Warning: Language . . .

"Hold all my calls. I'm out for the rest of the day," Aiden told his secretary as he entered his office.

"You're leaving?" Nora asked as she followed her boss to the door. "Is there anything you need before you go?"

Aiden paused as he thought about it, then shook his head. "No, I'm good. Everything else can wait. You can go home as well. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right," Nora nodded. She turned to get shut down her computer and gather up her things.

Aiden opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out several burner cell phones. He was calling people who regularly ran afoul of the law; people who had certain knowledge that others might want and not care how they went about getting it.

It was possible that Bella set this whole thing up so that he would become a person of interest to the both the law and the wrong set of people but Aiden wanted his inheritance. It was all he had left of his father. He had worked for years to make the man proud of him and the company successful. That Cedric Hamilton had no faith in him, his own son, that he would snatch everything Aiden had worked for away and give it to that ungrateful bitch . . . He wondered if that sharp pain of betrayal would ever leave him.

He had been thinking it over for the last day or so. He knew that he had underestimated Bella several times over. Yes, she was young and inexperienced compared to him, but she was personable; her voice made people like and trust her without reason. And apparently, she was smarter than he had given her credit for. He knew she hadn't been doing nothing since he had presented her with the paper work for the competency hearing.

According to his sources, Bella had an army of psychiatrists from around the country ready to testify that she was perfectly sane and fit run the company. He also heard that she had stepped down from acting CEO and had promoted Michael Grassi to take her place just yesterday. Although Bella still retained the power to make certain important decisions, she had handed over the reins to a man that knew the company inside and out; one that Aiden himself respected. By taking herself out of the day to day running of the company and thus, the equation, Bella had just effectively cut him off at the knees.

The board, he knew, supported her decision in light of the hearing. She was married to the son of a well-respected businessman and billionaire; a family whom the court would also respect. Even if Bella was declared incompetent, the chances were very good that Wayne would convince the judge, in light of Cedric's will, to name either his son or Wayne himself as her guardian. All it would take was a private interview with Bella and Wayne to convince the judge that she was 'normal'. . . This might have worked had Bella been on her own but with one of the most powerful men in the country, arguably the world, Aiden could see that Bella had managed to effortlessly sidestep his plans for her. Continuing the lawsuit at this point would only serve to place him in a bad light, if not make him look like a greedy bastard.

Now, with this new development Bella had presented him, Aiden had hope that he might regain a portion of his inheritance by somehow pulling her ass out of this latest debacle she had found herself in. A part of him wanted to let whoever was after Bella just kill her for him. She would finally be forever out of his life but then so, too, would be Hamilton Industries. He had worked too damned hard . . . and the carrot she was dangling in front of him was too damned big and juicy for him to ignore.

So, Aiden Hamilton had taken the information that Bella had given him and put out feelers early that morning in hopes of discovering who was behind the contract on his half-sister's life and the past couple of hours withdrawing his petition from the court. If he failed, Bella would get everything and Aiden left with naught but a token, a tiny slice from a pie that, just two months ago, he had practically owned. It was humiliating.

If this didn't work, however, he would, at least, have a sweet consolation prize of burying the thorn in his side. There was always that.

Grabbing his coat and hat, he called down for his driver and left his office. In the privacy of the car, he could use the burner phones to check his bait and see if he had a nibble. He had a few more things to put into place before he met with a killer. Last thing he wanted to do is wind up dead himself.

Nora Inglehart was getting ready to leave when Aiden exited his office. The dark-haired woman was his senior by a little more than a decade although she didn't look it. She had been hand-picked by Cedric Hamilton to be his son's secretary years ago, when Aiden had first started out in the business. The woman was the best gift his father had ever given him. Smart, dedicated, and, especially, loyal . . . Nora had been with Aiden ever since.

"Enjoy the rest of the day, Nora," Aiden said as he moved past her.

"Sir?"

He paused and looked back at the woman. "Yes? Did you need something else before I left?"

"Is everything alright?" Nora asked him.

"Yes. Why do you ask?" Curious . . .

"It's just that . . . Well, you seem different today," Nora said. "A couple of days ago, you were so frustrated and, today, you seem . . . better, hopeful, even though I know you stopped the suit against her. Has something happened?"

Aiden hesitated for only a moment. Nora was, perhaps, the one person he still felt he could trust.

"My half-sister gave me a task," he told her. "If I can complete it . . . Well, let's just say we've come to an agreement that will prove amicable for the both of us."

Nora blinked. He almost smiled. He had just dropped a bomb on her. Nora knew all about the animosity between the siblings. She had believed, and rightly so, that he would never deal with his half-sister except through their lawyers. Things change, however.

"Amicable?" she asked unsure.

"Our . . . father," Aiden hated sharing. The word 'our' when used in conjunction with Bella always left a bad taste in his mouth. "He left a tangled mess in his will, the strands of which are only now being freed enough that something might be accomplished," he stated enigmatically.

Nora tilted her head as she stared at him. "I . . . see," she said, although she really didn't. "That sounds quite promising," she smiled. "Is that where you are off to now? To this task?"

"Indeed," he nodded his head just once.

"In that case," Nora picked up her purse and an armful of files, "I wish you the best of luck, sir," she told him as she walked past him toward the elevators. "And a pleasant evening."

Aiden watched her leave. His vehicle was parked in a private level of the parking garage, only accessible through a private elevator to himself and three of his vice-presidents. One that needed a security clearance badge to use. Nora was good employee, trust-worthy, loyal . . . She already had the highest clearance available, equal to his, to be able to do her job and assist him. He would call security and order her a badge. He would feel better knowing she was safe walking to her vehicle every night.

. . . Particularly if she were taking home sensitive documents. One couldn't be too careful, after all, he thought, remembering the attack on Bella.

Now, to contact this Deadshot person to set up this meeting . . .

"Where's Damian?" Tim asked when he entered the kitchen.

Dick was munching on an apple, keeping Alfred company as he prepared supper.

"I do believe, if you follow the thumping, you will find him," Alfred muttered, disapprovingly.

Tim glanced at Dick. "Thumping?"

"Elle's giving him drum lessons," Dick answered, amused. "Alfred's not a fan."

"Forgive me, Master Dick," Alfred paused in his chopping. "I did not mean to criticize Miss Arabella. Her voice is that of an angel and she plays divine but, at least not yet, the young sir has yet to master his instrument."

Dick tossed the apple core, ignoring the look of annoyance on the butler's face. He patted the older man's shoulder as he walked by him.

"Never fear, Alfred," he assured him. "Damian will improve. He already has quite a bit."

"Hm," Alfred murmured. "Perhaps, then, it is the instrument of choice?"

"Perhaps we should talk to Bruce about soundproofing the room," Tim offered. "I believe the room is only meant to provide better acoustics, not muffle the sounds from the rest of the house."

"Maybe we should," Dick agreed. "I'm not sure how long we'll be staying. Elle will be in there every day."

Tim shrugged. "I don't think it is Elle that is the problem."

Dick smirked. "Come on, I'll join you," he said, following his younger brother out of the kitchen. The noise was a lot louder out in the rest of the house.

It was funny to see Tim searching Damian out. This would have never have happened before Elle came into their lives. The three later Robins tended to threaten or attempt to kill one another on a daily basis . . . Or, at least, they had. Even Jason was popping in more often. It had been a dream of Dick's that his family learn to forgive and get along with one another, one that he hadn't any real hope of seeing in reality . . . Until now.

It made his heart light.

As they got closer to their destination, the thumping, as Alfred had called it, grew louder, only to be shattered by a crash of a cymbal as they were opening the door to the music room. Damian sat behind his drum set, his lack of expertise made up for by his enthusiasm.

Elle was smiling at him and nodding to the beat. "You're doing great, Damian. It's only been two weeks and you got the tempo down. We will continue to work on technique and power . . . Or in this case, lack of power."

Damian looked up at her, confused. "I'm not hitting it hard enough?" he asked.

"No, you hit it plenty hard," she assured him. "But not every song requires you to attempt to break the drum head. You need to ease up a bit and relax more."

"You're definitely improving, Damian," Dick told him as he moved toward his fiancée.

Elle greeted him with a kiss to the tune of Damian making gagging noises. They were laughing by the end of it. To annoy the youngest a little more, Dick dipped her backward over his arm and made loud sucking noises as he did his best Dracula impression. Elle squealed as he hit a ticklish spot and squirmed.

"I thought this was why you moved to the other wing of the house," Damian complained. "To spare the rest of us these embarrassing displays of affection." He walked passed the couple and grabbed an amused Tim's arm. "Come on, Drake. I feel the need to punch something."

"What? And you think to use me as your punching bag?" Tim asked, but he was already turning and following his little brother back out the door. His goal of locating Damian for his own purposes, accomplished. "Just a warning, brat, I punch back."

"You may attempt to defend yourself, Drake, but I will alert Pennyworth to be prepared to administer first aid when we are finished," Damian was saying as they disappeared down the hall, their voices moving farther away as the two headed to the gym in the cave below.

Dick set Elle back on her feet. "Ah, alone at last. Are you missing the apartment as much as I am?"

Elle smiled sympathetically. "Perhaps it won't be for much longer. Have you any clues yet as to where to find this Headshot fellow?"

He winced at that title. "It'd Deadshot," he corrected her, "and if he followed you to Gotham, we haven't been able to locate him as yet. He has ties to here, however, and our informants have an eye out for him in his usual haunts. No worries, sweetheart. We've dealt with him before. Jason is supposed to be searching Bludhaven for us tonight. He might not be aware yet that we moved back into the manor."

But even as he assured her of this, Dick made his way over to the window and slide the curtains closed. "In the meantime, if you could avoid windows?"

Elle made a face. "Seriously?"

"It's only temporary," he assured her.

"Well, you should be avoiding windows as well, don't you think?" Elle shot back.

"I can think of several ways we both can avoid windows," Dick swept her up into another embrace, grinning down at her, their noses nearly touching.

Elle responded by sliding her arms around his neck and pressed up against him suggestively.

"I have a few ideas of my own," she growled low. Although her anger at him over the weekend had long since dissipated, a little more makeup sex would not without its benefits.

"Are you thinking the same thing as I'm thinking?" he asked her as he teased her earlobe.

"I sure as hell hope so," she breathed.

"Let's go," Dick grinned. He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him.

Elle's smile dimmed a little as, instead of heading back to the stairs, Dick turned in the opposite direction. "Where are we going?"

"The gym," he called back over his shoulder. "We haven't trained since we got here."

Her eyes widened at the prospect. "Are you serious? I thought you wanted to make out," she pouted.

"And did you not ask me this weekend about resuming your self-defense?" he reminded her. He continued as he knew the answer to that as well as she. "I want to add more offense to the routine this time. Damian was correct when he said you need to know how to take down your attacker in case getting away from him isn't an option."

If she looked disappointed a second ago, Elle suddenly looked intrigued now.

"You're going to teach me how to kick your ass?" she asked him.

Dick winced a little at the prospect. "I'm sure as hell going to try," he told her, "but you don't have to look so enthusiastic about it."

But Elle was laughing again as she let go of his hand and ducked into the changing room. He hesitated as he stared at the closed door. She seemed entirely too excited by the prospect and it was a little disturbing. He shrugged it off and made his way toward the other changing room.

Who was he to complain about her change in attitude? They might just manage to accomplish something this time around, more than they had when he had been forced to drag Elle into the gym, anyway.

The night was less dark than usual. The heavy cloud cover and the scent of moisture in the air promised another snow was on its way, probably by morning. While the clouds did its part in obliterating the night sky and hiding the moon and what stars that were bright enough to still be seen in the city, it also reflected the lights back down onto the city itself, making it pretty easy to see despite being in an alley.

He only had a little time to accomplish his goal before Red Robin and Robin would be looking for him. He preferred that this mission be handled secretly. Instead of looking up the information on the Batcomputer in the cave, Batman had waited until he was alone in the Batmobile to look it up. The computer in the Batmobile was linked to the Batcave but he could search without having to worry that someone would enter and see what it was he was working on. It had taken three minutes to break into the city's files and pull the plans for the North Gotham Protestant Church. Less to determine where the offices were located.

The Church had a security system but it was an older system and not top of the line. It was the work of minutes to disable it, unlock the window, and slip inside. This late, and without being alerted to an intruder's presence, there was no reason for anyone to still be here. The minister lived in a neighboring building but still offsite and on the other side of the compound. Batman turned on the desk light.

He started his search on the desk belonging in the outer office. The secretary might have information on her desk calendar and . . . Bingo! It was amazingly easy to locate information that had no relevance to a crime in an office that was not involved in anything shady. No reason to hide it, the info he was looking for was right out in the open.

The secretary's calendar had all church-related events listed through every month. Batman only needed to check the names listed on the month and day that Dick and Elle had hoped to have their nuptials. The calendar was open, of course, to January so he flipped past February to March and there it was.

Saturday, the fourth of March . . . There were two weddings! One in the morning: Hooper/Paulson at nine a.m. and one in the evening: Quinn/Grant at seven p.m.

Bruce had no idea if Elle preferred a morning or evening wedding. Dick wanted Elle to have her dream wedding, though, and making certain that it happened was to be Bruce's gift to them. An anonymous gift, but one he was determined to give. He copied the names and the phone numbers listed. He would simply give both couples the weddings of their dreams as well as long as they were somewhere else on that date. It would cost a chunk of change but it wouldn't make a dent in his bank account, one of the joys of being a billionaire.

He stopped by the file cabinet and searched for further information on both couples. It would behoove him to have the full names and addresses of both parties and any pertinent information the Church retained on them. Ten minutes after he had arrived, Batman had turned out the light and climbed back through the window. He enabled the security system and checked the time. Plenty to meet up with the boys and continue their patrol.

Part one of this particular mission was accomplished and he would contact the couples tomorrow from his office.

REACTIONS?

Things might be looking up for our couple at last . . . And sneaky Bruce is proving to be too sweet. ;D