Come What May

by DC Luder

Sixth story in the Series of Three. Not long after having their world turned upside down, the Family must face the combined threat of an old foe and friend. Chapter 13: When push comes to shove...

3. Come What May: III

Title: Come What May

Author: DC Luder

Summary: Halloween is always interesting in Gotham.

Infringements: All recognizable and related characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: Costume shopping dilemma is inspired by actual events.

^V^

I had spent nearly three-fourths of my life striking terror into the hearts of criminals.

I was a decorated officer and a celebrated, albeit retired, homicide detective of the Bludhaven Police Department.

I was a master of dozens of martial arts and a barrage of weaponry.

I wore the guise of Batman twice in my life while my mentor recuperated from injuries and uncertainties.

On top of that, I was a good looking guy, even after all of the strain and suffering I had endured in my thirty-six years. I still had thick, jet black hair, adorably askew after being tussled in frustration. My blue eyes were only second to my bright smile, both of which could be combined to gain complete control over others. I dressed well, wore nice cologne, had proper posture and impeccable manners when in public. Happily married, I couldn't help but notice the effect I had on others, even when I wasn't trying to charm them.

And yet there I was at the Masquerade Shop, the eighth Halloween costume store I had visited that morning, at a loss of what to do.

Instead of waiting in the ridiculously long line at checkout or even battling traffic out in the parking lot, I was arguing with a soccer mom that I could have easily overpowered with both of my arms out of commission.

"Ma'am, you don't understand," I put on the nicest smile I could muster, "If I don't come home with that costume, my wife is going to eviscerate me."

The late forty-year-old succubus before me snarled, "You better stop harassing me, I'm going to go tell the manager."

"Let's not make a scene," I offered, the dimples in my cheeks becoming painful.

It was supposed to have been a simple enough Halloween...

Barbara had finally convinced Jim and Mo to come out and visit for a four day weekend. The main selling point had been to get pictures of Ethan and Sarah together, dressed up for Halloween as a candy corn and a candy pumpkin respectively. Naturally, Jim and Mo had ordered the costume for their daughter weeks in advance and I had claimed to have done the same. I had planned on picking my son's outfit up after work for several weeks but with the Firm busting at the seams with new business, it kept getting pushed aside.

When I had finally confessed my procrastination to Barbara, she had remarkably stayed calm.

Then she had threatened to put my arm back in a sling for another four months if I didn't have a size 2T candy corn outfit for Ethan on October thirty-first.

Knowing her arsenal of weapons, I had taken the threat very seriously and had proceeded to spend the last week before Halloween scouring the internet and the city of Gotham for $24.99 worth of orange, yellow and white cotton cuteness. As expected, every retailer was out of stock on the particular costume but graciously recommended Winnie the Pooh, Elmo and Bamm-Bamm. None of which even closely resembled that which my wife desired… and demanded.

There had been a brief moment where I had pondered asking Mattie to sew one for me, seeing how she had managed to make her own Huntress guise. However, deep down I knew that it would have only been a matter of time before my scheme was discovered. Knowing there must have been other foolish fathers in a similar predicament, I had continued checking with area and even regional stores as their inventories fluctuated while October drew to a close.

Finally, on the thirty-first, just as I was getting ready to cash in my trust fund and rejoin the circus, the call came. In fact eight calls, all informing me that the costume I had been interested in was once more available at their convenient locations. Unfortunately, due to the high demand and despite my cash bribes, they were unable to specifically hold one for me. In my last desperate act, I had forced my way into the eighth costume shop of the day and low and behold, my eyes feverishly had fallen upon the plastic wrapped godsend: Baby Candy Corn.

Just as I had reached for it, fate intervened and it was snagged from the rack by the vulgar and disgruntled woman standing before me.

"My grandson is wearing this costume, pal, so beat it."

Quelling the urge to beat her unrecognizable, I offered "I'll pay you anything you want… A hundred bucks. Two-fifty."

She glared up at me from under the abundant makeup covering her dry skin, "Seriously?"

"Five hundred. I'm not kidding, if I don't come home with that costume, my wife is literally going to kill me," hoping for sympathy, I added, "She showed me the knife."

There was a long moment when I was convinced she was either going to spit in my face or pull out a rape whistle. After seemingly forever, she growled, "Let's see the cash."

I emptied my wallet into her palm, including a business card and an offer for a free home security evaluation. She had laughed in my face, "Please, my brother-in-law is a GCPD cop."

Somehow I bit my tongue, containing the remark that in Gotham that didn't necessarily mean he was a good guy. It took an hour to get through the line behind one of three frenzied clerks but at ten after one I strode out of the hot, hectic store and into the crisp, chilly air. Once my orange plastic bag and I were in the safety of the Range Rover, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Victory," I said to my reflection in the rear view mirror.

Letting the car warm up, I retrieved my cell phone from my leather coat, not surprised to see five missed calls from Barbara. In addition, there was one from Tim's cell.

Bros before… wives.

It rang twice before he answered, "Hey."

"Hey, what's up?"

"Not much… so did you find it?"

"Yes," I sighed before explaining without exaggeration the morning I had endured and had to stop twice for him to blatantly laugh at me.

"Sorry, man… it's just… it's only funny because it would only happen to you."

"Yeah, yeah. Next year I'm buying his costume in August… Where are you on this All Hollow's Eve afternoon?" When he didn't answer, I asked, "Tim? Timmy? Bro?"

A sudden rap on my passenger's side window had me tossing my phone into the ceiling of the car, jumping out of the seat and screaming in a pitch that would have put my soon to be two-year-old son to shame. Regaining composure, I looked to my right to see Tim Drake smiling, the phone still pressed to his ear. Retrieving my phone from in between my leg and the center console, I forcibly hung it up in front of him. When I regained control over my breathing and pulse, I rolled the window down a crack, "I hate you."

"Unlock the door and let me in."

I did, although when he reached for the handle, I locked it again.

"Seriously?" he asked.

"You didn't say please."

"Please, unlock the door and let me in." When I moved to roll the window up, he called out, "I said please."

Giving in, I waited until he was seated before asking, "Where did you come from? And if you say your mother's womb, so help me-."

"Actually, I was in there," he nodded to the store, "Cass and I brought Mattie into town to do some last minute Halloween shopping. It was a little too crazy, so I came out for some fresh air and saw you."

Smirking, I asked, "And what is Mattie being for Halloween?"

"Certainly not Superman…" Tim snickered, "Her father thinks the pirate costume she wore to school yesterday is the one she is wearing to the party at her friend's house tonight."

"And I take it that it's not?"

Tim smirked, "Essentially, although with modifications."

Knowing the trend for adolescent and young women to portray sexier versions of characters on the ghoulish day, I sighed, "I don't even want to know."

"Selina sent Cass knowing that she would keep things in check but without coming off as being controlling like her parents would."

After a beat, I asked, "You two celebrating with early patrols?"

Tim nodded, "Of course it's going to be somewhat decent weather so there's not even that to help deter the hooligans…"

I reached over with my right hand and set it on his shoulder, "Fear not, I will try to resist TP'ing City Hall." When he smirked, I let go of him and added, "And besides, Will is wearing my Nightwing suit while he goes trick-or-treating with the girls, so I'm sure he can help fight crime." Tim glared at me until I confessed, "Just kidding… No way I would let his business touch the inside of my baby black and blues."

Surprisingly, his smirk faded when he said softly, "Not too much longer, right?"

Nodding, I answered, "Right."

Although I was excelling at rebuilding my left arm after its immobilization period, I was still developing coordination and reflex times. Pendulum circle and isometric rotator cuff exercises had nearly brought the injured limb's muscle mass back to its original strength and according to my orthopedic specialist, the range of motion was perfect. But it was perfect for a normal person, not for me.

When I pushed off during handstands or back flips, I could feel it tighten, if only for a second. Throwing bolos at the optimum velocity was a strain and even then my aim was just a hair off, same for batarangs. I had just started practicing repelling at slow speeds and it forced a grimace to my lips whenever the line went taught. Perfect for a normal person wasn't for me.

Even though I had been quick to share my concerns with Barbara, Leslie and even Alfred, I had kept it from the others in true Bat-style. They all agreed that I just needed to continue nice and easy and eventually my doubts would subside as I regained my abilities. It was miraculous that my injuries hadn't permanently crippled me given how extensive they had been. But if I was unable to acquire the skills that I needed to do my job, they very well may have…

"Ah, here they come… listen, want to do something for dinner tonight? Cass and I can bring something over."

"Actually, Babs and Mo are cooking tonight, but you're more than welcome to join."

He reached for the door handle, "We'll bring dessert."

I watched as he joined his wife and his young protégé, both seemingly proud of their orange bagged purchases. He pointed me out to them and as I waved, Mattie trotted over, pulling her bright blue scarf tighter around her neck. With the window rolled down before she arrived, I called out, "What arrrrr you doing?"

Mattie grinned at me before quoting back the Pirates of the Caribbean line, "No, what are you doing?"

"Going as something else tonight?"

She shook her head, "No, just wanted to get a different pair leggings and different skirt… and a hat. Every good pirate needs a hat."

"As long as you are a good pirate then…" I led on.

She winked before leaning through the window and kissing my cheek, "I'm the good one. You're the one that gets into trouble, remember?"

Once they walked off to Tim's Honda, I finally backed out of my spot and made the treacherous drive back to Tri-Corner, stopping at the store to pick up a laundry list of groceries for dinner. With Sarah and Ethan under the same roof, we went through twice as many diapers, Motts for Tots juice boxes and Cheerios. Jim and Mo had offered to go shopping for dinner while I was off on my quest but I had assured them it was no problem. That and I knew how uneasy being back in the city made my almost sister-in-law.

After being attacked in their home earlier in the year, they had moved back to Chicago to start life anew but had yet to settle enough to carry through with their wedding. I knew that while they had been visiting us in Gotham, Babs and Mo had talked quite a bit about pushing forward with the ceremony. In doing my part, I had been sure to let Jim know that whatever he needed, he had no reason not to ask. The second night they had been in town, we had been drinking green bottles of Beck's, watching football replays in the den while the women bathed our children. During a commercial break, he had admitted that he felt responsible for his fiancée's uneasiness, about her uncertainties about their wedding.

Although he didn't say the words, the pain on his face had said that he was thinking that she no longer loved him the way she had before the Joker nearly killed them. I had been quick to assure him that if Mo didn't love him, she wouldn't have been down the hall, she and Sarah would have been in Chicago still. They were strong people, living in spite of what had happened. They would eventually move on with their lives and finally find the happiness that they deserved.

If Alfred could, if Bruce could, if I could, if Tim could, anyone could.

^V^

After spending my summer doing anything a normal thirteen year old girl wouldn't, I found that once school had started up, I couldn't resist the temptation. I started going to the movies with my girls, hanging out more with Terry and enjoyed sleeping in Saturday mornings. By the end of October, I was more than ready to celebrate Halloween in style with not only the Friday school dance but a costume party on the actual holiday.

Without too much prompting, Dad had allowed me to go to the dance with Terry knowing there would be teacher chaperones in place. Naturally, he was wary of the sleepover even though I had explained numerous times that the boys had to leave Angie's party by eleven and only the girls could spend the night. He was still convinced that there was enough evil that could have been carried out before the curfew. Thankfully, Mom had once again informed him that I was a smart, young lady and not about to end up on the Maury Pauvich Show.

For the last two months, Dad and I had been back to normal following our collective meltdown at the end of August. He still oversaw some of my training as I worked with Tim and Cass just as he allowed me to be somewhat involved in some of their work on the transmission. Although after a cumulative four and a half months of nothing, it wasn't exactly the Family's prime focus but it certainly wasn't cast aside to the back burner. Ignoring your enemies, no matter how far away they were, was never an option.

In the meantime, Tim and Cass had more than enough to deal with on their own. After a few quiet months following the fall of the Joker, the criminals began to step up to the plate once more. Thankfully, instead of the homicidal maniacs that my father had fought for years, the criminals leaned towards fulfilling their greed and instead of creating chaos. Transportation of drugs, weapons and prostitutes, blackmailing elected officials and bribing police officers were the main corruptions of Gotham once more. Tim joked a week earlier to me that it was if the last twenty-five years had never happened, as if the city had restarted itself with the level of crime that brought Batman into existence.

For the longest time, he and Dick mused that the Rogues were all but "retired", locked away in one institution or another. Even the villains that had risen during his reign as Batman had been no where near as dangerous as those that had come before. They had faced Icarus, who had been intent to collect financially where Firefly had carried out sick childhood dreams. The jailer had carried out his own brand of judgment, killing ex-con's released too early after his wife had been raped and murdered by one. And the drug dealing Hades, who's only link to the devil was that he had poisoned hundreds with his high-octane drugs.

And he had shot Cass and Dick without hesitating…

I had asked if he thought he would ever have his own Joker or Poison Ivy or Riddler. We had been sitting in the training bay after a painful lesson in defense and offense while being restrained. I had been holding an ice pack to the side of my head while he dabbed at his bloody lip. Although he had technically won the confrontation, I had seen to it that if I went flailing to the mats that I wasn't going to be the only one.

After a beat, he had replied, "I hope not."

"You just want to fight drug dealers and pimps?"

He had looked to me sternly but his eyes had softened, "You can't make them sound like they are lesser criminals. They threaten the people of this city. The people we are meant to protect." Tim had paused before adding, "And besides… If that is all I have to face while I wear that mask… it's a blessing."

I had wondered if that included never having to face Ra's Al Ghul if he ever decided to surface but I had kept my mouth shut.

"So what do you want for lunch, Mattie?"

I jerked in the back seat, my eyes finding the reflection of Tim's in the rearview mirror, "Um, I don't care."

"You sure?"

We had been battling Saturday afternoon traffic from the costume shop for the last twenty minutes, trying to make our way out of the commercial district. While my mind had been wandering, my eyes had been glued to the window, watching tired faces as they passed by in taxis, cars and on the street. It took a moment to realize we were in Bryanttown, barely a mile from where Tim and Cass used to live.

Thinking of a treat not available in Bristol, I smiled, "Can we go to the Sushi Bar?"

Tim grinned back at me, "I knew I liked you for a reason."

My parents loved sushi but seeing how Nathan hated it, we rarely enjoyed it as a family. Really, the only time I had a chance to eat it was when I was in the city for doctor appointments or Take Your Daughter to Work days. Dad had taught me at a young age how to properly use chop sticks and how to mix the perfect amount of wasabi with soy sauce and Mom had once let me drink some of her hot sake. A lot of the kids in my grade were grossed out at the mere thought raw fish but I couldn't get enough of it. Thankfully, where my parents had been preoccupied over the summer, Tim and Cass had come to my rescue

Over the summer, I had practically spent every hour I could with my mentors, whether it was training or simply hanging out with them. My mother had interjected once in August to say that I needed to give them their space because they were newlyweds so they could spend time with one another. Tim had been quick to point out that they loved having me around, not only for the company but a firm reminder never to have children. My response had been, "See, Mom, I'm helping their marriage."

She had rolled her eyes and said, "She is all yours."

But thankfully it hadn't been all work and no play. I walked Robbie for them on the days they worked late, we went to the movies on weekends and at least twice a month, we went to the Sushi Bar. Tim often joked that it was the complete opposite of when my father had trained him. According to him, their partnership had been developed through rigorous training, getting yelled at and being put into life and death situations long before he had been ready to handle them.

Tim had trained with the real him.

"Nice," Tim exhaled, snagging on-street parking.

We climbed out and waited for Tim as he fed the meter. Being a Saturday afternoon, the restaurant was busy but we only had to wait ten minutes before getting three stools at the East Bar. Tim stepped in and ordered the lunch special right away, including tea, miso soup, white rice and assorted samples including spicy tuna, tempura, dragon and California rolls. Add in the cute, young chef on the other side of the glass divider in front of us, and it was already a great lunch. The soup and drinks came out instantly and seeing how I hadn't eaten since breakfast with Alfred at six-thirty, I dug in. It wasn't until I was drinking the last of my soup that I realized Tim and Cass were both staring at me and fighting back smirks.

I explained why I was so hungry, but Tim shook his head, turning his gaze back to his own bowl, "No… it's just… You really are starting to fit right in."

Bowl empty, I set it back down, "You're just noticing this?"

Cass, who sat on the other side of him, added, "Slow on the uptake."

Tim sighed, "And now they both turn on me…"

As always, the food was delicious and I had a difficult time focusing on savoring it instead of scarfing it down. When we were done, I smirked when Tim looked to the waitress as she passed by, "Oaiso, kudasai."

She was quick to give him a smile and nod before handing him the check. I watched on as he fished through his wallet, then finally found myself asking, "How many languages do you speak?"

"Too many," he smirked as he handed cash and the bill back to the waitress. When she departed, he looked over at me and counted out on his fingers, "Let's see… fluently or close enough to it... I guess… English, French, Spanish, Japanese, Mandarin, German, Italian, Portuguese… and enough Korean, Russian, Farsi, Greek, Thai and Swahili to keep me from getting beheaded."

"Wow. What about you, Cass?"

She shrugged, "Only three. English. Japanese. Ass-kicking."

I smiled at that, "Guess those are the only three you really need."

Rising from his stool, Tim grunted, "Again, turning on me… not taking you guys out for lunch ever again…"

As we exited the busy restaurant, I asked, "What about Dad, what languages can he speak?"

Tim led the way to the car, "Well, all of the ones I can… plus Hebrew, Cantonese, Filipino, Arabic, Turkish, Polish, Vietnamese, Kryptonian, Swedish… really any language, he knows at least enough of it to get by."

I suddenly wondered how much my father remembered of his vast collection of linguistics, but knew I would never have the courage to ask. I then commented, "Well, maybe you speaking Vulcan counts."

Tim gasped at me but Cass laughed, "Good one."

"Is that it for shopping?" Tim asked once we had all climbed into the car.

Nodding, I replied as I buckled in, "Yeah, I'll use what we got today to modify the costume I already have."

"Can't wear the same thing to the dance and a party," Tim muttered.

"If you were a girl you wouldn't joke about that," I said.

"Good thing I am a dumb boy."

It was at least thirty minutes before we made it to Bristol, although time flew as Tim blasted music over the sound system, even joining in as I belted out song after song. When I rode up with Mom to the Preserve we often had "mobile dance parties" but it was even more fun with my younger mentors. When they pulled back around to the service entrance, I was confused to see a glossy, black Lincoln sedan, not aware that we had been expecting company. Tim and Cass didn't say anything about it and seemed to not even notice it, so I joined them in not making a big deal over a car.

I grabbed my bag and purse and thanked them for the day. Both said it was their pleasure and said for me to enjoy my night off, although not too much. I grinned at them and replied, "I will, thanks!"

Once I had watched them drive off, I approached the new car, noting the clean, leather interior. The only evidence that it belonged to someone was the cardboard cup of coffee in the holder and a pair of black leather gloves in the passenger seat. Although Mom had taught me how to break into a car over the summer, I resisted the urge and decided to figure out who it belonged to in a more ladylike manner.

Entering the Manor, I headed straight upstairs to put my things away before seeking out my family. Before I had left, Mom had said that she was going to take Nathan into town for the Halloween party at the Roberson Museum but said she would be back by three to help me get ready for the party. With it being just after three and the halls of Wayne Manor blissfully silent, I decided they had stayed a bit longer.

Alfred and Leslie were also out, volunteering at the Free Clinic for the day and well into the evening. Both had taken the time to dress up, Leslie as Gilda the Good Witch Doctor in pink sparkly scrubs and a tiara and Alfred had gone as the Tin Man in a silver painted suit and mask. Mom had taken a ton of pictures before they had left earlier that day and had even texted one to me while I had been out shopping.

That left only my Dad and whoever his guest was...

I found them in the study, both seated in the leather arm chairs in front of my father's desk. Although Dad had done remarkably well on his new medication, it sapped his energy and made it difficult for him to complete an entire work week at Wayne Enterprises. I smiled when I recognized the other man, thinking he had the coolest voice ever.

Announcing my presence, I said, "Hi, Dad… hi, Mr. Fox."

Both looked at me as I walked through the open doorway, but Dad continued to frown while Lucius offered a bright smile, "Hello there, Mattie."

They had moved a coffee table to sit between them, acting as a work space for a number of documents and a laptop. Although I wanted to pry, I simply walked over and kissed Dad's cheek before asking, "What are you working on?"

"Not much, kitten," he replied, "When did you get back?"

"Couple minutes ago."

Before he could reply, Lucius rose to his feet, "Well, I actually best get going… Tam's bringing the future in-law's over for dinner tonight."

Dad made it to his feet as well, "Didn't even know she was engaged."

"We're sending out announcements next week… Hard to believe my little girl is all grown up," he smiled down at me before looking back at Dad and offered his hand, "Well, we can finish this on Tuesday. Take it easy, Bruce."

Dad shook it and replied, "You, too, Lucius."

"I can walk you out," I offered, playing Miss Manners, "Since Alfred's not here."

"Oh, that's all right, sweetie. I'll manage."

When we were alone, I looked back to see Dad collecting the paperwork and returning the various packets to marked folders. When he caught me watching, he said, "Your mother will be home soon."

"I know," I replied before taking the chair Lucius had been sitting in, "More fundraising?"

He nodded, stacking the folders before stepping towards his desk and setting them in the center of the blotter. As he returned for the laptop, Dad answered verbally, "More fundraising, grant writing, contractor bids…"

"Lots to do."

"Lots to fix," he countered. For several months he had been diligently working on bringing the powers that be in the city of Gotham together to help bring life and light back into the East End. Through personal, private and corporate donations, state and city funding as well as successful grants, he had brought the funding up to nine digits. I had asked why he didn't just personally pay for it and he had said that it needed to be a citywide effort, not just one man.

Asking help from others was something new.

Something I kind of liked.

^V^

I blamed the piercing headache not only on the abrupt start to my day, but the hatred I had for my wife's creativity and the seemingly endless digital camera flashes.

Eleven hours earlier as the alarm clock read ten after eight, Nathan had acted as my alarm, leaping onto the bed and screaming out, "Boo!"

Ace had opted to be respectful, sitting on the floor while resisting the urge to bark.

Still clad in his Giants pajamas, Nathan had proceeded to jump up and down on the mattress until I opened my eyes. I had looked to my right instinctively, frowning to see Selina was missing. Had she still been in bed, the boy would have acted on his own will. In her absence, I had presumed she had coerced him into action, something that was easily verified when he had admitted, "Mom says you have to get up."

Clearing my throat, I had reached for the hearing aides on the bedside table and nodded, "I'll be down in a little bit."

"You know what day it is, right?" he asked, cutting a final jump short by landing on his bottom.

"I know what day it-."

He took off once again, bounding off of the bed while screaming, "It's Halloweeeeen!"

Again, the dog had been reserved, waiting for me to nod before taking after Nathan.

"It's Halloween," I had sighed to myself. The day had started whether I wanted it to or not.

It had taken nearly four minutes to push myself out of bed and cross the floor to the bathroom, only to find that my robe was hanging over the chaise. Not bothering with the unnecessary trek back, I had proceeded to wash my morning meds down with a glass of water, stripped while the shower water warmed and stretched my back and arms. After a long, hot shower, I had wrapped a towel around my waist before heading to the closet. It had been the third morning I had opted out of shaving and surely it would be the third morning Selina threatened to do it herself.

I had full expectations to wake the first of November with a smooth jaw, whether I had wanted one or not.

With my only official engagements of the day being a meeting at the house with Lucius and dropping Mattie and Nathan off at their respected parties, I had dressed for comfort. Dark jeans with a white tee under a bright blue dress shirt, tucked in but with the top two buttons undone. Given that they offered better support for both my useful and useless limbs, I pulled on a pair of dark sneakers over midnight blue socks. After securing a polished, brown leather belt around my waist, I had paused briefly to pull on a charcoal colored blazer.

Suburban professionalism was the least I could offer Lucius seeing how he was driving out to meet with me…

Considering my laundry list of ailments over the last year, I honestly couldn't have been healthier. With daily exercise and strength training regimens, flexibility in my torso was nearly back to normal and I was able to comfortably walk around without a cane once my joints were limbered. I had been seizure free for ten days, my last episode being a weak forty seconds of minor trembling. But where my finely tuned dosages of barbiturates had done a remarkable job containing my episodes, it had also completely diminished my drive to do anything.

For decades I had thrived on less than three hours of sleep each night but for the last two months I was exhausted before the opening credits of the six o' clock news. I attended as many as Nathan's Junior Pee Wee football practices and games as I could but sitting out in the cold only further sapped me of what little energy I had left. Where I had previously been active in Mattie's tutelage under Tim and Cass, I had found myself leaving her in their capable hands, making it to the Cave if only a nap had been managed during the day. Given the lack of progress on the transmission, I had also deferred it, letting Barbara scan the global airwaves in hopes of a breakthrough.

Even still, I knew my injuries and subsequent medications weren't entirely to blame as I was on the fast track to the wrong side of fifty, an age I never thought I would live to see…

Taking the stairs would have only tired me out and earned stern looks from those on the ground floor, so I had opted for the elevator. I had been accompanied by Kitten, who alternated between attacking my feet and racing circles around me. At one point, he paused and stared up at me, his pupils large against his green irises, and I wondered if a black cat looped around you was still bad luck. When the gilded doors opened, the cat had bolted out, tail straight in the air and feet flying. I, on the other hand, had managed to contain my excitement for the day, walking down the corridor slowly towards the kitchen.

I had assumed that since my son had still been sporting pajamas, that he had been fresh out of bed. Entering the kitchen, I had found that he had in fact been hard at work helping his sister and mother, along with Alfred and Leslie. Rather than collectively working on breakfast, they had created an assembly line for cupcakes, cookies and treats, the quantity of which encompassed nearly every inch of counter space. When Mattie had spotted me, she smirked while adding the final touch on a sugar cookie ghost.

"Interesting breakfast," I had commented.

She had been quick to reply, "We already ate… this is for the Clinic."

Alfred, who had just taken a fresh tray of chocolate cupcakes out of one of the ovens, had promptly turned towards me, "Master Bruce, may I prepare you-."

"Coffee's fine." Stepping into the kitchen, I had inspected Nathan's work as he carefully decorated frosted cookies with bits of candy, bringing ghosts, witches and pumpkins to life. "You didn't tell me there were cookies, I would have gotten out of bed quicker."

Nathan had grinned up at me, a smudge of orange frosting on his upper lip, "You didn't ask."

Out of the corner of my eye, I had spotted Alfred quickly reheating the remnants of breakfast with Leslie quietly talking to him. It had been bad enough when it was just him that I had to battle with, but with Leslie at his side, Alfred was unstoppable.

Selina had then caught my attention next, stepping back from her post frosting cupcakes, "I have to wait for the next batch to cool… You have everything under control?" When Mattie had nodded, Selina continued, "Good… I'm going to go finish my coffee with Dad."

Shortly after I had followed my wife to the nook, Alfred joined us briefly to situate a plate and coffee mug before me, along with a steaming carafe to top off Selina's cup. When he had left, I appraised the colorful plate before me with an uneasy smile. Selina, who had chosen to sit across from me, leaned forward to explain. Pointing to the dark muffin that had a toy hand sticking out of it's crumbly top, she had said, "Buried Alive chocolate pecan muffin."

"Ah."

Selina had then picked up the piece of bread cut out in the shape of a hand, "The Thing toast." The over easy eggs were self explanatory with lines of ketchup and sliced black olive making them appear as bloodshot eyes, leaving her to point at the small dish of yogurt with two wedges of apples and rows of powdered sugar coated raisins, "It's a mouth."

"So I see."

As I began to dissect the eggs, she had commented, "Nate brought home a Halloween activity packet from school yesterday, had some festive meal and snack ideas. Mattie agreed to help him try them out."

I had expected her to have joined me for the sake of conversation but I had cleared half of my plate before realizing she hadn't said much of anything. After wiping my mouth, I had intended to ask what the schedule was for the day but she had beat me to it, "So, we have plans for tonight."

"Plans?" I had asked before removing the doll hand out of the muffin.

"Well, Nathan's going to Tyler's house for the party and he wants to stay-."

I had cut her off, "I thought we were picking him up at nine-thirty when we dropped Mattie off at Kat's?"

She had promptly kicked my right shin under the table and upon receiving my undivided attention, Selina had reiterated, "Nate wants to spend the night."

Mattie had been around her brother's age when the sleepover craze had begun. Being the second child I had raised from birth, I had expected the notion of him sleeping over to have been easier to endure but I had found my mind already spinning. As a slight distraction, Selina had said, "I already talked to him this morning. If he changes his mind and wants to come home, all he has to do is call."

Before I could interject once more, she had proceeded, "And we're dropping Mattie off after him so that we can socialize with the other-."

"Socialize?"

"Yes, Bruce. Spending time away from home with your peers. Socialize." When I had managed to not interrupt her again, she had said, "Kat's parents are having a little thing for everyone's parents, I told her we would stay for a while."

After a moment of silence, I had growled, "I'm not wearing a costume."

"Why not? I was thinking about pulling out the purple leather," her grin had been devious.

Selina had proceeded to chart out her day up until three in the afternoon. Once the baking and decorating had been finished, she and Nathan were going to follow Leslie and Alfred into the city in order to help transport the treats, leaving Mattie to get ready for when Tim and Cass picked her up to go shopping. While my daughter was out on the town, my wife and son were going to the Halloween activity party at the museum and although she could have easily predicted my response, she had still offered for me to join them. I had countered that Lucius planned on coming up to meet with me and that I needed to prepare for that.

"That's fine… and then when I get back, we can do something quick for dinner, have the kids get in costume and then we can head out by seven, back by nine and then the house is all ours."

My brow had jumped on its own, as had my Adam's apple.

She had risen to her feet, kissing my cheek before leaving the nook, "Alfred and Leslie are staying in the city tonight after the party at the Clinic. Be afraid, be very afraid."

Alone, I had stared down at the half eaten face before me, thinking that he was arguably having a better Halloween than I was.

Rather than waste time offering to help knowing I would only to be shut down, I had proceeded to the study, pleased that Ace had opted to join me from his post at the kitchen door. With abundant fund raising, we had already broken ground on buying up vacant lots and condemned buildings in order to start renovations with dozens of contracted teams. Through a hiring service, I had demanded that skilled citizens looking for employment be tapped before bringing in those already receiving bi-weekly paychecks. At last count, the project had over three hundred workers, more than seventy percent of which actually lived in the East End.

Given that the holiday season was quickly approaching, I had wanted to arrange for an event in the East End that would carry out from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Although the Wayne Foundation had scores of people who did nothing but plan events, I had remained determined to be a part of the process. The purpose of Lucius' visit that afternoon was to rehash a meeting I had missed earlier in the week, one discussing the various aspects of the month long, holiday event. As my proxy, he had attended to present what I had in mind and to take note of what was feasible given the funding, time and resources available. One of my main requirements be that no one slept on the streets by the close of the year, that everyone had their fill on Thanksgiving and that no child found themselves without a gift to open. In addition, I had desired to bring crime rates down as low as possible for thirty days with the aide of police patrols and good citizenship.

When I had presented my list to Lucius at the beginning of the week, he had sighed, "Ambitious, aren't we?"

"Someone has to be."

Hidden in the study, I had alternated catching up on information Barbara had been keeping for me on the actual progress in the eastern borough along with activity logs from patrols. Crime was seemingly stagnant as opposed to the vacuum left by the Joker filling with the undesirable. Batman was also ambitious.

I had vaguely recalled Selina and Nathan coming to bid me goodbye for the day, followed shortly by Mattie. By the time eleven-thirty arrived, I had decided to venture back to the kitchen, both for more coffee and to let Ace out. I had smirked upon the discovery of a small plate of sugar cookies left on the island counter, shaking my head to see they were black frosted bats with beady red eyes and white fangs. There had also been a small note in my daughter's round handwriting: Eat something besides these for lunch, Dad.

Lucius had arrived shortly after, prompting me to unlock the gates and put Ace up, at least until my old friend had made it into the house. Even after numerous visits to the manor, the dog had still yet to accept Lucius, who often had joked that it was because of the scent of his wife's Pomeranian. On one occasion, Lucius had suggested that he should bring the little dog over for Ace to destroy once and for all.

"Damn thing is an orange puffball of evil."

Although we had made the attempt to work diligently, shop talk had quickly given way to personal topics. He had been concerned for my well being, assuring me that he was more than able to run things until I was truly ready to come back. At one point, he had removed his glasses to wipe them, only to stare at me dead on, "I've held the fort down for you before when you've been down and out… you know I would do it again."

His frank admittance that he knew of my former life as a vigilante had come as a surprise earlier in the year, although it shouldn't have. Lucius Fox was a brilliant man with an eye for details, those that many ignored. Much like Jim Gordon, he had spent enough time at my side to know who the real Bruce Wayne was and not the one the tabloids had cherished.

When Mattie had showed up, I had just finished rehashing the extent of my physical progress to Lucius, explaining the reason behind not agreeing to further surgeries to my leg. Her presence had instantly lightened the room, encouraging us to call it a day. After thirty minutes of chatting with her in the study and trying not to interrogate her about the approaching party, Selina and Nathan had returned. With them, they had brought home Chinese takeout, to which Mattie had joked that she already had sushi for lunch. We had opted to eat in the nook as opposed to the dining room and after being prompted by my daughter, I had read aloud fortune cookie slips in Chinese.

Selina had laughed when mine had been, "The night life is for you."

After dinner, my son had transformed himself into Buzz Lightyear, prompting him to "fly" up and down the corridor of the third floor, quoting one of his many favorite movies. My daughter had adorned a pirate costume that had not even vaguely resembled the one she had worn to school the day before. I had made the attempt to protest but neither wife nor daughter seemed to care.

First stop had been to Nathan's classmate's house, of which had already been overrun by six-year-old's on a sugar frenzy. I couldn't have suppressed the flashback to Mattie's birthday party when she had turned six, even if I had wanted to. From there, we had made the three mile trek into the town proper of Bristol, Selina offering to drop Mattie and myself off before parking up the block. I had declined but Mattie had leapt from the car without hesitating.

We had ended up across the street and four houses up. Seeing how it was a somewhat public event, I had brought the cane but when I had tempted leaving it in the car, Selina had grabbed it for me. As we had walked, I looked to Selina and commented that she had never traded her pantsuit for the catsuit. She had stopped us at the end of the driveway, contemplating before untucking my shirt and musing my hair.

"Excuse me?" I had asked.

With her blouse already low cut, Selina had still made the effort to expose more cleavage by adjusting her bra and pulling the shirt down. She had taken to channeling one of the actresses in the WE company sexual harassment videos, tussling her wavy hair and quickly reapplying lipstick she had found in her purse. Reaching the front door, she had pressed the doorbell and said, "Just do as I say."

Entering the house, we had been greeted and applauded by the hostess, a red haired woman who was dressed as a naughty nurse. She had introduced us to the other parents, all wearing extravagant costumes and were several drinks ahead of us. Even as we were commended on our great costumes, I had still been clueless as to who we were. As suggested by Selina, I had frowned and repeated whatever line she whispered into my ear, earning applause and laughter. Some of the others parents had taken dozens of photographs and promised not to "tag" me in them.

When it finally sank in as to who my impromptu identity was, a new arrival to the party had laughed directly in my face, "Look, it's Dr. House!"

^V^

Given the fact that Bruce was more than capable of using his cane to dismember and render unconscious any of the inebriated parents at the party, I agreed to leave by nine-thirty.

It had actually been more fun than I had anticipated, spending a few hours out of the house and out of our element. Although our schedules were hectic, Bruce and I had always made an effort to stay active in the school community. I didn't exactly have any friends amongst the other parents, but they still made for very enjoyable and entertaining company. Naturally, Bruce had never left my side save for when I had gone to the bathroom and to secretly peek in on the kids' party in the finished basement. Both times I had found Bruce surrounded by divorcees upon returning, an anguished look fighting the charming smile on his face.

Seeing that he wasn't having nearly as much fun as I had been, I relented, kissing his cheek before asking, "Ready to go?"

"Stat," he had growled into my ear.

After bidding farewell to our hostess and the others, Bruce showed interest in checking in on Mattie. I told him that it was already taken care of and he was quick to ask, "Well?"

"She was fine, they were doing the Time Warp while watching Rocky Horror."

"Fantastic," he grumbled as we made it to the front door.

On our way to the car, I tried to lighten the mood, "We should have stayed longer… we were in the running for best couple's costume." When he glared at me, I responded with, "Oh, simmer down, House."

He stepped around to the passenger's side and sighed, "Sorry, I would, but I seem to have forgotten my vicodin."

"You have seen the show… liar," I smirked while climbing in.

"Everybody lies," he countered. Once he was in his seat, Bruce then added, "I've only seen the seasons Tim brought me while I was on bed rest… The show is just a modern, medical recreation of Sherlock Holmes."

Buckling in, I looked over at him, "Is that so?"

"House and Wilson, Holmes and Watson," he began to explain as we pulled onto the street, "Holmes and House both have impeccable deductive reasoning abilities, both have drug dependencies although for Holmes it was cocaine… both are listless when not working a case, both are musically inclined and extremely arrogant."

Smiling at him, I asked, "And you didn't like the show?"

He cleared his throat, a cover as he fought back a lip twitch, "The parallels made it remotely worthwhile."

"Remotely?"

A moment passed then he added, "That and some of the cases were mildly interesting."

"Mildly?"

There was another pause before he deduced, "You're mocking me."

"Mock you? I love you," I offered warmly, reaching over to pat his thigh.

He returned to silence, alternating between looking straight ahead and out the passenger window. I asked him if he had any missed calls from Nathan and after diligently checking, he had replied quietly, "Nope."

"No news is good news."

"Unless he and his cohorts have taken hostages." I glared at him until he defended his stance, "You don't know what they're capable of at that age, not in a pack that large... Ask Tim… Ask Clark."

I reached over and patted his thigh again, "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

After we turned onto our drive, I activated the remote to unlock the gates while he tapped the touch screen of his cell. When he caught me watching, Bruce explained, "Just texting Mattie… making sure she's responsive."

Taking the phone away from him in one swift move, I tucked it away in my purse, "She's fine. Nathan's fine. You on the other hand… you need to shave."

We made it to the service entrance just before ten. As I stayed downstairs to let Ace out one last time, Bruce said he was going to check in with Barbara downstairs. When I said I wasn't kidding about him shaving, he offered a weak promise of, "Later."

Every once in a while, he neglected the most basic of male upkeep and I wasn't sure if it was out of boredom or to recreate the days when he literally had not a single minute to spare for the task. His daily stubble was something I had long since learned to love, but a an actual beard was out of the question.

Waiting for Ace to ring the small bell on the door with his nose, I retrieved Bruce's cell phone and smiled to see he had not sent the message he had written to Mattie. I knew it was hard for him to accept that she was growing up, especially since I was practically embracing it. Over the last few months, the only sign of him coming to terms with it was when he commented that her training to become a vigilante would keep her too busy for boys.

"Boy," I had corrected him, "She only has one boy."

Leaving his cell on the counter, I pulled out my own, dialing Barbara's private line in her magical lair of technology. She answered on the third ring, "There are pictures tagging Bruce as Dr. House on Facebook and you as Dr. Cuddy… care to explain."

I did, recounting the surprisingly enjoyable evening we had spent with people our own age. She promised to forward the better of the pictures to my e-mail, of which I fully intended on printing and framing. I couldn't remember the last time we had a nice candid shot taken of us…

"Here, I'll mark my favorite one. Bruce is almost smiling… you guys actually look really cute."

"That was what I was aiming for," I joked before explaining that the costumes had been purely spur of the moment. I then added, "I think he would have had more fun staying home and watching re-runs."

"He's not the social butterfly he once was."

"Here lies the fop, may he rest in peace and everlasting champagne flute mishaps," I chided back. Although I hadn't heard the service door open, I was suddenly aware of Ace's footfalls hitting the tiled floor, followed quickly by him lapping from his porcelain water bowl. Without looking, I listened as Bruce approached, waiting to speak until I felt his hands on my hips and his lips on my neck, "So how are Jim and Mo?"

"Good, great actually. Seemed to have a fun time. We made it to the tail end of the Roberson Museum thing, but we didn't see you guys."

"No, Nate and I left once he zoomed through all of the activities," I replied evenly as Bruce pulled my back against his chest, his hands snaking around my waist, "But I'm sure the little ones loved it."

"Oh definitely," Barbara responded, "I'll send those pictures to you, too… Everyone loved the candy corn costume, about every other mom there was jealous that I had found one. After a while, I had to suck it up and give Dick the credit."

Bruce whispered into my ear, "Let's go."

Ignoring him, even as he started to unbutton my blouse, I said, "Well, we do have to be nice to our husbands every once in a while… Speaking of which, I think Bruce and I are going to call it a night. I don't remember Halloween being so exhausting."

"Blame the kids… and the sugar crash… Well, we'll see you tomorrow for Nathan's football game. Meeting at the house at what, noon?"

After confirming, we said our good-byes and I hung up in order to turn and yell at Bruce. As expected, he was ready to catch me off guard by picking me up by the hips and setting me on the counter. When he dove in to kiss me, I promptly smacked him in the forehead with my cell phone, "No."

"What do you mean, No?" he looked up at me, both with confusion and need.

"We only get to do this every five days, Bruce. I'm not wasting one, especially this one, on the kitchen counter."

A detrimental side effect to the Phenobarbital, especially at the dose Bruce needed to deter seizures, left him riddled with fatigue and his once bottomless libido completely depleted. For the first few weeks on Tegretol, it hadn't been an issue, but as the dosages went up, his sex drive had plummeted. Even though he found himself unable to be satisfied in the usual sense, he had been willing to see that my needs were fulfilled. It had only been made worse when he moved to the more potent barbiturate, completely wiping out any energy he had at all after his physical training and partial days at work. For most of the month of September, he had been listless and uninterested in anything remotely intimate. I had found him more often than not already fast asleep when I made it to bed, seemingly oblivious to any attempt made to wake him. I had tried to broach the subject with him numerous times but his response had always been to the effect that when he had a set routine, he would look into possible treatments.

Having undergone a hysterectomy after Nathan had been born, I had been battling to maintain my femininity for the better part of six years. Hormones, exercise and a proper diet had done wonders but the loving attention Bruce had always given me had been the true cure. Soft kisses and getting to sit next to him on the couch during movie time with the kids got to be old real quick. Being a detective at heart, I knew Bruce had seen it, but I had been concerned when he didn't take action.

That was until one late September evening when he had been down in the Cave watching Mattie practice throwing batarangs and bolos at dummies in the training bay. Coming home late from the Preserve, I was frustrated and had pent up energy after a long day of driving and sitting at my desk. I had found that my son was already tucked into bed and that instead of waiting for me in our room, Bruce had been playing downstairs. When my daughter had gone up to shower and change for bed, I had blatantly told Bruce that he was more than welcome to stay in the Cave that night.

Twenty minutes later, I had been in the shower, trying to relax as the stereo played too loud in the next room. When I had heard Bruce enter the bathroom, I had expected him to produce some sort of apology. What I hadn't expected was for him to strip, step into the shower and pin me against the tiled wall without saying a word. I had tried to fight him off, angry at him for not being available and at myself for not being more patient. While I had been yelling at him and telling him to leave me alone, I had stopped mid-sentence, looked down at him first in confusion and then in wonderment. I had then practically jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. We had literally fallen out of the shower, landing hard on the terrycloth bathmat. It had been the first time I had him inside me since our anniversary and I had found myself crying when I climaxed.

From there, every five to seven days, Bruce treated himself to an injection comprised of Prostaglandin, Phentolamine and Papaverine. After one particularly rigorous coupling in the middle of October, one that had left me soaked and panting, I had finally asked him how he had concocted the formula. He had responded that it had already existed, leaving him to slightly modify it to coincide with his metabolism and current score of medications.

"Why the hell did it take you so long to start using it?" I had asked between gasps, "If it's just an injection… obviously doesn't have any ill effect…"

"It's not the injection itself," Bruce had sighed, "It's where I have to inject it."

It had taken a moment to sink in before I had looked over at him in the bed, "Ouch."

He had assured me, "It's a thirty gauge needle… only a little ouch. More mentally painful than physically."

No pain, no gain…

Looking into his eyes, I hopped off of the counter and said, "Upstairs."

He sighed and stepped away, following me while grumbling. When I asked for him to repeat himself, Bruce had offered his customary, "Nothing, dear."

After riding up in the elevator, and fighting him off again, we made our way down the corridor and passed empty bedrooms for the first time in far too long. While I took a moment to undress and put away my jewelry, Bruce stepped into the bathroom alone for a moment. By the time he emerged, I was already sitting on the bed, plugging my cell into its charger. He nodded to Kitten as he slept peacefully on the foot of the bed and when I asked him what, Bruce explained, "No children. Human or feline."

I sighed before picking the little guy up and transferring him to the sofa by the bay windows, "Daddy says he only wants one cat in the bed tonight."

Crossing back towards Bruce, I smirked to see he had gone through the motion of removing his shirt, slacks and socks, taking a tentative seat on the bed in his boxer briefs. It would take fifteen minutes for the full effect to kick in, most of which we often spent teasing one another to unheard of brinks. Without warning, I climbed on top of him, pushing him down on to the covers while settling my knees on either side of his hips. As my lips took hold of his, he held a hand up, motioning me to wait.

Hovering above him, I watched as he removed his hearing aides and when I looked at him with intrigue, he said, "I'm already deaf, don't need you to make it worse."

"Are you saying I'm loud?" I grinned.

"Not usually," he smirked back up at me, pausing to lean forward and kiss my lips, "But you're going to be tonight."

As always, he was right. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that we were home alone or if it was just being so intimate with him and not having a legitimate care in the world. Whatever it was, I had completely allowed myself to be free, letting my body respond in whatever way it wanted to his touch. Somewhere, deep down, I felt bad for the couples we had spent time with earlier. So many others lost the magic after spending so many years together. For Bruce and I, we had wasted so many years apart that I knew that we would never allow the fire to burn out, at least not without a fight.

Waking the next morning, I was surprised to find his eyes already open, staring down at me. At some point in the night, I had moved to lay against him, my arm over his chest and my head settled on his pillow. I lifted a hand and caressed his rough cheek before plucking several hairs from his chin.

He jerked and grumbled, "I know, I know. Today."

I ripped a few more out with a smile on my lips.

"Or... Right now," he corrected himself, slipping his arm out from underneath me before pushing to sit upright. As he slid his feet to the floor, I gasped at the sight of his back and he was quick to ask, "What?"

Biting my lip, I then said, "Nothing."

"What?" he asked again, reaching around to touch his shoulders.

Although his flexibility had considerably improved with rehabilitation over the last few months, his fingers were just out of reach of a set of vicious claw marks running down his back. Making matters worse, I spotted what looked like bite wounds on both of his trapeziums. Rising from the bed, I told him I would start the shower if he wanted to call in and check with the kids. With the water running, I appraised my own form in the full length mirror, not surprised to see a few fresh bruises on my hips, thighs and one on my neck.

At least if Mattie returned home with a hickey, her father had no grounds to judge her considering how he spent his Halloween…

^V^

The first of November marked the final game of Master Nathan's premiere season as an offensive player on the Bristol Titans.

Prior to the game, the Family was to gather briefly at the Manor before caravanning to the high school. As with previous events, it was expected that attendees be dressed in navy blue and be prepared for the chilly weather. For the last three games, I had seen to it that portable carafes of hot chocolate, cider and coffee were brought along, as well as disposable cups. A small concession had been available but at four dollars for a Styrofoam cup of hot dishwater was unacceptable.

Following the outcome of the Titans versus the Glendale Giants, a dinner at the Manor was scheduled not only to commemorate the sporting event but also to bid farewell to Mr. Gordon, his fiancée and their daughter. Considering the festive nature of the weekend, there was no better way to close the month than a pleasant, autumn day spent with Family. In previous years, weekly dinners had been far easier to come by, but as the Family expanded and grew older, it was had become a worthy challenge of mine. The last time everyone had been under the same roof had been for Master Bruce and Ms. Selina's anniversary dinner in June.

Having spent all of Saturday preparing for, volunteering at and cleaning up after the Halloween party and blood drive at the Free Clinic, Leslie and I had opted to stay in the city on All Hollow's Eve. Although securing a room for the night whether it be at a hotel or a private residence would have been no problem given Leslie's following, I had opted to utilize the penthouse at Wayne Tower, claiming it needed to quick once over. Rising shortly after five-thirty, I had washed and dressed for the day before comprising a list of groceries. When I prepared for large gatherings, I often had my sous chef at my side for the treks to various markets. Leslie had volunteered to act in Miss Mattie's stead seeing how the young lady had donned her pirate attire for a sleepover party,

Given that the penthouse kitchen was bare, I offered to take Leslie out to breakfast, maneuvering out of Midtown and eventually the city. I exited the St. James Expressway just before Bristol, easily navigating the streets of East River with ease given the early hour. She tried to act surprised when I pulled into the parking lot of the Homespun Eatery, but I had a feeling she had known the second I had departed from the highway. It had always been one of her guilty pleasures, not only for their exquisite breakfast menu but also the vast selection of baked goods and organic cheeses and meats.

By the time we had finished our delicious brioche and eggs to order, the markets in Bristol began opening their doors at eight on the dot. We quickly sought out the items on list, gathering up fresh produce, dairy products and an impressive beef tenderloin. With a bounty of mouths to feed and appetites to sate, it was better to have too much than too little.

We arrived at the Manor to find Ms. Selina sitting alone in the kitchen, skimming a magazine while sipping coffee. She was quick to offer a hand in unloading the dozen paper bags of groceries. When I protested, Leslie said for her to ignore me. Once the counters were full of bounty, Ms. Selina proposed, "I'll help Leslie wrangle all of this… could you put fresh candlesticks in the holders on the dining room table? I think the other ones are about half way gone."

An odd request seeing how it was far simpler than unpacking produce and assorted staples.

"May I remind you that I have served under this household for approaching fifty years... and I have managed to do so while avoiding the predicament of being the butler, alone, in the dining room with the candlestick holder. Until this very moment, that is."

Ms. Selina laughed at that but Leslie only shook her head slightly, "It's too early in the morning for that razor sharp wit, old man."

Stepping into the dimly lit room armed with three new candlesticks, I realized that Ms. Selina also had an early and ambitious morning. In my absence, she had laboriously decorated and dressed the spacious room, adorning the table in an off-white cloth with the individual settings prepared with gold, rust and chocolate colored place mats. A centerpiece drape of similar hues bisected the center of the near ancient table from one end to the other, highlighted with small, colorful squashes and pumpkins. Full dinner and glassware had already been meticulously laid out along with decoratively folded napkins the same color as the white tablecloth.

Returning to the kitchen once the candles were in place, I congratulated her artistic endeavor and added, "I thank you for your assistance, ladies… but I am afraid I must evict you from the kitchen."

"We'll see about that," Leslie smirked.

Ms. Selina then offered, "Well, my work here is done... I'm going to go pick up the kids… Bruce is around here somewhere."

"Very good, madam, I shall see to it that he remains out of trouble."

When she departed, Leslie went about retrieving two a aprons from the pantry, donning Miss Mattie's white one while offering the Kelly green on to me. When I made a second attempt at protesting, she silenced me with, "Alfred, don't start."

After a curt sigh, I proceeded to explain that I intended to prepare appetizers ahead of time given the fact that there would be many guests arriving directly after spending a cold two hours in the bleachers. I assigned her the taste of preparing the crock pot for apple-cheddar sausage meatballs, of which needed to simmer slowly in a Dijon balsamic glaze. In the mean time, I went about preparing slices of pancetta to be crisped in the oven before being dressed with a goat cheese and pear topping. It was a simple enough treat but one I knew would go fast with Master Dick and Tim present, prompting me to make a double batch.

Tasks completed, Leslie asked, "Now what?"

"Now, dessert."

While I mixed ingredients for a ginger spice cake, I delegated the task of measuring and combining preparations for pumpkin pie ice cream. Miss Mattie had acquired an ice cream recipe booklet over the summer from a flea market venture with Leslie and myself. Not a week went by that she had not experimented with one of the two-hundred flavors listed, with a near perfect success rate. Regrettably, no one had been able to stomach the licorice ice cream. She had intended to concoct the pumpkin pie flavor for Thanksgiving, but I decided it was best to attempt it ahead of time.

With the appetizers stored in the refrigerator, the ice cream in the freezer and the cake in the oven, I removed my apron and waited for Leslie to follow suit. "Dreadfully too early to begin preparations for the entrée… perhaps a cup of tea is in order."

"Perhaps it is," she readily agreed.

Over steaming cups of Harney & Sons and leftover muffins from the previous morning, Leslie and I shared a quiet moment in the nook. We recounted the success of not only the Halloween party but also of the blood drive and fund raising efforts. Miraculously enough, the deputy mayor and his wife had stopped by, not in costume, but willing to donate a pint of B negative a piece. More familiar faces had also arrived, including Dr. Bryce's husband, Master Dick and his brother-in-law, all willing to raise a sleeve for a good cause. Mr. Cutting had also made an appearance, his twin girls laughing as their father squirmed while getting a needle inserted into his vein.

Thankfully, there had been only a minute amount of emergencies brought in to the Clinic, allowing Leslie and the dedicated staff to enjoy the festivities. Aside from the vast collection of treats we had delivered, there had been a variety of games and contests, the most medically related being assembling a card board skeleton, blindfolded to add a degree of difficulty. It was wonderful seeing the usually dismal setting brightened with positive energy and it was equally rewarding seeing a long-absent light in Leslie's eyes.

Just as the faintest aroma of warm cake began wafting our way, the service entrance door opened and closed, yielding excited voices. We rose from the table and returned to the kitchen to see Master Nathan wearing a combination of his pajamas and his Halloween costume. He waved at us before racing in to the corridor, calling out for his dog. With less exuberance, Miss Mattie and her mother appeared. Where Ms. Selina had been primed for the day with fresh makeup, a fitted navy blue sweater over a white dress shirt and crisp jeans, her daughter was the near polar opposite. Her makeup from the night before was smudged and her eyeliner had spread to encircle her bright blue eyes in dark. Backpack slung over her shoulder, the young lady sported gray sweat pants, sneakers and a blue down vest over a black hooded sweatshirt.

Although she offered a smile to us both, Miss Mattie departed without a word.

"Someone had a fun night," Leslie commented.

"Too much fun," Ms. Selina added.

When she asked if her husband had made an appearance, I shook my head, checking the cake while replying, "I'm afraid not."

"Like father, like daughter," she sighed before following after her children.

When the cake was out and cooling, I decided to continue holding off on starting the actual dinner, knowing full well that Miss Mattie would be back to true form following the game. With her help, it would be a literal breeze to prepare the bleu cheese and mushroom stuffed beef, roasted butternut squash and cranberry rice pilaf and apple-walnut salads.

In the mean time, Leslie excused herself to shower and dress for the football game, leaving me alone in the kitchen. As I deftly topped the cake with powdered sugar, I found my solitude broken once more, although surprisingly by Master Bruce. He too was dressed for the day in blue sweater, the v-neck revealing a white shirt underneath. I smirked to see he was wearing jeans, just as his wife had been. I was quick to greet him and offer breakfast and coffee but he had declined both, opting to watch me for a moment before inquiring, "Head start?"

"Yes, sir, one can never be too prepared, especially in this Family."

Although he had not asked for it, I prepared a glass of ice water and set it before him as he took a seat at the island counter. He thanked me quietly before asking, "How did it go, yesterday?"

Directing my attention back to dusting the cake, I replied, "Very well, sir. The season of giving has arrived early in Gotham."

"For once," he commented under his breath, "I was going to try and make it down… but Lucius came out to the house for the afternoon and-."

"Sir," I said as I turned to face him, "You have given this city enough blood, I feel."

He smirked at that and was about to say something when the battle cry of the Bristol Titans' most ferocious player echoed in the hall. A moment later, Master Nathan raced by the archway of the kitchen and towards the exit, already garbed in his football padding, helmet and practice attire. A second later, he returned, walking as fast as he could to his father, "Will you come practice with me?"

Master Bruce nodded as he stepped down from the stool carefully, "Of course… but only for a little while, don't want to tire yourself out."

Cake finished and secured under a glass cover, I was amazed to find it was nearly half passed eleven. I quickly retrieved three thermoses and covers from the pantry and then prepared hot beverages for each. Just as I prepared to secure them in a canvas tote, the door opened once more, yielding only Master Dick.

"Oh man, it smells way too good in here…" he commented, his gaze instantly finding the cake on the far counter.

"Don't even think about it, Richard."

He laughed softly before saying, "It was a tight ride up with urban bunch, figured I would hitch a ride with Bruce and Selina so Jim doesn't have to sit on my lap. Unless Tim and Cass were dropping by here first."

I nodded before replying, "I believe Master Tim and Ms. Cassandra were going directly to the event."

"All right… yeah, Babs just dropped me off and was heading over there, try and get good seats. Cold enough out that it shouldn't be a problem…" he paused as Master Bruce and son entered the house. When Master Nathan spotted his older sibling, he collided with him in an abrasive embrace. Dick gasped and knocked on the child's glossy helmet, "You ready?"

Master Nathan beamed up at him, "Bring it!"

"Nate… go get your jersey on, tiger, we're going to have to leave soon. And bring your sweatshirt."

"All right," he started towards the door, stopping briefly to flex his shoulder pad covered arms with a convincing growl of effort.

Master Dick imitated him with perfection, including the narrowed brow and curled lip. When Master Nathan departed, Master Dick continued, "Hey, Bruce."

"Dick."

After a snicker, he commented, "Nice hickey."

Although his son had channeled aggression as a means of play a moment early, the scowl on Master Bruce's face expressed true distaste. A look that Master Dick had become immune to after decades of enduring it. Laughing, he shook his head, "Maybe you should wear a turtleneck to the game… or a scarf."

I waited until Master Bruce left the kitchen before offering, "Perhaps you should ride to the game with Dr. Thompkins and myself."

Not twenty minutes later, the entire Family was situated on the bottom left two rows of the home bleachers, amidst dozens of others bundled up and ready for the penultimate game. The players themselves were equally excited, jumping up and down on the sidelines as their coaches tried to get them to focus. Although it was a childhood sport, they seemed to take it very serious, as did a number of the parents.

Where his sister had opted to spend her younger years playing true football, Master Nathan had become infatuated with the American variety. Since he had been five, he had cherished Sunday and Monday night football games, watching them alongside his father who regrettably held little interest in the sport. Super Bowl Sundays had never been celebrated in Wayne Manor throughout the entire duration of my servitude but the young master had put an end to that.

Although the team did not practice as religiously as the older teams in the league, they still met at the high school bi-weekly to practice and then every week as the competition season approached. It had not been enough for Master Nathan as he found it necessary to practice drills at home, enticing his family members of all ages to play catch with him. On special occasions, he had even donned his blue and white jersey, emblazoned with his last name and the number eight on his back, performing touchdowns against his older siblings whilst the others cheered him on.

Having never gone through the process of watching a young boy compete in the sport, I had been impressed with how very closely the pint-sized players resembled their older counterparts. Not only were the decked in miniaturized protective gear and attire, they closely followed the rules of conduct while performing specific plays. Given his boundless energy, Master Nathan had been a natural offensive player covering both fullback and running back as required by "Coach Ed". The sport was for the sake of encouraging the children to do well academically, develop good teamwork and sportsmanship as opposed to battling for coveted MVP titles.

That had not kept the young master from personally keeping track of how many touchdowns he had made, how many yards he had acquired and how many passes he had received.

Detail oriented, much like his father.

I had always made the attempt to remain reserved, applauded completed plays and good efforts for both teams. Others were had always been more inclined to shout cheers, stomp their feet and shout unintelligibly for touchdowns. Master Dick and Tim were the loudest supporters of Master Nathan, having garnered warnings from referees at past events for verbally hashing their calls.

Thankfully, they had managed to contain themselves for the final game, focusing their energies into getting all of the Titans' supporters to clap and cheer in unison.

Let's go defense.

Way to go Titans, way to go.

Clap your hands, stomp your feet, the Bristol Titans can't be beat.

By the time the blue and white clad youngsters claimed victory over their blue and red counterparts, not only had I joined in, but so had Master Bruce.

^V^

"Trust me."

"I trust you implicitly, you know that, Dick."

"Then what's the big deal?" he asked.

Standing opposite of him in the training bay of the Cave, I sighed before responding, "I don't trust your wife not to kill me."

"She's all the way on the other side of the city dropping the Gordon clan off at the airport, she'll never know."

He was right. After a divine dinner and dessert courtesy of Alfred, we had all moved to the den to recover. Not long after, Ethan had fallen asleep with his head in his not-grandmother's lap. Barbara had taken the window of opportunity to head out in order to drop Jim, Maureen and Sarah off at the airport. She had left Dick behind to watch over Ethan and had also left behind their son's car seat. Whenever Dick felt it was worth risking moving the child, he could borrow a car from Bruce and make the drive back into the city.

The rest of the Family had seemed equally spent after the long day. Nathan, who had been a nonstop ball of energy all afternoon, had also fallen asleep on the couch, although with his head in his father's lap. Although I had offered to carry him upstairs, Bruce had declined, saying he needed to go up to take his meds anyway. I had a feeling that he would not make a return trip to the ground floor, so I made sure to shake his hand and bid him a good night.

With Leslie and Alfred in the kitchen, refusing assistance of any form, it had left myself, Cassandra, Selina, Dick and Mattie as the remaining conscious individuals. I had made the attempt at being sociable for another thirty minutes before taking my leave to the Cave, Cass and Mattie at my heels. Since she had school in the morning, Mattie was cut off from the Cave at promptly nine-thirty, giving us only two hours to work that night.

Given that we all were recovering from dinner, it had ended up being more mental than physical stimulation. I had Mattie work in the computer bay, studying brief flashes of crime scene photos and quizzing her on what would be the worthwhile evidence to take. It had taken her a few tries before she finally gotten the hang of it, learning to focus on mental pictures for recall purposes rather than trying to formulate a list of items of interest.

When we were done for the night, I had reminded her that, "You never know how long you have with a crime scene. You can have a victim pop up, a suspect come out of now where… or even worse, have the cops show up."

She had smirked at that, "Good thing it's not really like it used to be… with the cops out to get you."

"Yeah," I had agreed with her, "Hard enough getting shot at by bad guys let alone by them and the bad guys."

Upon sending her upstairs, Cass and I had taken to the training bay in order to limber up and get our blood pumping. I had been just about to take her down while sparring when I heard someone call out, "Watch your back!"

The fraction of the second I had allowed myself to be distracted gave Cass more than enough time to knock me to the mats, face first.

Climbing to my feet, I had looked to see Dick approaching, "Sorry, bro. Couldn't resist."

Flexing my shoulders, I had asked, "Sure you couldn't… Are you leaving?"

Dick had shaken his head, "Actually, I was wondering if you'd hold a punch bag for me."

"Seriously?" I had responded.

"Or… you could be the punch bag, whichever works for me."

Although I had danced around actually engaging in physical activity with him, he had eventually used his charm to convince me otherwise. He, much like Bruce, had been determined to get things on track and had been dedicated to rehabilitating himself after the Joker. His arm had been out of the sling for months but he had always seemed to favor it, even after bringing back most of his muscle tone.

But as he walloped the punch bag, I had decided that maybe it was just a cover.

"Not bad," I remarked, letting go of the five hundred pound bag.

Dick wiped sweat from his brow, "The bag at the Clocktower is lighter than this one… that and I don't have anyone to back it up for my right hook of pain."

"Naming our punches, are we?" I quipped.

He grinned before throwing his right fist at my face, stopping it short as I went to block it, "See, right hook of pain."

"So I see…" I smiled back before looking for Cass. When I saw the light in the costume vault was on, I realized it must have been about that time.

Dick looked up as well, sighing before commenting, "Well, I best go get the little guy and head home… that is if I can steal him away from his Grandma."

"Not-grandma," I corrected him.

He laughed softly, "It's okay to say it down here out of her hearing range… Especially if I have backup."

"I'm sorry, man," I put a hand on his right shoulder, "But if she comes after you… you're on your own."

After a moment of contemplation, Dick said, "Pussy," before turning and heading to the stairs.

I was still smirking by the time I made it to the costume vault and when Cass asked why, I simply shook my head, "I don't know. Guess I just miss have him around."

"He's been around… just not like this."

She finished suiting up before me but rather than taking off on her own or waiting for me by the Mobile, I found her sitting on her idle cycle. Occasionally, she would ride down with me but since Dick had been out of commission and Huntress had been murdered, it had been difficult to rely only one mode of transportation between the two of us. I gave her the ladies first gesture through the windshield and she pulled her helmet on before hitting the ignition.

Unintentionally, although only at first, we ended up racing each other into the city, she winning by a small margin. Technically, she beat me only because she had cheated, racing down the shoulder for nearly four miles, leaving me to dodge in and out of traffic. When she crossed into the city limits, her voice came over the comm. link for just a second, "One-zero."

After she promptly cut the connection, I smirked before growling quietly, "Game on."

For an hour straight, we toured the city individually, contacting each other only to report additional scores. It was a game Dick and I had played years earlier, one Cass had taken to given her competitiveness. I couldn't remember the last time we had played and it brought a new energy out in me, something I hadn't felt in a while. And it was certainly refreshing after dealing with an endless parade of young miscreants celebrating Halloween the night before.

By eleven, I was down by three points.

When I contacted her to report an apprehension of dealer who was foolishly behind a rehab clinic, I added, "Going to drop in on Kelsey, Wayne Tower in an hour?"

"Yes, oh and it's twenty-three to twenty, not twenty-two.."

Click.

As long as her office light was on, felt obligated to check in with the commissioner. Having been tooling around Tri-Corner for the last thirty minutes, I found myself automatically being drawn to police headquarters. Things had been going smoothly since the Joker's apprehension and I had no intentions of letting my hard work go to waste. It wasn't exactly the relationship that Bruce had once had with Jim Gordon, but I felt it was the closest I was going to get.

Although it still didn't keep me from sneaking into her office when she went to refill her coffee.

When she returned, I waited for her to set her mug and take a seat at her desk before clearing my throat.

Kelsey did a remarkable job concealing the jerk of surprise and was quick to glare at me as I stood in the corner of her office, "Seriously?"

I remained silent, but made a peace offering by stepping forward.

She moved a manila file towards me, "That lieutenant from the Blue Flu gang was released on bail this afternoon… something about circumstantial evidence and his being an upstanding, remodeled former felon. Complete bullshit."

Although I took the file, I opted not to waste time looking at it. Desmond Reyes was already on my list for the night, the commissioner's mentioning of it made it a priority. The Blue Flu gang had been active for nearly forty years but never made it to the top. Any time they garnered enough members, funding and ambition, they would try to rise up against their larger rivals, namely the Crips. More often than not, there would be far more Blue Flus in the morgue than in holding after their feuds.

That was until they had started in arms transportation, putting a seemingly endless supply of weapons into young hands. A police raid on one of their hideouts had lead to a dozen arrests, some unclaimed funds and drug paraphernalia but no merchandise. The lower rung guys were worthless with public legal aide would eventually crack but the two higher ups apprehended apparently had no problem walking out of jail.

"I'll pay him a visit."

She smirked as she sat back in her chair, "Why do I have a feeling that he's going to turn himself in after said visit."

"Because I can be very persuasive."

The address listed on the paperwork Kelsey had given me was Desmond's mailing address, I knew it was actually his mother's house. It would have been a safe place for him to hide, but being a good Catholic, he would have never endangered the life of his seventy-one year old mother. Instead, I found him a mile away in the Bowery, playing cards with three other gang members in a cheap apartment on the twenty-first floor.

I let Desmond win a few hands before crashing through the window.

Thankfully, there had only been one overhead light which popped the second a batarang touched it. In less than five seconds, I disabled the three others in the room with fast, powerful blows to the head and throat, letting them fall to the ground. Stepping over their moaning bodies, I followed Desmond into the adjoining room where he was feverishly loading a Glock.

Launching myself head first into his abdomen, I slammed him into the counter hard enough to break through the cracked Formica and wooden cabinets. With the gun and its clip flying out of his hands, I grabbed him by his shirt and ripped him out of the debris. I then proceeded to launch him into the refrigerator face first, the sick sound of his body thudding bringing a smirk to my lips.

Then something flashed before my eyes.

Bobo, beating him senseless, beating him into an intensive care bed…

Not allowing myself the distraction a second longer, I grabbed Desmond by the foot and proceeded to drag him over the stained linoleum, back into the living room wear his cohorts were still motionless. Instead of leaving him at their sides, I continued to the window I had entered in, my booth heels crunching on broken glass. Taking a firm hold of his sweatshirt, I lifted him up and forced him out the window. Through bloody lips, he began to plead to me, but it didn't stop me from letting him go.

I waited exactly two seconds before diving after him, firing a grapple, latching on to his leg just before the line went taught. Safe in my grasp, for the time being, Desmond Reyes had been able to watch twenty and a half floors race by. Had he not been flailing around, he could have easily reached out at touched the cold pavement.

Retracting up to the roof, I threw him down hard before crouching over him.

"I want you to listen to me… and I'm not going to repeat myself."

He was soaked in a cold sweat, lips quaking in fear and his brown irises hidden behind fully dilated pupils.

I had his undivided attention.

"You're lawyer isn't here. Your gang isn't here. It's just you and me. And thirty stories between us… and the sidewalk."

He wet himself.

"You are going directly to Gotham City Police Headquarters, on your own accord. You are going to turn yourself in. You are going to tell the detectives anything they want to know. You are going to go to prison."

"But-."

I moved in closer, my eyes hovering in front of his, "I wasn't finished." When he decided silence was best for his immediate future, I proceeded, "You are going to pay for what you've done. You can either serve time behind bars," I looked to the edge of the roof for a second before concluding, "Or you can serve it with me."

"I can't, the boss will-."

After falling to his near death a second time, Desmond had a change of heart. I followed him in the Mobile as he took a cab straight to GCPD. With Barbara accessing the security camera and forwarding it to me, I watched as he was booked and put in a separate jail cell in holding. I was trying to figure out if he was worth one point or possibly more when Cass contacted me on the link, "Sixty-two."

"That's impossible."

"No. It's improbable."

Click.

She signed off and headed home just after two in the morning, exhausted after encountering and apprehended eighty criminals. I asked her what she wanted for a prize and she said she was calling in sick to work the next day.

Fair enough.

I headed out of the city just before four, pleased to hear that Desmond had already asked to speak to the detectives on his case first thing in the morning. Barbara had joked while I drove to Bristol that it was nice to see criminals turning over a new leaf, even if it required some assistance. "Some of those higher ups wouldn't have been so easily intimidated."

"Good thing I was in debate club," I replied evenly.

After a beat, she replied, "Good night, geek."

I breezed through activity logs once I reached the Cave and opted to shower there as to remove one item from my to-do list when I woke in the morning. The walk through the tunnel seemed to take a bit longer than usual but I finally walked into my house just as my watch read five in the morning. Perhaps I would accidentally sleep in and get into work late…

With Robbie upstairs with Cass, I quickly stopped in the kitchen for a bottle of water, of which I promptly paired with a sliver of the cake we had for dessert earlier. Regrettably, we had eaten all of the delicious pumpkin pie ice cream, but Mattie and Alfred promised to have more of it for Thanksgiving. As I ate at the counter, I noticed that Cass had brought the mail in at some point in the day. We were notoriously forgetful about the simple task and often found the mailbox to capacity before remembering to empty it.

I absently sorted through bills, fliers, bank statements and junk mail before finding a plain white enveloped addressed to me in small, cursive writing. No return address but the time stamp was from an Iranian mailing service twelve days earlier. I carefully opened it before finding a white piece of paper with more of the same penmanship.

Initially I had thought that I needed only him to help me, but I have come to realize that there is nothing he can do, not in his current state. He is burdened, far beyond what I could have imagined, burdened by his poor health and family ties.

You, on the other hand, wear his mantle with a grace I never expected, a testament to your nature and your training. He would not have bestowed the cowl upon you had he not thought you worthy of upholding all it stands for, namely protecting the innocent.

I am innocent.

Protect me.

T

^V^