A/N Almost there!

As always, a large thank you to my bat-beta, IcyWaters!

Disclaimer He had it comin'! He had in comin'! He only had himself to blame. If you'da been there, if you'da seen it! I tell ya, you woulda done the same…

Disclaimer courtesy of Chicago.

Chapter 45

The cops came to bring Earl in
They searched the house
high and low
Then they tipped their hats
and said 'Thank You ladies
if you hear from him let us know.

Well the weeks went by and
Spring turned to Summer
And Summer faded into Fall
And it turns out he was a missing person
who nobody missed at all.

- "Goodbye Earl"

It was a little before eight when Bruce appeared in the kitchen and found Alfred making coffee. "Has Fox called?"

The butler shook his head, and Bruce settled himself in front of the morning newspapers. The front page story was, of course, the school hostage situation. The Wayne Enterprises scandal had been pushed to page three, but what had happened at the factory was nowhere to be found. And even when Henry Judas' arrest hit the papers, he realized, the splash would very small because none of the witnesses were particularly interested in talking.

"Alfred," he began, setting aside the papers and accepting a cup of coffee, "where was I last night?"

"After the press conference with Mr. Fox, you drove off into the country in a depressed fit, and I was unable to reach you until after Master Dick had been safely returned home."

"I am such a loser."

"I've known worse, sir."

"You're a great comfort to me, Alfred."

- - - - - -

Gladys was worried about Lucius Fox. He was in the office when she left last night, and was still there when she returned in the morning. In fact, she was beginning to think he hadn't left the building since those dreadful investigators had arrived days ago.

"You're not supposed to be here," he told her absently, as she plopped his favorite cappuccino by his elbow. "It's Saturday."

"Hmmmph," she sniffed. "What did you do, sleep in the lounge?"

The phone rang and he snatched it up. "This is Fox…Oh, they did?...For what?…I see…Thank you for calling." He hung up, beaming like Christmas had come a week early, and sprang out of his chair. Gladys shrieked as he grabbed her waist and spun her around the office.

"Mr. Fox!"

"They arrested Earle this morning, for fraud and conspiracy to commit murder. Among other things." He grinned down at her. "Isn't that the most beautiful thing you've ever heard?"

She tried to look severe and failed. "Does this mean you'll actually go home and get some sleep?"

"Who needs sleep?" He let her go and waltzed himself back over to his desk, humming.

Gladys smiled to herself and went back out to the reception area. She had grandchildren, after all, and she recognized the Dixie Chicks when she heard them.

- - - - - -

Rachel was dressed in her bathrobe when she opened the door, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes, as if she hadn't slept all night.

"We need to talk," Bruce said simply.

She nodded and opened the door wider to let him in. "Do you want coffee or anything?" she asked as she waved him to a seat on the couch.

"No thanks."

Rachel filled her own mug, then perched on the edge of a chair across from him. "Bruce, about yesterday…"

He cut her off. "Yes, about yesterday. Dick heard us. That's why he hid in Somerville's car and ended up in social services."

Rachel stared at him with horrified eyes. "Oh, Bruce…I'm so sorry."

His eyes were cold, uncompromising. "It's done. There's no taking it back. What I need to know is – what do you plan on doing?"

She closed her eyes, wrapping her hands tightly around her mug. This wasn't her first cup of coffee, and Bruce wasn't the first visitor she'd had that morning.

"What did you mean yesterday, when you told me you would give me anything I needed to get Richard away from Wayne?"

"I...I don't know what I meant."

"Then you'll have no objection to my telling you – you meant that you were peculiarly confused, and hadn't thought through what you were saying. Since then, you've come to your senses and realized that you meant nothing at all."

"I..."

"Swear to me, Rachel Dawes. Swear you will leave that family alone."

"You have no right to interfere with them."

"And you do? You don't want to fight me on this Rachel. Believe that if you believe nothing else. Ultimately, you'll only have one course of action – to expose him for what he is. I don't think even you are capable of that."

"I'm leaving Gotham. I've been offered a job with a good firm in Chicago."

She could see she had caught him off guard, and the edge of his coldness melted a little. "Gotham is your home. Rachel, if this is because of me…"

"It's not," she said hastily. "I wasn't ready for this job, Bruce. I did it because there was no one else, but…Do you know what happened last night?"

"Which part?" he asked, not without a trace of humor.

"My part. I was in Henry Judas' office and I heard something I wasn't supposed to. He caught me, and for a while, I thought I wasn't going to make it. That he was going to get away with it. And it would be my fault, because I should have seen through him."

He sat silently for a long moment. One part of her wanted him to protest, to tell her that she was wrong, to ask her to stay. But in the end, all he said was, "Ok."

Torn between relief and disappointment, she set her mug down and clasped her hands nervously in front of her. "I'll be around for a couple of months yet. They have to replace me before I can leave."

"Until that happens, it would be helpful if we could keep up the engagement charade."

Rachel nodded. "All right."

"I appreciate that." Bruce stood to go. "I'll miss you Rachel."

She tried to meet his eyes and failed. "It's for the best."

"You're right. As always."

- - - - - -

Gordon sat next to the glaring bat-signal, his hands clasped between his knees. He rarely used thespotlight, preferring the much more discreet phone number, but he wasn't getting an answer and this was urgent.

There was a deliberate scrape on the roof behind him – the Bat announcing his presence. Without turning around, Gordon said, "I suppose you know Henry Judas confessed, implicating both Andrew Williams and William Earle. We barely caught him on his way to the airport." He paused but there was no response. Gordon squelched the urge to turn around to made sure he actually had an audience before continuing, "The funny thing about the law is, the more money's involved, the more justice everyone seems to think should be given."

"Earle?" the Bat asked.

"The Feds want him. They're shipping him out tonight."

"Fast work."

"Apparently they don't place a lot of confidence in our security. A van's picking him up in an hour. But until then, he's sitting by himself in a little interrogation room on the second floor. Not a bad place, actually. Even got a window." He waited a moment and then lifted a small radio to his mouth. "Fiskers, take a coffee break."

When he was sure the Bat was gone, Gordon let out a low sigh and hunched forward over his knees. He was cold and tired to the bone. Barbara had, understandably, not been entirely thrilled with the way he'd been singled out at the hostage situation, and after he had finally gotten home the night before it had taken two hours to calm her down. He closed his eyes and for a blissful moment imagined what his life would be like had he chosen another profession. Flipping hamburgers, for example. It was steady work with regular hours, and the most complicated moral question involved was Would you like fries with that?

- - - - - -

Earle sat alone in the dark room, his wrists handcuffed and his ankle chained to a steel table bolted to the floor. When his guard abruptly left, mumbling something about coffee, and when the lights went out immediately afterward, his flickering hope that he had not been forgotten grew to a bright flame. He was a valuable ally, after all, a faithful servant. Someone would be coming for him.

There was a whisper of movement behind him, and he felt a surge of triumph even as he was jerked from his chair and spun so that his back arced painfully against the sharp edge of the table. The light from the window was only enough to outline a black head and set a gleam in a pair of fiendish eyes.

"Tell me about Charles Grayson."

"I…I…" Earle stuttered with fear. He could feel the bones in his back grinding as they were forced backwards. "He came to me…said he had a theory. I offered him workspace, but he wanted anonymity."

"You had him killed."

"No! There was someone from his past, following him."

"Who?"

"I don't know! That's what he told me, and I didn't care. I just wanted the formula, but he never gave it to me. He or his widow."

Batman grabbed Earle's handcuffed hands and forced them up so that the chain was pressed against the helpless man's throat. "You started investigating Richard Grayson last fall. Why?"

"Someone asked me about him," he wheezed.

"Gatsby?"

"Yes."

"He wanted the formula."

"He didn't know about it. I told him, and he still wasn't…interested. Said it might not even exist."

"Then why investigate?"

"He changed his mind - said it was needed."

"Needed for what?"

"I don't know. I thought…he was carrying out orders."

Out in the hall, someone rattled the doorknob. Batman's steel grip released, and Earle fell heavily to the floor. By the time his guard entered, the only person in the room was the ex-C.E.O., who lay in a gasping, trembling heap like a beached whale.

- - - - - -

"Where do we stand on the custody issue?" Bruce asked bluntly.

It was Sunday morning. On Saturday, between police matters and company business, he actually hadn't seen Somerville at all, so he had made a special effort to be up for breakfast.

Somerville buttered her toast before answering. "I saw Judge Farr yesterday. He agreed that given the current state of social services, the matter should be dropped. You are to have a checkup in six months time, another in a year, and after that, once a year for four years."

"And that's it?" he demanded, not quite able to believe it.

She lifted her eyebrows in faint mockery. "I got what I came for, Mr. Wayne. I don't have any more time to expend upon your affairs."

Half of Bruce's mind scrambled for a snarky reply, while the other focused on footsteps that were coming toward the kitchen. Alfred's regular tread was easily identifiable, but it was accompanied by a staccato tapping. Very high heels, but who at this hour...

Alfred appeared in the doorway. "Miss Somerville, your sister is here."

Somerville actually dropped her fork. It clattered loudly against the crystal plate as her expression flitted from shock, to anxiety, to fury. In a matter of seconds, the unshakeable control she had exhibited from their first meeting evaporated. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to take you home of course." The woman who stepped around Alfred was about the same height as Somerville, but slender, and dressed in a close-fitting maroon dress that showed off her very attractive figure. With her clear olive skin and glossy black hair cut fashionably short she was exotically beautiful, about as unlike the frumpy and severe Somerville as it was possible to get.

"I am on a job, here, Terry."

Terry? Bruce distinctly remembered Somerville implying that Terry was a boyfriend.

"Really? Deek said the job was over."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous this could be?"

Terry walked forward and rested her hands on the breakfast bar. She smiled, a tight, nasty little smile, and Bruce suddenly saw the family resemblance. "Do you have any idea how dangerous I will be, if you don't show up for Christmas like you promised?"

Somerville's anger abruptly dissolved into a look of guilt. "It's still early," she muttered.

"Yes, that's what you said about Thanksgiving, when you didn't show up. And Tamara's birthday. And last Christmas."

"I explained about last Christmas."

"I'm tired of your explanations, Cecilia. You can't hide from me forever. Our plane leaves in two hours. You have twenty minutes to pack."

Somerville stared at the other woman defiantly. "You are not my mother."

"Of course not. That's why I can do this." In a swift move, Terry snatched the glasses off her sister's face and cracked them in half. "Go pack."

Somerville blinked, looking dazed. "Fine," she muttered. "I didn't know how I was going to get a plane ticket, anyway." She stalked out of the kitchen.

Terry tossed the broken glasses in the trash, then turned to find Bruce staring unabashedly at her. She threw back her head and laughed, a light, musical sound that was as sophisticated as the rest of her appearance. "Forgive me. You must be wondering who this terrible woman is who storms into your house and makes dreadful scenes at uncivilized hours." She smiled, the smile of woman perfectly aware of her usual effect on men.

He smiled back, an indolent, charming expression he usually reserved for European models. "Not terrible. Intriguing. Refreshing."

She extended a slender, long fingered hand. "Teresa Somerville de Giovanni."

"Bruce Wayne. I can't tell you how absolutely delighted I am to meet you."

She looked up at him wide-eyed, clinging to his hand. "Funny, people always say that to me when they've met Cecilia first. You poor man, has she been very dreadful?"

"Very." He released her hand and helped her to a seat at the counter. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Coffee would be delightful." She perched on the stool, waiting while he found a cup and poured. "I must apologize again for causing such a dreadful scene. Actually, I'm surprised it wasn't worse." She thoughtfully stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into the coffee. "She gave in too easily. Which means…she's done something she doesn't want me to find out about." She tilted her head questioningly at Bruce. "Do you know what it is?"

"No idea," he said with perfect sincerity. Somerville had performed enough questionable actions in the past two weeks to upset a dozen sisters.

Dick wandered into the kitchen, looking sleepy, all the hair on the right side of his head sticking straight up. "Hey, Bruce."

"Good morning, sleepy head."

Terry twisted around on her stool. Her eyes widened when she saw the small boy, and an expression of dismay flitted across her face. "Cielos. I should have known."

- - - - - -

Alfred watched Somerville fumbling about on the dresser top for a moment before he knocked softly on the doorframe.

She squinted in his direction. "Ah…Mr. Pennyworth?"

"I wondered if I might be of any assistance."

She hesitated, then smiled ruefully. "I would be grateful, since my sister has seen fit to deprive me of my eyesight."

"She seems a very determined woman," he remarked, efficiently gathering the contents of the dresser top and depositing them in her bag. "She reminds me of you."

Somerville snorted.

They worked in silence until the few possessions scattered around the room were neatly stowed in a battered suitcase. Alfred snapped the clasps and lifted it upright. "I don't suppose," he said slowly, "that there's any chance I could persuade you to stay on?"

"I don't quite follow you."

"Master Dick is in need of a new tutor."

She swung her unfocused gaze to him, startled, then squinted fiercely. "You're taking advantage of me, Mr. Pennyworth. Are you quite serious?"

"Perfectly."

"There is not the smallest chance."

"I'm sorry to hear it." He lifted the case and started to leave.

"You weren't supposed to like me," she burst out, aggrieved.

He couldn't resist smiling at her peeved expression, knowing she couldn't see his expression at that distance. "You're a very talented woman, Miss Somerville, but you must remember that I live…here."

"My sympathies."

"I don't need them."

"No," she said thoughtfully, "I don't suppose you do."

- - - - - -

Alfred handed the suitcase to a valet to deposit in the car where Terry was already waiting. Bruce stood in the front hall with Dick by his side, feeling awkwardly formal. Somerville handed him a manila folder. "A copy of the recommendation I'll be sending Judge Farr."

He nodded and extended his hand – his right hand. "Goodbye, Miss Somerville."

She looked at him narrowly for a moment, then placed her crippled fingers in his own. "Goodbye, Mr. Wayne. It could have been worse." She squinted down at Dick. "Goodbye, Richard Grayson. Keep up with your chess and your reading."

"I will. Goodbye, Miss Somerville."

Alfred opened the door for her. "Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth," she said quietly, and Bruce received the sudden impression she was talking about more than the door.

"You're welcome, Miss Somerville."

She climbed in beside her sister, and the car drove off.

Bruce waited until the vehicle was out of sight. "Is she really gone?"

"Absolutely," Alfred replied a little absently, still staring down the long drive.

Bruce flipped open the folder and scanned through the document inside. "Well, she doesn't exactly give me a glowing character endorsement, but…" He looked up and grinned "…she does recommend that the investigation be dropped. Completely."

"Yeah!" Dick punched the air and ran around in a crazy circle.

Bruce just stood still and let the sweet relief flow through him. "Alfred, that was the most harrowing two weeks of my life. Somerville was right though."

"Was she?"

Bruce shrugged. "It could have been a lot worse."

All But Concluded

A/N Well peeps, that just about wraps it up! Next week is the Epilogue! (Which is really just the last chapter, but since I had a Prologue, I figured I'd better have an Epilogue too.)

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