Warning: Some Language . . .

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Dick tossed a plum at Tim as he came through the door into the kitchen. He grabbed his own fruit and closed the refrigerator door.

"My last class ended at two," Tim told him as he bit into the fruit. Juice ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. "Oh, crap! I like this shirt," he muttered with a full mouth.

Dick tossed him a kitchen towel. "No biggie. Toss it in the hamper. You still have clothes here, you know."

"Is Elle and Jason not back yet?" Tim asked this as he wiped his shirt down.

"Jason just called," Dick informed him. "The meeting just let out and he's already alerted the pilots. We'll need to leave to go pick them up at the airport in another hour and a half."

"Where's Bruce? Did he go into the office after your meeting with Elle's lawyers?" Tim tossed the towel on the counter and sat across from Dick at the table.

"He's down in the cave. He took the day off for this." Dick shook his head. He hated that the family was getting so caught up in his and Elle's problems. He appreciated that they were going out of their way for them, but it made him feel guilty, too.

Tim stared at him from across the table. It was like the teenager could read him like a book. Who knows, Dick thought to himself, maybe he could.

"We're doing it because we want to, Dick," Tim said; successfully creeping Dick out. "We like her, too, and she makes you happy. We like seeing you happy."

"How do you do that?"

Tim grinned; not even pretending he didn't know what Dick was talking about. "I've always been good at reading people, but you're easier than most."

Dick made a face. "Great," he said dryly.

"I like not having to guess what you're thinking or feeling. Makes you more comfortable being around." Tim finished his plum and tossed the seed into the trash bin. "Two points!"

"Pennyworth doesn't like it when you do that, Drake," Damian announced as he entered the kitchen next.

"What Alfred doesn't know . . ." Tim shrugged. Damian would probably tell on him anyway.

Dick finished his plum and tossed its seed in after Tim's and also scored. He threw his hands in the air and made the background crowd noise. "Ah, and the crowd goes wild!"

Damian rolled his eyes and turned his head toward the refrigerator. Dick shot Tim a grin. He knew Damian was struggling not to smile. The kid had been loosening up so much more since Dick and Elle had moved into the manor . . . Okay, more like when Elle moved in. The kid was completely taken with her, although he tried to hide it, but it was just too obvious. He made a point over the weekend to visit a couple of times a day their wing. Dick didn't mind, though, and Elle seemed to adore him much to Tim's bafflement. The two had formed a strange bond, however.

Damian closed the refrigerator door with his own plum. Tim opened his mouth, only to make an odd choking sound when Dick kicked him in the ankle. Damian was trying. For the first time since he arrived here a year ago, the boy was trying to fit in . . . just a bit, and Dick didn't want anything to disrupt his progression.

"Come on," he told the boys. "Let's head down to the cave and see what Bruce is up to. Maybe get a little sparring in before it's time to pick Elle up at the airport."

"What about Todd?" Damian asked. "Is he coming back here, too?"

Dick shrugged. "Jason can find his own way back."

Tim snorted. "Are you jealous?"

Dick gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

His little brother met his gaze calmly.

"What's there to be jealous of Todd?" Damian snarked.

"No, I'm not jealous," Dick laughed uncomfortably. "Not really, anyway," he muttered reluctantly a few seconds later.

Tim stared, obviously not expecting Dick to actually admit to it. He thought that maybe the boy was just trying to get him on the defensive as a joke. But as Dick rolled the idea over in his mind, he found the tiniest bit of justification to the accusation.

"Not the way you're thinking, at least," he was quick to admit. "It's just that I wanted to go with her. The last time I left her, she nearly died. I don't think I've gotten over that just yet."

It was only a couple of weeks ago, after all. Dick figured he'd be feeling this way for a while longer.

"Last time, she was alone," Tim pointed out reasonably. "Don't you trust Jason? You were the one that manipulated him into accepting the duty."

They paused at the clock. Dick opened the glass cover and moved the hands until they read 10:47. There was the slightest click, and then the grandfather clock swung away soundlessly to reveal the secondary heavy metal door that was the entrance to the Batcave. The eye scan was a new feature to the security protocol. It changed every six months or so; more often if there was a breach.

That happened on occasion, although the last time had been due to Talia al Ghul's unwelcomed visitation to check on her son. Dick doubted there was much they could do if the daughter of the demon really put her mind to seeing Damian. Dick suddenly imagined her showing up during one of Damian's visits with Elle. A shudder passed through him, and he made a note to go over Bruce's plans to increase security throughout the manor.

If Elle leapt onto anyone she deemed a threat to him, he didn't doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to do the same for Damian; even if that threat was his own mother. And there was no way that would end well . . .

The three of them started down the steps into the cave. The light from the work station was on at the Batcomputer. Dick could see Bruce concentrating on whatever was on the screen. Bruce had heard them, but hadn't bothered acknowledging his company yet, so he wasn't looking when it happened.

They were nearly to the bottom when he felt it.

Fear . . . No! Terror struck Dick hard in the chest; almost like a physical blow. He gasped, and staggered; his normal grace gone as his legs collapsed beneath him.

"Dick!" Tim yelled.

He thought that the boys lunged for him, but suddenly a wave of vertigo crashed over him and he was falling . . . Elle was falling! He had a vision of . . . of . . . Roy? No, not Roy, but Red Arrow looking down at him with a hand outstretched as he fell away from him. The vision was gone in the next second; replaced by limestone walls and a flash of the startled expressions of Tim and Damian before he slammed into the stone steps and darkness overtook him.

Bruce was going back over the video that Dick had supplied them of Elle's attack. Nameless' face had undergone a bit of transformation over the course of the night, and he had wanted to run a facial recognition program on the man before the damage acquired had occurred.

He began shutting the images down as he heard the boys enter the cave. There was no reason Dick had to see the video again, nor did Bruce want Damian to see the attack. Not that the boy hadn't seen things just as brutal before, but he had noted the closeness developing between his youngest son and Dick's fiancée over the past couple of months.

The last thing they needed right now was for Damian to revert back to his previous training and go out hunting this guy with an eye for revenge. It had been hard enough just seeing the end result without witnessing the actual attack itself.

Tim certainly hadn't enjoyed it, but he was good at distancing himself, and looking at the footage with a clinical eye rather than an emotional one. Although Bruce hated to ask the boy's help with it, he didn't feel the compunction to hide the video from him as he did with the other two. Right now, Tim's observation skills took precedence over his discomfort, however. But in the meantime, Bruce would watch for signs of distress in the eighteen year old all the same.

He could do this alone, if necessary.

Checking the chronometer, Bruce wondered if it were time to go pick up Elle. He easily lost track of time when he was researching something. This time was no different; but he was a bit more motivated to achieve results than per usual. His son deserved happiness after all he had been through in his life. All of his children did, but this was Dick's turn, and Bruce would do everything in his power to smooth the way for the young couple. He was pretty sure that's what parents did for their kids, after all.

Although Elle's presence had made an impact on the number of arguments and fights he had been forced to referee in the last few months, it still wasn't unusual to hear raised voices at any given time. Even the young woman's ability to bring peace to those around her couldn't completely stop the disagreements between two opposing personalities that his two youngest sons possessed.

They grated upon one another more often than not, but no longer was it an ongoing thing in which he or Alfred felt the constant need to provide a buffer. They could leave Tim and Damian alone in a room now without the worry of blood stains on the carpeting. Elle had told him, interestingly, her theory of how the two would grind each other's rough patches down until those places were smooth eventually. She predicted they would one day be the closest of friends.

He hadn't the heart to tell her that he had initially thought her naïve prediction was bullshit. But then, she had told him this at the beginning of December, and in the intervening weeks Bruce had to admit there had been moments when the two had seemed to rub along quite well. It was still too early to tell whether or not her prediction had merit, and Bruce preferred to prepare for the worst rather than expect the best.

So, when Tim had yelled, it hadn't been unexpected. But what he hadn't been prepared for was the name he had yelled out or the concern in the older boy's voice. This wasn't anger, but surprise and a little fear? And it wasn't the name of his younger brother, but his eldest . . . It had taken a precious second for Bruce's head to whip around; just in time to see Dick's head come into contact with the limestone steps. Tim had grabbed Dick's arm while Damian had somehow managed to get in front of him to stop his forward momentum down the rest of the steps.

Bruce jumped up and was running. "What happened?"

"We don't know," Damian told him, wide-eyed. "He just collapsed!"

"He did gasp, and he reached for the wall; like he was dizzy or something," Tim added as Bruce moved in to scoop up his eldest son.

"Damian, locate Alfred," Bruce ordered as he made his way down the rest of the steps with his burden. "Tim, I need you to get on the computer and bring up Chicago news stations. Monitor Chicago police frequencies for any incidents located in the vicinity of Hamilton Industries corporate headquarters. And contact Jason!"

Tim followed Bruce down the stairs as Damian darted back to the manor. His step hitched in surprise.

"What are you talking about? What does that have to do with Dick collapsing?"

"Just do it," Bruce barked over his shoulder.

He shouldn't have agreed to keep the bond a secret from the rest of the family. He understood Elle's hesitancy as well as Dick's need to honor her requests, but this was something they needed to know. He should have insisted upon them coming clean with the details before the couple split up to attend their different meetings two locations. Despite his assurance that the others would do everything in their power to keep the couple safe, understanding that the loss of one would mean the loss of both lives would increase the sense of urgency and perhaps make each of them more efficient when looking out for Dick and Elle individually.

He suspected there was more to this bond and to Elle's abilities than what had even been shared with him.

As Bruce laid Dick down on the gurney in the medical bay, his son nearly rolled off of the table as he regained consciousness abruptly. Bruce grabbed his shoulders as Dick jerked upright. He was panting as if he had run a four-minute mile.

"Elle," he yelled. He clutched at Bruce's arms. "She fell, Bruce! She fell!"

"Fell? Fell from what?" Bruce snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"I-I . . ." Dick's gaze darted around the room; searching, but for what Bruce doubted he knew. "I saw Roy! He had her, and then let her go!"

"You saw Roy? You mean Jason," Bruce told him. "Jason accompanied Elle!"

"I don't know! But I saw him . . . I saw Roy!" Dick insisted.

"Get a hold yourself. You hit your head on the step coming down to the cave," Bruce informed him calmly. "Perhaps you dreamed this."

"No . . . No, it was no dream," Dick said as he pressed one hand to his head. He looked at his palm. No blood; good. "Something happened in Chicago. I felt it. Roy was there."

Once assured that Dick wouldn't tumble off of the table, Bruce let him go and stepped back. "Since when do you have visions with this bond? I thought you could only feel her emotions when she was in danger."

"I don't know. Cedric said nothing about seeing images when he talked about the bond," Dick admitted. "It was just a flash, though. A glimpse; nothing more."

"But you're sure it came from Elle?" Bruce asked for clarification. They continued to learn more about the bond as time went on, but without Cedric or Arthur or another Siren to ask, all they could do was fumble their way through this. "Whatever you saw . . ."

"I saw Roy."

"Fine . . . You believe that you saw Roy through Elle's eyes?"

"Gah!" Dick dropped his head into his hands. "When you say it like that, it sounds crazy! I don't know if I was seeing what Elle was seeing. I just was body slammed with a burst of absolute terror out of the blue, and then I saw this flash of Roy's face above me as I fell. But it wasn't me falling . . . It was Elle who fell."

Bruce pulled Dick's hands from his face, and spread his hair to see the area that had struck the stone step. "I have some news for you, chum. You fell, too. You're lucky Tim and Damian were right there with you, or you would have fallen down at least twenty steps. You could have broken your neck."

Bruce could feel a bump, but it didn't appear serious. Unfortunately, one could never tell how serious head injuries were right away. "This bond . . . It appears to have more negatives associated with it than positives."

Dick frowned at him, but didn't comment.

"Ah, very good, sir," Alfred's voice cut in as he and Damian entered the med bay. "You're awake. He was unconscious for how long a period, would you say, Master Bruce?"

Dick swung his legs off of the gurney. "Doesn't matter," he grumbled as he fished out his cell phone. "I'm fine. I need to contact Elle."

"I disagree, Master Dick," Alfred moved over to examine the injury where Bruce was pointing it out. "Any loss of consciousness could indicate severe repercussions. We must be vigilant. You know this."

"It was ninety seconds to two minutes. No more than that," Bruce answered.

Dick raised stricken eyes. "It rolled to voicemail." He hit another number and held the phone up to his ear impatiently.

"She was in a meeting, Dick," Bruce murmured soothingly. He hated to see him so upset.

"Jason had called to say the meeting had broken up, and they were leaving Hamilton Industries for the airport. Damn it! He's not picking up either. Voicemail again." Dick started to throw his phone, and then seemed to think better of it.

"Master Dick, you need to sit still for me," Alfred complained.

"It's entirely likely she forgot to turn it back on once it was over," Bruce countered logically. He spotted Tim as he came around the corner. "What have you got?"

Tim was frowning; looking confused. "I couldn't get through to Jason, but there are reports of sniper fire; a helicopter in trouble; and of a woman falling out."

"Shit!" Dick leapt off of the table; startling Alfred. "Sorry, Alf," he apologized. Bruce grabbed his arm in case he fainted from a sudden drop in blood pressure, but the younger man was shaking him off.

"Wait!" Bruce raised his voice. "Stop a minute and think! If she were dead, don't you think you'd be having a greater reaction than a mild panic attack?"

Dick paused; glancing back at his father uncertainly. It was clear that if what he had felt and Tim had confirmed had been true, it was likely the woman was already dead. Dick had a stronger reaction to her being sedated while at the hospital.

"Are you capable of reaching out to her? Can you feel her presence in any way?"

They ignored the curious glances between Tim and Damian. Bruce watched Dick's gaze lose focus as he sought out his bondmate through their little-understood, psychic link. He frowned, but despite the negative expression, Dick seemed to gain strength from whatever he found.

"I'm not sure I understand. She is . . . alive. She's . . . I can't tell. She's too far away. I just know that she's alive, and I don't think she's in danger anymore."

Alfred nodded sagely. "Then you won't mind sitting back down on the gurney while I finish what I was doing," he muttered; taking their strange talk all in stride. Alfred knew about the bond, but not the ramifications of it.

"Reports are saying a flying woman caught the falling woman in midair and flew her away," Tim told them; finishing up his report. "Do you want to explain what that was right there?"

Bruce looked at Dick, who had returned to his previous perch. Dick winced as Alfred poked a particularly sensitive area.

"No," was all he said.

"I think someone needs to start talking," Damian finally inserted bluntly. He looked at Bruce. "Father, you seem to know what's going on."

"Ask your brother," Bruce told him, and moved out of the room to check the information Tim gleaned for himself.

Damian followed him out. "My brother isn't being forthcoming."

"Then perhaps you might consider it isn't any of your business," Bruce pointed out, unhelpfully.

"If it requires that we catch him before he falls down a flight of stairs, then maybe it is our business," Tim said as he joined Damian.

Bruce rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. Terrific, he thought. They're ganging up on me.

"And I thought I told you to ask Dick," he attempted to pawn them off.

"We're asking you," Damian said. He crossed his arms.

Tim sidled up on Bruce's opposite side. "How did Dick know about the woman falling? That was Elle, wasn't it?" Tim pointed out the time of the incident on the first report to come in. "He knew about it as it was happening, Bruce!"

Someone had caught the helicopter in question on video. Bruce clicked the link. Hopefully this would either confirm or deny Dick's claims. The video was poor quality; taken with a camera phone from someone on the sidewalk below. The crazy person was more interested in being the first to post the video online than to run for safety.

The helicopter listed alarmingly to its side; muffled pops could barely be heard over the sound of traffic, but Bruce recognized them to be gunshots from a high-powered rifle.

"Did you hear that? Gunshots! Someone's shooting at the helicopter," Damian exclaimed. Even the boy knew what was happening.

The action was over so quickly that it was difficult to understand what had happened on first sight. Bruce played it again.

"I tried Roy's cell, but he's not picking up either," Dick announced as he stumbled out from the med bay, and leaned against Bruce's chair. "My God! Is that them?"

Bruce looked over his shoulder. "Are you going to live?"

"I'm fine," Dick murmured absentmindedly; his attention riveted more on the action on the screen than reassuring his father.

"Good heavens," Alfred gasped as he, too, joined them.

Bruce hit the controls and the image enlarged. He tried to clear the picture up, but the video was too poor to give them a slightly less blurry image. Maybe Tim could work his magic.

"Can you do any better?" Bruce asked Tim without looking away from the screen. He replayed the video yet again.

The eighteen year old leaned over him as he typed several more commands. The image of the helicopter grew in size and the grainy video cleared a bit more. "I'd need more time. I can record this and work on it later as well. Maybe someone will post another video from a better angle."

"How did that thing not fall out of the sky?" Dick exclaimed; gripping the back of the chair with white-knuckles.

"I don't know," Bruce murmured. And he didn't! By all accounts, the helicopter should have plummeted to the sidewalk below, but it swayed up and then back over again as whoever was piloting was struggling for control.

This time through it became obvious when the door suddenly flew open and a woman plainly fell out of the chopper. She dangled precariously a dozen stories in the air by what looked like a death grip on the door handle. She shifted slightly, and then was suddenly freefalling. They couldn't tell what had happened as they stared in helpless horror. Screams could be heard through the camera phone's microphone.

A blur flew into the picture; snatching the woman in mid-air before zooming out of the frame. The person filming tried to follow, but the victim and rescuer were already out of sight. The picture panned around, but the helicopter pilot had recovered control and disappeared over the rooftops of the surrounding buildings.

"Who was that who caught her?" Damian asked. "Did anyone recognize who it was?"

"I'm not sure," Dick whispered, but he had a sense of foreboding.

Tim had his own questions he wanted answered.. "Was that her?" He asked. Tim stared over Bruce's head at where Dick still stood. "Was that Jason and Elle?"

Dick was breathing hard, but was silent. With his son behind him, Bruce couldn't tell if Dick was being stubbornly silent or just in shock.

Instead of answering outright, Dick turned around and started back toward the steps. "That happened several minutes ago. We should head to the airport now."

"Wait up! We're coming with you," Damian shouted as he ran after him.

Bruce shoved out of the chair. "Are you coming?"

He glanced at Tim as he fiddled with the frozen frame of the woman hanging from the helicopter's door. The computer enlarged the image even more and the pixels moved and shifted as the program Bruce had installed last year made the necessary corrections. Even so, without her face, they could only guess at the woman's identity.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Tim nodded and stepped back. "I wouldn't miss it."

Bruce took one last look at the screen. Whoever the woman was, he noted, she was wearing the same outfit that Elle had worn that morning when boarding her company jet.

REACTIONS?

You know someone would have had their cellphone out and filming this . . .