with his hands as his head dropped to his knee. The spotlight illuminated him in a halo of light.

The audience were silent you could have heard a pin drop. The M.C. emerged through the hidden trap door at the side of the prone boy and bending took one of his hands, assisting him to his feet, although it was more a gesture than assistance as the boy rose gracefully to his feet.

"Ladies and Gentlemen please show your appreciation for a truly remarkable young man, the last surviving member of the legendary Flying Grayson's', Richard Grayson!"

The audience at last animated rose, as one to their feet and the applause was tumultuous. Whistling and shouting for an encore.

"My goodness what an amazing performance." June managed to say to Bruce who was applauding harder than anyone. "Is that your Dick Grayson?" She asked.

"You bet it is," Bruce affirmed "Just wait till I get my hands on him and Alfred." He grinned.

On the stage Dick was taking his applause bowing and waving to the crowd. He looked over in the direction that he knew Bruce would be sitting and grinning, winked and waved a little faster.

He then did a series of back flips towards the exit of the stage, paused and waved again before disappearing through the gap in the backdrop curtain. The M.C. turned and watched him leave, before turning back to the audience to give his thanks for their appreciation and generosity.

The curtains rose again marking the end of the show. People began to collect their things together preparing to leave. There was an after show party to attend, and they were in a hurry to get there.

Bruce remained seated.

"Are you coming?" June urged.

"You go on ahead, I'll be there in a moment."

"Oh for goodness sake!" she exclaimed with exasperation getting up and hobbling towards the exit.

Bruce got up and made his way towards the stage, at one side there was a gap in the curtain. Climbing the stairs there, he pushed through and onto the stage. It was full of people rushing around dismantling scenery and lighting rigs. Walking to the back stage opening he entered another world. It was a mass of people all trying to pack up equipment, dancers wearing very little busied about chatting. Bruce became aware that someone was tugging at his trouser leg. It was the clown Bepé. He tugged again this time indicating that Bruce should follow. Bruce realised that the man was mute. He tapped Bepé on the shoulder and signed,

"Are you deaf too?" Bepé beamed at him and signed back that he was, but to follow him.

Bruce followed him down a corridor the entrance to which proclaimed 'Dressing Rooms'. Stopping at a door mid way down Bepé knocked and opened the door; standing aside he indicated that Bruce should enter.

Sat at a dressing table Dick, still in costume, was removing his make up. Alfred was busy sorting out clothes. He turned to face Bruce, his expression one of nervous anticipation. For what seemed like an age the two just looked at each other. Then Bruce stepped forward.

"How on earth did you manage to keep this from me?" He asked

"Master Bruce you have been somewhat preoccupied of late, it wasn't that difficult." Alfred interjected.

"I'm sorry Bruce, I," Dick began

"Sorry, why?" Bruce interrupted somewhat amazed. "Dick I've seen you on the apparatus in the gym, so I know how good you are, but to have had this opportunity to see you perform, its been a rare privilege.

You held that audience spellbound including me."

"Me too." Alfred added. "Even watching the rehearsals didn't prepare me for just how magical it was going to be. By the way Sir where's Miss Weir?"

"She went on ahead to the party. I suppose I had better call her." Bruce fished his mobile from his pocket and switched it on. There was a message waiting.

'GOT A CAB &

HAVE GONE HOME.

DON'T BOTHER CALLING ME.

GOODBYE. JUNE.'

"Oh well, it was going nowhere anyway." Bruce said dismissively. "There are far more important things to think about right now. Hey Alfred?

"I should say so Sir." Alfred agreed.

Bruce moved to Dick's side and put his arm around his shoulder as if to stress the point he had just made.

"You'll get greasepaint all over your tux." He protested.

"Oh never mind that." Bruce dismissed, and hugged him.

"Let me get outa this stuff first." Dick again protested.

"Ok, ok," Bruce conceded, letting him go. Sitting down on a chair across the room he surveyed the room. There were a couple of bouquets and a few teddy bears on the dressing table, along side good luck cards.

"Where did these come from?" Bruce asked, indicating.

"Oh the other artistes, when they heard I was going to be here they were so pleased. It was nice of them wasn't it?" Dick explained.

"Come on young man," Alfred urged, "get that make up off and get changed."

Removing the majority of the make up Dick went over to the shower cubicle in the corner of the room. Once behind the screen he removed the costume and tossed it over to where Alfred was waiting to pack it away. Showering quickly he called to Alfred to pass him the towel. He then swapped the towel for the clothes Alfred had ready for him.

Dick stepped out of the cubicle and sat back at the dressing table to comb his damp hair.

He then put on his socks and shoes.

"Ok, ready." He announced. "Bruce I have to go say goodbye to everyone before we leave. You don't mind do you? I think there is a bit of a wrap party."

"Not at all, its your night." Bruce smiled.

"I wont stay long, I promise."

"I will go and put this stuff in the car. Then I'll wait for you. The car is parked near the stage door." Alfred informed them.

"I'll come and wait with you." Bruce suggested.

"Won't you come with me?" Dick asked looking a little disappointed at Bruce's suggestion.

"You want me to?" Bruce sounded surprised.

"Why not, I'd like everyone to meet you. They have been asking about what you are like and how you are treating me and all that stuff."

Bruce followed Dick out of the dressing room and along the corridor back towards the stage.

The stage had been cleared and scenery replaced by trestle tables groaning under the weight of food and drink.

The troupe was awaiting Dick as he stepped on to the stage, greeting him with loud applause.

Dick flushed a deep crimson and stopped in his tracks.

Bruce put his hand on Dicks back and propelled him forward. Immediately a sea of people, all of whom wanted to hug and kiss him at once, engulfed Dick.

Bruce stood back not wanting to intrude upon this moment. He felt a tug on his trouser leg again. Bepé signed to him, inviting him to join him at the refreshment table for a drink. Bruce acquiesced.

As they moved away the band struck up a lively tune.

Bepé, signing, told Bruce of his affection for Dick, having known him from birth. He said how he was glad Dick had appeared to cope with the death of his parents.

"They were wonderful folk." He told Bruce. "They are sorely missed."

Dick appeared having extricated himself from the throng.

"Phew!" he whistled, "I'm ready for a drink after that."

Bruce handed him a can of soda from the table.

"Thanks," he said appreciatively as he popped the ring and drank deeply.

Putting the can back on the table he turned to Bepé and signed an inquiry of his opinion of the show overall.

Bruce was impressed. Was there no end to this boy's talent?

As people visited the table for refreshments they paused and exchange greetings with Bruce, Dick introducing them to him.

Bruce was overwhelmed by the affection expressed by each and every one of them for Dick, and in turn their flowing praise for his 'taking care' of Dick so well.

Bruce nodded and made the appropriate 'noises'.

Dick sensing Bruce's growing embarrassment, took his arm and stretching up, whispered,

"I think we should go now. I'll just say goodbye to everyone, OK?"

Bruce nodded and Dick followed by Bepé disappeared into the crowd. He was hugged and kissed by everyone again; some had tears in their eyes.

Returning at last to Bruce they made their way from the stage. Dick paused and looked back briefly with some sadness. Then turned again to continue on towards the stage door exit.

Alfred was waiting nearby as promised and he started up the car as Bruce and Dick climbed on board.

Once they were under way Dick turned to Bruce.

"Bruce I had to do that, for me. You know?" Dick began, "It was for Mom and Dad too." His voiced cracked with emotion.

"I understand." Bruce assured him gently. Although it was dark in the car, the streetlamps flashing by gave enough illumination to allow Bruce to see Dicks face in their orange glow. A tear glistened on his cheek.

"I will be glad to get home though. I'm totally exhausted." Dick said wearily.

A lump rose in Bruce's throat again.

"Home, he had said. Home!" He thought.

Bruce felt Dick's head drop against his shoulder and he shifted slightly to offer him a more comfortable support against his chest, putting his arm around Dicks shoulder.

"You know young man I don't believe I could be prouder of you tonight than I am if you were my own natural son." He said with genuine warmth and affection in his voice.

Dick snored gently.