Don't worry, don't worry, I PLAN for the story to be mostly about the angst (there's some in this section). But you need a plot to carry it along, you know. :p Thanks for the nice comments. I did take French, but it was a few years ago. I'm embarrassed at how much I've forgotten. My Riddler will, I hope, be a bit more serious and scary than the 60's version. Anyhoo, enjoy this section.

"Holy hostage, look at this," Dick exclaimed when he saw the morning paper. "the Lorandian princess was kidnapped yesterday. Why, we were just talking about her a couple days ago!"

Bruce scrambled for a way to take Dick's attention off the paper. "Holy hostage? Is that another turn of phrase popular at your old school?"

"No… actually, that's all me. My mother got tired of hearing 'holy cow' and 'holy smokes' so I told her I'd get more creative."

"Did she appreciate that?"

"It annoyed her even more. I think that's why I kept it up." Dick's smile faltered and he looked down at the paper again.

Bruce supposed that any talk of his family was likely to sadden Dick for a while.

"Hey… it says here… listen: 'millionaire Bruce Wayne is said to have been with the princess's governess near the time of the abduction. However, Wayne has not yet been reached for a statement. Is that true, Bruce? You were there?"

"I happened to be nearby."

"At the flea market?"

There was an awkward silence.

"At the flea market you said you couldn't go to yesterday?" Dick persisted.

I really need to start planning these things better, Bruce told himself. I knew this kid would give me trouble. "Something came up," he said coolly. "A change of plans."

Dick stared at him for a long moment. "OK," he said at last. He looked at the paper once more. "Think she's all right?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Who knows?"

Alfred entered the breakfast room. "The king of Lorandia sends his regards, sir. His man just told me that a ransom note has turned up. The police have it now."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said, not really meaning it. The timing was bad.

"You know the royal family?" Dick said, sounding surprised. "What the—why didn't you… Bruce…"

"I'm not used to telling people all about my life," Bruce declared. I'm gonna break his little heart. Break it more, that is. I've got more important things to worry about. I need him out of my way.

"I see," Dick answered stonily. He was silent a moment as he sipped some orange juice. Then he set the glass down with an angry thunk. "I don't care if you don't want to tell me stuff," he said. "Just don't lie to me." He pushed his chair out awkwardly—it was a larger chair than he was used to sitting in at the table—and ended up knocking it over. Embarrassed, he fled the room.

"That one is a spirited young man," Alfred commented as he righted the chair. "And one of strong moral conviction."

"He's in the way," Bruce said. "I never thought this was a good idea. It's not fair to him either. There has to be someone else he can stay with."

On the other side of the breakfast room door, Dick heard Bruce's words. He didn't stay to hear any more. He went to his room and began to pack. Why stay where I'm not wanted? Aunt Harriet told me she wished I could stay with her—she won't mind putting me up at short notice. My lawyer can straighten it out. A dying wish isn't legally binding. I don't have to stay here.

But Dick knew he did want to honor his father's wish, even if it wasn't legally binding. Because it was what he was supposed to do. His movements slowed until he'd stopped packing and sat forlornly on his bed. "Holy dilemma," he muttered. His eyes came to rest on the History of Gotham City book he'd been reading.

He got up and wandered down the long passageways and staircases to the library. He looked around at the grand bookcases, the small statues, the paintings, the little bust of Shakespeare… and the chess board he'd set up the night before, hoping he could talk Bruce into a game that day. In frustration, he knocked the pieces to the floor.

Why did he agree to this in the first place? he wondered. Was it a PR stunt or something? He obviously doesn't like teens. Maybe he isn't a people person at all. After all, he was raised by the butler.

"This is a secure line, Commissioner. You can speak freely."

"The Riddler sent a ransom note to the king at the Grand Hotel. He's demanding fifty million dollars for the princess's return. He included a lock of the princess's hair. He says he wants an answer by noon tomorrow, or his next message will include the rest of her hair."

"So we are dealing with another psychopath." Bruce concluded.

"Just lucky, I guess. He also included another riddle like you said he would. It goes, 'If you have a taste for danger, you should call on your dark knight. But if you need a real savior you must look to the light.' It doesn't seem to give us much to go on."

"How's the background check coming?"

"No positive identification yet. But we're narrowing down the regions he's likely to be from. For instance, a few people told us he couldn't be from their region because his accent wasn't right. We're also trying to track down the tailor that made his costume. We think it was probably custom-made."

"Good thinking, Commissioner. I'll see what I can do about the riddle."

"What should I do about the ransom demand?"

"Tell the press you're working on raising the money."

"The city can't afford to put up the ransom," Gordon said, sounding tired. "And it will take time for Lorandia to confirm the validity and seriousness of the situation before they can set aside a sum like that."

"I know. But the king seems to know that millionaire, Bruce Wayne, personally. Try contacting him and see if he can help."

"Bruce Wayne? Well… I'll try. But he's kind of a fop, Batman. I'm not sure he'll see the importance. "

"Try anyway. You're running out of options."

Minutes later, Bruce answered his land line and feigned surprise when Gordon asked for his help.

"Well, it's very sudden, but I suppose I can call my trustees," he said. "I do want to help if I can."

"Please do that, Mr. Wayne," Gordon said. "I can't tell you how urgent it is."

"I'll do it right away, then."

After a few phone calls from his study, Bruce knew he was running out of options himself. He needed help with the riddle. And he knew he had to ask Dick.

There was a knock on the study door.

"Yes? Come in."

Dick entered the room meekly.

"Dick… sit down," Bruce offered.

"I wanted to apologize," Dick said, approaching Bruce's desk slowly, "for knocking over the chair this morning. And if I was rude… I was rude. I'm sorry."

Bruce studied Dick for a long moment. "That's all right," he said at last. He wondered how he could steer the conversation to the new riddle. "Maybe I shouldn't keep you in the dark so much. I'm just used to Alfred being my only confidante. Comes of living alone too long, I guess."

"Listen, Bruce," Dick said, sitting down, "I get it if you don't want a dependent right now. I was thinking—" He took a deep breath. "My aunt Harriet—you met her, right? Harriet Cooper."

"At the reading of your father's will."

"Yeah. Well, she's always said I could stay with her. Maybe this would be easier for me if I could be with someone I know. For a while, at least. And it would give you time to make some adjustments if you really want to do this."

Bruce hesitated. If Dick could be useful in catching the Riddler, then it was imperative that he stay around. But how much help could he really be? "Maybe we're both being hasty," he said. "Let's take a while to think it over."

"Sure," Dick agreed. "But maybe we could call Aunt Harriet and see what she thinks."

"We can do that."

"Thanks."

"Before you go," Bruce said, trying to sound casual, "I thought you might be interested: I've learned that the king received a ransom note today."

"So the princess is probably still alive."

"Probably. The kidnapper sent a riddle along with his note." Bruce repeated what the commissioner had told him.

"Well, the dark knight is obviously Batman," Dick said. "A taste for danger may just be a red herring… then again, it could have something to do with food. Like if he's keeping her in a warehouse belonging to a food packing company."

"What about the second half of the riddle?"

"An obvious reference to religion. Maybe she's near a church, or a cross-shaped monument."

"Why a cross?"

"'Look to the light' is a very Christian cliché. It's all about having faith and stuff. Besides, Christianity is centered on a savior."

"So are several other religions."

"It just sounds Christian. My mom was a Methodist—trust me on this one," Dick said firmly. He stood to go. "Oh, by the way, I'm also sorry I made a mess of the chess set in the library. If Alfred hasn't found it yet, I'll clean it up."

"You… did what to it?"

Dick shrugged sheepishly. "I was mad, so I knocked the pieces off the board. I'll put them back."

"All right. Thank you." Bruce watched Dick leave. He began thinking the riddle over again, in light of what Dick had said. "A taste for danger," he murmured quietly.

Princess Ellora had realized fairly quickly that the magic act had been an act on two levels. When the Riddler joined her backstage, she had expected him to swear her to secrecy and then make her reappear. Instead, he had engaged her in conversation about the market, her family, and a supposed reward her father had offered for a clever stunt from the entertainment. He said he wanted her to hide and not let anyone know where she was until her father granted him the reward. She must be a clever actress, he said.

Well, I can act on several levels, too, she thought, nodding as the magician went on and on, as if she were not very clever at all, and probably had a hard time understanding him.

"Do you understand, my dear?" he asked.

Ellora smiled sweetly. "I sink so," she said, allowing her French accent to come to an exaggerated degree. "You want me to act—what sohrt of pahrt will I play?"

"Baby bear," the Riddler grinned. "How do you say it in French? Bébé…?"

"Ours," Ellora supplied, still smiling, though she felt ill.

"Ah, yes. Like Ursa minor, right?"

Ellora tilted her head to the side, hoping she wasn't overdoing her look of curiosity. "I do not undehrstand," she said.

"Don't worry, my dear. You shall be the baby bear, and I shall be the papa bear, and my good friends will be the mama and Goldilocks. We shall walk freely through the market, and no one will recognize you. But we must hurry—I've arranged an entertaining evening for you. Quickly—what's the word—vite?"

"You ahr vehry clever, monsieur," Ellora said, thinking to herself, If he addressed me that way in my own country, I'd have him banished.

The Riddler smiled to himself as he delivered Ellora and the costumes to a very short woman who would chaperone the princess and play the part of Goldilocks. He grinned broadly inside his bear costume as they trooped by that meddling Bruce Wayne and the Lorandian governess. Everything was going according to plan.

As usual, comments are welcome. Just don't steal all my thunder with your speculation. xD