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...

11. Come what May: XI

Title: Come What May

Author: DC Luder

Summary: They say the calm comes before the storm. The calm is over.

Rating: T

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

Author's Note: At long last, Mr. Jason Todd.

^V^

"I don't want to do Barbara Streisand."

"Well, what one, then?" I asked.

Sitting on the couch with Terry, I was skimming through the songs for the Just Dance video game. After a few minutes of simple, hormonal bliss, my phone had chimed. As he sat up and patted down his hair, Terry had laughed that it was fate telling us to do our homework. Smiling, I had answered on the third ring, "Hello?"

"Hey, kiddo, it's me," my mother had replied, "We're going to be a little late… there's an accident on 42 that's blocking the road."

"Are you okay?" I had asked.

"Oh, we're fine. It just might be a while before they let traffic through… I gave your brother a breadstick… worse comes to worse, I'll let him have part of a calzone. Is Alfred back yet?"

"I don't think so…" I had sighed, deciding it was best to get it over and done with, "Mom, I hope it's okay, Terry came over after gymnastics practice so we could do homework."

She had paused before replying, "Homework… is that why I hear Just Dance menu music in the background." As I laughed nervously, she had added, "That's fine, if Dad asks, just tell him I said okay… How is everyone up there?"

I had glanced to Terry before answering, "Good, I think they are all downstairs still."

"Probably, well I shouldn't be more than twenty minutes… I'll let you know when I'm coming up the drive, I'm going to need all hands on deck to unload all of this food."

"Okay… thanks, Mom."

"Anytime, Kiddo," she had said before hanging up.

After setting my cell on the coffee table, I had looked to Terry again, "Mom's going to be a while… guess there's a car accident on her way back out of Bristol… but at least she's bringing food."

"She mad that I came over?" he had asked nervously.

Shaking my head, I had eased his concern, "Nah, she was fine," my gaze had turned towards the television screen, "What about Barbara Streisand?"

"I don't want to do Barbara Streisand."

"Well, what one, then?" I asked, "Forget You? You're good at that one."

"Embarrassingly so…" Terry leaned back into the couch, "What about Party Rock?"

"Oh, I will crush you," I smirked at him.

"Bring it, Wayne," he mocked yelled at me as he jumped to his feet, slapping his palms against his chest.

After selecting the song for challenge mode, I stood as well, moving to stand in front of the coffee table for more room to move. It was one of the few games that I enjoyed letting him win, namely because it encouraged him to perform the ridiculous dance moves to perfection. Back in October, I had a few friends over for the night and he had bested all of us to a roar of applause.

We kept threatening to video him and put it on the internet but any time he even saw a camera he wouldn't get up from the couch.

The second the bass came over the surround sound, we both started shaking our hips in beat with the music, ready with baited breath for the first move. With perfect timing, we faded our right arms to the right, then our left to the left. Repeating the move, I decided the only way to off set Terry would be for me to sing. Extremely off key.

As the next movement came up, I belted, "Party rock is in the house tonight, everybody just have a good time! And we're gonna make you lose your mind, everybody just have a good time!"

He started to laugh, "Stop it, you're cheating."

"Ends justify the means, Miller."

I was just one hundred points ahead of him when alarms sounded in the hallway. Terry stood still as he asked, "What's that?"

Even though I knew the answer, I replied, "I don't know…" Moving out of the sitting room and into the bedroom, Terry followed me, hopefully believing me when I said, "Dad must be cooking."

"Then we better evacu- whoa!" he exclaimed as the power gave out, leaving us in utter darkness.

"The generators should kick on in a little bit… Mom said that accident was pretty bad, maybe it knocked the power lines over or something…" I moved closer to my bedroom door, reaching out while simultaneously grabbing Terry's hand as to not leave him swimming alone in the black.

He sighed with relief, "Found my cell, here…" he turned it on, offering a bit of blue light to spread between us. I took it and tried to dial my father's cell but it said that there was no signal. Terry looked genuinely scared as I handed it back to him but I hoped that I was able to convey some sort of calmness and reassurance.

We both went still and silent upon hearing my father, "Mattie!"

Finding the knob as quickly as possible, I turned it and pulled back just as Dad was about to pound on it with the heel of his fist. I could barely make out the outline of his form until Terry moved his phone. The look on my father's face was intense, something I had never seen before save for the training videos he had recorded on the crays. His eyes were electric, not even looking the remotest bit shocked to see Terry with me.

"We have to go, now."

"What's going on, Dad?" I asked as he ushered us into the hallway.

"Run downstairs… all of the way, Mattie."

I nodded, the uneasiness washing over me causing me to grip Terry's hand harder than he had been holding mine. Before taking off, I asked, "How are you going to get downstairs with the power out?

"Don't worry about me…" he leaned forward and kissed my forehead, "Just go."

With Terry paving a pathway with his cell phone, we took off towards the stairwell. I looked back twice to see Dad moving as quickly as he could. Being tugged onward, I complied, especially upon hearing Alfred's voice echoing from down below, "Miss Mattie? Master Bruce?"

As quickly as possible, we raced down the three flights of steps, nearly crashing into Alfred and Leslie as they stood at the bottom. My heart was pounding in my chest, not from the physical activity but the uncertain fear that had taken hold of every fiber of my being. Alarms, power outages, something blocking phone reception…

The look on my father's face.

Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

Upon seeing us, Alfred asked where my father was and I instinctively looked upwards, "He's on his way down…"

On cue, my father's voice bellowed from up high, "Take them to the vault!"

"Come now, quickly children," Alfred showed no hesitation in guiding us forward, Leslie not a single step behind us. Neither uttered a word as we navigated to the study, pausing only after hearing a sharp bang and shattering glass. A shriek sounded and it took a moment to realize that it had been from me.

"Go," Alfred said calmly, "Lock yourselves in the vault, press the yellow button on the inside of the door."

"Alfred, no," Leslie reached out for his arm, "Don't."

Faint shouts sounded, and I wasn't certain how I felt that none of them sounded like my father.

"I'm afraid I must," the light casting an eerie shadow over his worried face, "Now go."

When he disappeared, I grabbed onto Leslie, "What's going on?"

"I wish I knew…" was her response. Reaching the grandfather clock, she activated the unlocking sequence and ushered us inside, her hands shaking the entire time. My mind was racing, no longer capable of maintaining a calm exterior. Leslie's voice was the only giveaway that something was amiss, lacking that warmth that allows came with every word.

Still holding on to Terry, I led him through the entrance, "There are steps ahead…"

"Where are we going, a safe room?"

I paused to look back at him, "Something like that."

Leslie was just about to follow us into the Cave when a gunshot sounded, followed by someone calling out, "No!"

Terry's breath jumped, his voice painfully scared, "Was that a gun?"

Ignoring him, I watched as Leslie's gaze turned back towards the study. Her pacifist ways had only brought violence to her life, to those she loved. But even though she didn't condone those methods, she never seemed to be one to stand idly by while they were practiced.

"Leslie?" I called out as she stepped back through the entrance.

"Go, Mattie… everything will be fine," her words were meant to be reassuring but they lacked conviction.

When the door closed behind her, I shouted her name again but there was no response. I found dark thoughts crossing my mind, wondering if that was the last time I would ever see my Family. It was then that I reverted back to my early lessons with my father over the summer. How weaknesses didn't save people, and that a hero did not feel fear, it used it as a tool, as a source of energy…

"Come on, let's go," I said, my voice growing steady. I led the way down the stairs, making sure to keep up a good pace but taking into consideration that Terry had never traversed the uneven steps. Reaching the bottom, I quickly showed him the way across the dark main floor, climbing the short stairs to the costume vault. The saving grace of the situation was that with the power being out, Terry had not seen a single thing that was in the Cave.

One less thing to worry about.

I called out Dick and Tim's names but the only signs of life in the Cave were the bats shrieking from above, their wings flapping as they prepared to score the subterranean coves for food. Telling Terry to stand by me, I let go of his hand and unlocked the costume vault, pulling hard with both hands in order to open the titanium door. To that point, we had relied on his phone as a source of light but if I allowed him to shine it on the contents of the small room…

"Can I see your phone?" I asked as he stepped in after me. Thankfully, he readily handed it over, his hand shaking visibly. I pretended to use it in order to find the yellow button on the inside panel on the door, of which activated countermeasures against anyone or thing that tried to open the vault.

In summary, anyone who grabbed the handle or door would be electrocuted and gassed at the same time. Any device that was attached to the hinges in an attempt to blow it up would be covered in epoxy and rendered useless. There was a fire control system if it was set ablaze, warming mechanisms if it was frozen and it's own ventilation system and battery power source.

Securely inside, I grabbed Terry's hand and led him towards the back of the vault, guiding him to sit on the bench along the far wall. Once I was beside him, I tried to think that five minutes earlier we had been sitting on the couch fighting over what song to dance to. I thought about kissing him, holding his hand on the ride home, beating him at Words during study hall.

Anything to get the look of my father's face out of my mind, the echo of the gunshot out of my ears.

Minutes later, the hum of electricity sounded, quickly followed by the rush of air through the vents and then finally, the flicker of the lights coming back to life.

Oh, no.

"Mattie…" Terry's voice was barely a whisper. His eyes were wide, no longer out of fear but in awe.

"Yeah?"

"Is there… a reason your dad has a panic room full of Batman stuff?"

I exhaled slowly before starting with, "Yes… there is a reason."

^V^

I had promised Master Bruce's parents that I would always stand by his side, no matter what.

Even though they had not lived to see the greatness he had achieved and the tragedies he had endured, I had kept my vow. I had supported him, healed him, consoled him and protected him as best I could. Difficult as it may have been at times, my actions had always been reflective of my bond, to first and foremost do right by their only child. A man grown, capable of tending to his own troubles, I had held fast to my words, every pain he endured felt tenfold on my soul.

Learning of pain he had endured years earlier without my ever knowing had caused an invisible blade to strike deep into my chest.

We had nearly lost Master Nathan in birth, his arrival to the world coming two months premature. The boy had spent his first eight weeks of life in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, doctors and nurses trying to prepare his fragile body for life outside of the hospital. His second born child and first biological son, I had bore witness to Master Bruce reaching new emotional lows. He had been able to maintain his composure around members of the Family, but often had let the façade falter in my presence.

At the time, I had assumed it had been simply the fear of losing the child he had grown to love without ever knowing.

Having heard Master Bruce utter the fact that he had already suffered a similar event just over a decade prior to Master Nathan's birth, it was apparent that he very well may have also relived his own piece of personal hell, magnified infinitely.

"Like I said," his tone was painful, "Selina wants an answer she doesn't want to hear."

Although it took a moment to recover, I found my voice, "It is not up to you to decide what she desires to know, sir… but what she deserves to know."

I watched as he closed his eyes, nostrils flaring slightly as he forced air through them slowly. While contemplated, I studied the tired features of his face, the morning light highlighting every line, every mark and every gray hair on his head, all having resulted from some heartache. Some pain I had been unable to spare him.

A long, silent moment passed before he spoke, "She deserves better."

Moving to stand before him, I waited until Master Bruce looked up at me, then said, "Then give her better, sir."

He nodded, his eyes fixing themselves to the window once more.

Knowing he was most capable of finding resolutions when he was alone with his thoughts, I left Master Bruce for the remainder of the morning. Given Ms. Talia's penchant for barely touching her meals, I decided that not providing a midday lunch was worth allowing Master Bruce to regroup without interruption. As long as all went according to plan, Master Tim would have her relocated to the Watchtower by day's end. Her absence would allow for whatever healing was needed to commence, in addition to removing one less burden on my troubled charge's mind.

Having called Master Dick earlier in the day to arrange for the children to be brought home from school, I was allowed a certain degree of freedom in the afternoon. Once the daily tasks within the Manor had been tended to, I was able to tackle a few items of importance in the Cave. The laboratory, medical bay and training area were all overdue for a thorough scrubbing. With the aide of Nolvasan disinfectant solution, dry mops and a determination to dominate the seemingly endless battle with the bats above, I managed to have the sectors spotless by noon.

It was as I was taking an overdue inventory of supplies that I heard the elevator doors open, revealing Master Bruce slowly walking across the cavern floor. He seemingly ignored me as he fought his way up the small set of stairs to the computer bay, sighing once he took his seat before the control panel. Rather than immediately go to him, I decided to continue with my task, making a list of necessary orders for Lactated Ringer's solution IV bags, sterile chemical filter paper and fluorescent latent print powder.

Before joining him on the raised tier, I studied from afar as he alternated between numerous windows on the display. Naturally, the surveillance footage of Talia was in the upper right hand corner, with news feeds covering the previous night's escapades partially covered by a lengthy document. Since learning of Master Jason's remains being removed without his knowing, he had seemed desperate to try and pinpoint the circumstances, even beyond what Ms. Talia had confessed to.

As my first footfall sounded on the metal step, there was a momentary pause in the clattering of keys from above. He resumed his work, although I noticed he made the effort to rearrange the items on the screen as quickly as possible. Ignoring the act, I cleared my throat before offering, "Would you care for lunch, Master Bruce?"

He kept his focus on his work, replying with a curt, "No."

"Very good, sir… Master Dick will pick the children up from school as I plan to retrieve Dr. Thompkins at a somewhat decent hour."

"That's fine," he noted, his mind entirely preoccupied with his work.

"And I believe Master Tim will be returning this afternoon to tend to some vigilante work."

He continued to try to ignore my words, bringing up a satellite tracking program, little white and blue dots traveling slowly over a large map of the world.

While he tried to hack into the orbiting devices, I bid him farewell and left him alone once more. When he his mind was in a state of unrest, it was difficult for him to focus on his work. The time he had spent alone, debating his options and preparing to face his wife once more, it seemed as if he had reached a solution, albeit an untested one. Mental harmony achieved, he was more than capable of monitoring Ms. Talia, hacking into government satellite footage and ignoring my offers.

With a sigh of relief, I rode the elevator to the main floor, my watch putting the time to be just after two. Even with the haggard hour commute into the city, I would still have arrived too early at the Free Clinic. The ritual of driving her in and out of Gotham each day had been instilled as to keep her from riding the overcrowded trains and battle with numerous transfers. Hindsight, it also provided us with two uninterrupted hours alone together, where we were able to freely voice our thoughts and share our concerns.

Something we had lost in leaving Africa behind…

In order to waste a bit of time before departing, I rotated the wash, finished tidying up on the third floor and put fresh linens in all three of the bedrooms. From there, I made my way to my quarters briefly, freshening up and changing into a clean shirt and sweater. Retrieving my coat, leather gloves and flat cap, I then proceeded to the ground floor, nearly making it to the service entrance when the house phone rang.

Removing my gloves, I answered, "Wayne residence."

"Alfred, it's Lucius."

"Ah, how are we fairing, Mr. Fox?"

"Not great…" he sighed before asking, "Was Bruce planning on coming in at all today?"

Having spent a lifetime forging excuses from thin air, I responded, "I am afraid not, Mr. Fox. After the duress he endured last week, he is, in a sense, indisposed."

"Is he all right?"

I reassured him, "Nothing that rest won't mend. His physician has asked that he endure at least another day in bed in order to recuperate."

"Damnit… we were supposed to spend this afternoon preparing for tomorrow's foundation meeting… recount last week's activities… Well, if he is up to it, have him give me a call later. I'll see what he wants to add to what we already have."

"Will do, Mr. Fox."

"Thanks, Alfred… and take care of him."

"As always, sir," I replied before hanging the telephone up on the wall mounted cradle.

Backtracking to the study, I returned to the Cave in order to deliver the message. However, I paused halfway down the stairs upon seeing that Master Bruce and Master Tim were discussing most pertinent of matters. Deciding that Mr. Fox's desire to have his call returned could wait, I navigated back up the study and into the corridor. Rather than call ahead to inform Leslie I was en route, I decided to surprise her, in more than one sense.

The florist in Bristol charged outrageous fees, but the cost justified the arrangements she was bale to procure. I selected a wintry bouquet of white Gerber daisies, snow colored roses and peonies nestled in geranium leaves. The aroma of the flowers kept me company for the duration of the ride, as did horn honks from fellow motorists and the first Christmas songs of the season emerging on the radio.

When I made it into the East End, the streets were easier to travel down as traffic grew sparse and buses replaced speeding taxi cabs. Parking in the rear of the Free Clinic, I chose to walk around to the front of the building in order to enter through the lobby. AS expected, the benches were filled with waiting patients, the small play area crowded with tired children. I offered warm smiles to all, even tipping my hat to a particularly adorable four year old girl, her dark hair in tightly braided pigtails.

Reaching the front desk, I recognized the triage nurse to be Michael, a former med student that had switched careers after deciding that compassionate care was his calling and not surgical residency. He had been with Leslie since before the earthquake that had struck down the city of Gotham so many years earlier. His unbeatable bedside manner and sincere desire to help others had made him an instant asset to the Free Clinic.

He greeted me with a smirk, "Nice flowers, Alfred, you shouldn't have."

I smirked, "Dare I ask if she is available?"

"Actually," he scanned the computer before him screen briefly, "She's just wrapping up a suture removal… come on back," he added before unlocking the entrance into the actual clinic. Regrettably, the struggling neighborhood had required additional safety measures to be added over the years in order to protect not only the pharmacy and supplies, but the patients themselves. So many ended up on Leslie's gurneys as a result of gang affiliated violence that she finally had to put up the barrier to keep the peace.

Thanking Michael, I made my way towards her office, at the very least hoping to set the flowers up in a vase before her arrival. As it happened, I nearly ran into her as she exited an exam room, her attention on the chart in her hands and mine on the flowers in my grasp. Even still, she looked up and smiled, "What are you doing here?"

"Wishful thinking, my dear," I nodded slightly.

"Nearly done, I promise… here, let me drop this off out front, I'll meet you in my office."

I had enough time to fetch a vase from the break room, wash it and fill it with fresh water as well as trim the stems of the flowers and arrange them before she made an appearance. She shut the door behind her before yawning softly, "Sorry, figured I would take care of my last appointment of the day first. Dreaded vaccines for a very sad Sophia."

"No doubt she left smiling," I offered, resisting the urge to tidy her desk as she shed her white coat and stethoscope.

After hanging them on the hook secured to the back of her office door, Leslie approached her desk, bowed and inhaled the scent of the sweet flowers. Standing upright, she asked, "What's the occasion?"

"I must confess… it is a bribe of sorts."

"To go home early."

I acted surprised and responded with, "Madam, I haven't the foggiest-."

Leslie cut me off, wagging her finger in my direction, "Don't even start with your foggiest, old man." Shaking her head, Leslie looked over her cluttered desk before glancing back up at me, "I'll make you a deal. Let me finish charts from today, then we can go."

"Is there anything I can assist you in?"

"Yes… go break the news to Michael that I'm leaving early."

She managed to wrap up her notes and prepare charts to be filed by quarter after four. Before leaving, she agreed to see one last patient for the day, a young man who had dislocated his shoulder after being shoved down the stairs by his older brother. I had stood outside in the hallway with the offensive sibling while Leslie and her team put the poor brother back together. The screams of pain subsided as narcotics took effect, but the sound of bone being forced back into socket still traveled through the partially ajar door.

It caused the teenaged boy at my side to visibly flinch and audibly gasp in shared pain.

"There, there, lad," I offered, "At least there will be the immobilization period for his arm before he can exact revenge."

Finally leaving the Free Clinic, we regrettably wove our way directly into afternoon traffic. Aiming my sights on the nearest parkway, I offered my ears as she rehashed her day. I was pleased to hear it hadn't been too trying or difficult, a day without great tragedies that drained her of her energy and life. Finally reaching St. James and crossing over the Westward Bridge, she asked, "How is everyone?"

I spent the remainder of the trip replaying the day's events, sparing her no detail of the emotional hold that had seized our eldest. She listened intently, keeping her questions limited and brief. In summation, I also informed her that Master Bruce knew the manner in which he had to make it up to his wife, but was simply biding time until her return from the Preserve in order to put it into practice.

She did not seem surprised when I told her of his transgressions, of his lies regarding Ms. Talia's former role in his life along with the child they had nearly brought into the world.

What had her worried was that he had kept it from us, from the entire Family, for so long.

Reaching the wrought iron gates, I depressed the remote control that allowed us to enter without being rained upon by rubber bullets and fast drying epoxy. As I guided the Lincoln up the dark driveway, she finally said, "How is he coping… with this coming to light?"

"Well enough, I suppose… He seemed quite emotional this morning, but after a few hours alone, he seemed to be in a better place this afternoon."

"I hope so…" she sighed as we pulled up behind the garage.

Stepping into the great house, I found a note from Ms. Selina on the counter, declaring that she was picking up dinner with Master Nathan. In all of the turmoil of the day, I had planned on a simple meal of baked ziti but she had taken even the meager responsibility off of my plate. I waited for Leslie to join me in the kitchen, smirking to see she had removed her sneakers in order to walk in sock clad feet.

We barely made it into the corridor when alarms sounded, echoing loudly and giving my heart reason to skip a few beats. I wanted to blame the calamity on my not entering the security code on the panel just inside the door, but I had instinctively tended to it first thing. When the lights gave out a moment later, I realized that my old mind was not to blame at all.

"Alfred…" she gasped loudly, reaching out for my arm.

I latched onto it, quickly guiding her towards the stairwell, "Quickly, Leslie…" Not a moment later, we were at the base of the great steps, the patter of footfalls approaching in the darkness along with a faint glow. I called out, "Master Bruce? Miss Mattie!"

Miss Mattie appeared a moment later, surprisingly on the arm of her teenaged beau. I did my best to hide the fear in my voice, "Where is your father?"

In the faint light, I watched as she looked back up the stairs, "He's on his way down…"

Suddenly, Master Bruce's voice boomed nearly as loud as the alarms had, "Take them to the vault!"

As a precautionary measure, the vault was outfitted with countermeasures to keep not only the inanimate objects safe from any threat, but it could also house and shelter up to ten adults comfortably, fifteen with reduced elbow room. In the event of an emergency, it was the safest place on the property, especially for children who had no means of defending themselves. And with the power not coming back on and the generators malfunctioning, it certainly qualified as an emergency.

Not waiting for his arrival, I took Miss Mattie and Master Terry away from the stairs and down the hall, blindly making our way towards the study. Without warning, an explosion ripped through the dark air, followed by the music of shattering glass that even my aged ears were capable of hearing. The small group before me froze in their tracks, Miss Mattie allowing a sharp cry escape from her lips.

I had promised his parents to watch over him…

As calmly as possible, I spoke, "Go. Lock yourselves in the vault, press the yellow button on the inside of the door."

"Alfred, no," Leslie reached out for my arm, gripping it tightly, "Don't."

Faint shouts sounded in the distance, the crash of something heavy and wooden.

I had promised this parents…

"I'm afraid I must… Now go."

As quickly as my feet would allow, I raced back towards the rear of the house. The sound seemed to have originated from the terrace doors, a fairly easy access point if the security system was compromised with complete electrical failure. On my way to do what I had vowed to, I found the only useful means of defense was a European broadsword from the 1800's. Smashing the display case, I latched onto the heavy iron blade and muttered an apology to the curator that had placed it so delicately in a bed of silks.

Granted with a relatively bright moon, the light casting into the open sitting area offered some illumination. The white light reflected off of the countless shards of glass, even through the smoky haze. I made out silhouettes moving forward and back, some falling to the ground and remaining motionless. As the smoke cleared, I caught a glimpse of Master Nathan's canine companion with his massive jaws securely ripping at the upper arm of some poor sap. Nearby, I spotted Master Bruce, a vicious sneer on his face as he drove his palm into the throat of his dark garbed assailant, sending the man flying backwards.

The next figure lurched at him, attempting to strike at his left leg but was met swiftly with Master Bruce's elbow in a powerful temple strike, followed by a solid hit from his fist to the man's exposed ear. The black garbed man tried to recover but by the time he swung back around at Master Bruce but it was too late. My charge had already prepared for the coming blow and ducked, driving a broad shoulder into the man's abdomen, heaving him into the air and headfirst into the wall.

One of the casualties rose to his feet, willing to take advantage of Master Bruce's divided attention. I stepped forward and swung hard, the dull blade hitting him square in the side of the head and sending him limply back to the ground.

Master Bruce looked to me suddenly, seeming to be struggling for his breath. There were six men on the ground writhing, five of which were his to claim. I was about to tell him that he still had the innate ability to cause as much harm to as many evil doers in a timely manner when I heard a boot crunching on glass.

Time slowed as I spun my head around, ready with the blade, if necessary.

In the shattered remains of the French doors stood nearly a dozen men, dressed in the same dark clothing as their indisposed colleagues. Among them was a man whose uniform was slightly different. Where their masks were black, his was stark red.

Where they were charging towards Master Bruce, he set his sights on me, along with the aim of a SIG Sauer.

Before he pulled the trigger, I heard Master Bruce scream, "Noooo!"

^V^

While Alfred was being gunned down in front of me, I was being charged at by five men, each of whom were half my age and had their whole, sinister lives ahead of them.

Having made it down three flights of stairs, my body had already started to rebel long before I had encountered the group invading my home. My pulse had been throbbing nearly as loudly as the pain in my left leg. With Alfred and Leslie securing Mattie and Terry, I had one less worry clouding over my mind. I had called out for Ace, having no idea where the big sable dog was. Hearing him before seeing his outline loping down the corridor appeared, I had been somewhat relieved when he immediately looked up to me, ready.

"Good boy," I had been panting louder than he had.

Every step after the stairs had been a struggle, but I had still moved as quickly as possible to the rear of the house. The dog had been right at my side, the tags of his collar jingling but the sound of his padded feet hitting the carpet barely audible.

Before the system had gone offline, the last sensors tripped had been located on the rear terrace. Making my way to the back of the Manor, I had to fight back memories of countless Family dinners and birthday parties. We had been just shy of ten yards from the rear sitting area when an explosion had ripped apart the hand carved French doors, raining down glass and shards of wood. The same doors Mattie and Nathan had decorated with decals for nearly every holiday…

With Dick already suited up and off for solo patrols and Tim and Cassandra essentially trapped on the Watchtower without an activated teleporter to return to, my only back up had been Ace. Furthermore, I had to convince myself that my leg had no longer been crippled, my brain no longer addled. That I had been capable of defending my home, my Family.

Six men dressed in black from head to toe had stormed in, unarmed because there had been no need for weapons. It had been easy to identify them as belonging to Ra's al Ghul, their uncanny stealth, disciplined movements and utter silent communication standing out. Having fought his foot soldiers for two decades, I had been well aware of what their training regimens included, and what they had not.

Given the age of their leader and his penchant for tradition, they had all been required to master various ancient combat styles, ranging from Wudang Kung Fu to Hapkido. Centuries of combat training had resulted in the League of Assassins being one of the most formidable unknown forces of the world. They had always struck with deadly force and deadlier stealth, leaving behind no trail to follow, just victims.

They had been masters of their craft.

I had been the master of mine.

Once upon a time…

Ace had launched himself at the first unsuspecting target, ripping him down to the ground with angry growls and ninety-three pounds of powerful German Shepherd muscle. I had used the distraction to my advantage, moving through the smoke and taking out the nearest subject with a direct blow to the back of the head. Although mentally it had been easy to ascertain which strike to deliver and when, it had been difficult to get my body to perform the tasks. Ace barked loudly, yelped then resumed growling, drawing a quiet curse from the being in his grasp. I tried to locate him in the haze but was unable to.

Without the aide of weaponry, it still should have been relatively simple to take them out systematically, especially with the smoke filled air acting as cover. And yet every hit I delivered had caused a shock to ride up my arm, every ounce of energy I had used was not replenished with the following drag of oxygen. There had only been six figures in the dimly lit room but it had taken my all to send five of them to the ground.

A sick sound of metal on bone had caused me to spin about, just in time to see the sixth man fall in a heap with Alfred lowering a black iron broadsword.

We had looked to one another in the moment before the next wave had arrived, ten men with black masks, one with red…

He was taller and broader than his compatriots, standing with an unnerving calmness as he raised a black plated semi-automatic handgun and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

"Noooo!" I screamed as Alfred stumbled two steps back before falling to the ground.

When I bolted towards him, I was intercepted by the next group of men, determined that I not advance a single step. Unable to go to his side, I fought back fiercely and without remorse, digging at eyes, crunching teeth, snapping bones in ways that would never heal. Ace flashed by in the corner of my eye but when the man in red raised his weapon at the dog, I called out, "Hier!"

Thankfully, when the second bullet fired, Ace was out of the way and racing back to me. In the mist of my brawling, I pointed to the corridor and yelled at him, "Voraus!" He hesitated until I called out again, then reluctantly retreated down the hall. As much of an asset as he was in a fight, there was no sense in having my son's dog senselessly killed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the man in the red mask casually walking across the atrium. Although foolish, I allowed my attention to focus on him momentarily as he crouched beside Alfred's still form, reaching out a gloved hand in order to check for a pulse. A vicious hit to my left kidney reminded me that I had to keep my focus elsewhere.

The red masked man stood upright, wiped his glove on the front of his dark jacket before looking in my direction. He stepped over Alfred's outstretched arm as if it had been nothing more than a crack in the sidewalk. I tried to ignore his leisurely advance, anything to keep the painful jabs and blows at bay.

Alfred…

Rage bubbled up inside me, fueling me to continue taking down the men surrounding me with unrelenting blows to the face, chest and head. The next wave was ready when those before them fell, receiving them same strikes but not seeming to be as affected by my efforts. It was as my chest grew tight and my breaths came in fiery pants that my mind rationalized that I was in no condition to fight one man let alone a dozen members of the League of Assassins.

Still, Alfred is too still…

They started getting in lucky hits, seeming to know where my weakest points were. A roundhouse to the back of my head drove me forward into another's heel kick to my knee. Growling, I desperately recovered, latching on to the next limb that came in my direction and twisting it until it snapped. Before I was able to let him go to move on to the next one, the man in the red mask whistled lowly.

I've already watched one father die…

At once, the men stepped away, bowing their heads in silence. Rather than proceeding to toss me around like schoolyard bullies, they began to check on their fallen comrades, helping them to their feet. Through it all, no shouts, no words, no yelps of pain, not even a whisper.

It took what was left of my self-control to keep from crying out in agony.

No longer able to tolerate the inferno in my chest and the stabbing pain in my leg, I found myself taking a few unsteady steps backwards, barely regaining my balance as he approached me. Finally, I spoke, my voice lacking any form of intimidation, "What do you want?"

Tilting his head to the left, he sighed quietly, the epitome of calm.

Without warning, he embedded the heel of his hand directly into my sternum with enough force to knock me off of my feet. Colliding with the wall first, I then landed on the floor, unable to inhale or exhale. As the initial shock of the blow dissolved, he strode towards me, continuing to appraise me silently. Before I could roll out of the way or force my arms to rise and counter the oncoming blow, he stomped down on my left knee with lightning speed and comparable force.

Coincidentally enough, it brought air back into my lungs, only to have it exhaled in a painful cry.

Rising to my hands and knees, I tried to regain control of my body but his reinforced toe slammed me hard in the left temple, sending my world spinning. Falling flat on the carpet, my first thought was not that every fiber of my being was in pain, but that Alfred was in my direct line of sight. A pool of blood reflected in the moonlight, his form completely motionless.

Alfred…

My focus was brought back to the man in the red mask when he finally made a sound other than the whistle he had used to call off his men. "Bruce… you look terrible…" he said, his rough baritone muffled by the mask covering his lips.

There was a soft sound on the other side of the room, barely detectable over the crunching of my ribs and the thunderous pulse at my temples. Alfred's fingernail tapping on the broadsword that lay beside him.

Alive, he was alive…

The man in the red mask proceeded to glance around the room, ascertaining the extent of the damage I had brought upon his men, "I wasn't expecting such a fight from you. I have to admit… it is good to see you have a little life left in those crippled bones of yours."

Morse code.

Alive. Shot. Under collar bone….

He followed my gaze and sighed, "Poor old Alfred… always willing to serve… no matter what the cost." After he crouched beside me, I looked up to see the black lenses covering his eyes showing small, painful reflections of my face, "Don't blame yourself… you certainly seemed willing to fight to protect him… the ones you love… the ones you care about so much…"

Although he went through the motion of unmasking himself, it was unnecessary. I knew from the second he passed through the doorway what face was hidden behind the blood colored Lycra. The dark blue-green eyes that had always yielded too much mischief. Chaotic auburn hair that I had forced him to dye black as to not have him stand out…

"Which is funny, since you didn't do a damn thing to save me," Jason Todd, seventeen years after I had buried him, stared down at me with a scowl, "Not a damn thing."

With blood on my palate and my lungs refusing to cooperate, I still managed to growl his name, "Jason."

"Ah, you remember me… good," he smirked for a moment before adding, "That makes this all worth the trouble, then."

"Makes what worth it?" I fought to ask.

His eyes narrowed before he answered, "Taking everything away from you. Making your life the hell it was meant to be. I can check Alfred off of the list…"

I locked my jaw briefly, collecting blood and saliva before spitting it directly in his face.

Jason laughed as he wiped it way from his cheek, "That's a shame," he rose to his feet, "A real shame…"

With equal speed and force, Jason proceeded to repeatedly slam the toe of his boot into my abdomen, his smile growing with every blow. After an eternity of agony, he ceased his assault, bending at the waist in order to stare down at me as I coughed and gasped. He was about to threaten me further when he paused, turning to face the corridor with a faint look of surprise on his face. I did my best to move my head around, uncertain as to whether or not the image of Leslie approaching was real or a hallucination.

"Leave him alone!" she shouted as two men seized her by the arms.

As one backhanded her hard enough to send her to the carpet, Jason snapped, "No!" He stormed towards them, grabbing the man that had struck her down. The other had instinctively stepped back, bowing his head. Jason slammed his brow into the masked man's nose, the crunch sounding loud enough for me to hear.

"We need her, you fool!" Jason shoved the insubordinate away.

"My apologies, sire…" the man's words were painful and wet.

"Your apologies are worthless…" Jason growled lowly as he set his sights on Leslie. She had crawled over to Alfred, already pressing her palms into the bleeding wound below his collarbone. Jason studied her briefly before grabbing her upper arm, dragging her back to her feet. She tried to protest, but Jason was twice her size, overpowering her without effort.

Leslie stumbled to her knees in front of me, her eyes were glassy with emotion but her face was miraculously calm. As she stared down at me, I found myself wondering if Mattie and Terry had made it to the vault, and that her hands were warm and sticky with Alfred's blood. I barely heard her as she whispered, "I'm here… everything's going to be all right."

My vision began to blur over, my hearing faded and wave after wave of lightheadedness washed over me.

My last conscious thought was, No… not now…

^V^

After seventeen years, seven days had raced by in a heartbeat.

Prior to leaving for the United States a week earlier, Ra's had stood by while I packed up in the armory. Although he had spent the better part of the summer finalizing his plans and picking apart the timing and the details, essentially nothing had changed in the weeks leading into November. The highly publicized family efforts the week of Thanksgiving had fallen perfectly into line, distracting the targets and opening the window of opportunity for my team and I to walk right through.

In the hours leading up to our departure, Ra's had hunted me down, interrupting as I had been quietly packing my belongings and mentally preparing myself for the trek. Body armor I had worn hundreds of times, titanium escrima sticks that bore scratches from a decade of use along with back up semi-automatics, blades sharp enough to peel the epidermis away from someone's skin and my most prized possession…

"We've been over this a thousand times," I had sighed while disassembling my SIG Sauer.

He had growled, "And for your benefit, we will go over it again. There can be no mistakes, not at this point."

Swallowing my pride, I had nodded, "I'm sorry. Continue."

While I had proceeded to brush out the barrel, Ra's had carried on, "Talia has already entered the city limits… with the Detective and his followers preoccupied with charitable efforts, it will be relatively easy for her to install the interference mechanisms on the generators and security lines. She will wait until the opportune moment to make herself known… And then you will wait for her sign before acting. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sire."

He had paused before saying, "From there, you will apprehend the Detective… alive."

A scowl had seized hold of my lips as I replied, "Yes, sire."

"If the doctor is on the grounds at the time you seize him, you will also take her into custody. It will befit us to have her care for him during travel."

Nodding, I had tried to focus on inspecting the magazine chamber but my thoughts had drifted back to the last time I had seen Leslie Thompkins. If my memory had served me correctly, it was in the sitting room with Alfred, sharing tea on a Sunday afternoon. Not two weeks before I had left for Iraq to hunt down my mother…

Before going down to train in the Cave, I had popped my head in, begging lemon cakes from them…

"Can I have two?"

"One for now… and… one for later, Master Jason…"

A lifetime ago.

Ra's had brought me back to the present with, "The two most powerful warriors are patience and time."

I had looked to him, smirked and asked, "Aristotle?"

He had sighed, "Tolstoy."

"Russian Ghandi, you mean," I had returned my focus to the gun barrel in my hand.

"Your jesting towards the great minds suggests jealousy," Ra's had replied, "Perhaps one day you will heed their words instead of mock them."

Using a cloth to remove debris and bits of carbon from the interior of the magazine, I had nodded, holding my tongue. My mouth had never learned to keep itself in check, often saying the wrong thing at the equally wrong moment. As highly as Ra's held the great thinkers, I had no time for his historical lectures and symbolic references. I had always preferred those who acted rather than shared their intentions to.

William the Conquerer, born a bastard but raised the London Tower with a crown on his head.

Alexander, who had dominated half of the known world before he turned thirty.

Atilla, seizing hold of the Roman Empire with a smile on his face.

Ra's had always pointed out that my idols had met untimely demises and that following in their footsteps would also take me to their fates. In return, I had always countered that the purpose of studying history was to learn from the mistakes of others. He had always smirked at such wise yet blatantly brash remarks. There were times that my arrogance had acted in my favor, fortunately more so than the times that it had not.

We had worked alongside one another for over a decade, but there was no forgetting the first tumultuous years I had spent learning to live under his rule. I had quickly learned that although he was the nemesis of my former mentor, they lived by very similar morals, Ra's merely taking things to an extreme that Bruce had never been brave enough to. A rocky start would have been an understatement. Floggings, deprivation tanks, isolation cells, hard labor with no food or water or rest for twenty-four hours… and that was simply for talking back or not following orders.

Ra's had always made his lessons as clear as crystal: obey or pay.

But with the pain, there had been insurmountable gain. I had trained with the world's finest in combat, weaponry and sharp shooting. The skills I had learned as a boy had been a foundation for all that I had learned under Ra's and the League. Starting at the age of eighteen, I had successfully completed every mission I had been assigned to. By twenty-one, I was leading teams into the field as well as handling single-man operations. I had defeated every single one of Ra's' bodyguards in unarmed combat by twenty-three, earning the right to be in his presence without them.

My life belonged to Ra's, something I would never forget, nor take for granted. He had given me wealth, knowledge and power, not to mention his loyalty and support.

Bruce had let me die.

Ra's had given me life.

And after months of planning, years of waiting, the time had come.

To return.

For nearly two decades, I had waited. When I had felt that I had earned to right to make proposals to Ra's, the top of my list had been to return to my former home in order to punish my former mentor. After a moment of pondering, Ra's had asked why.

"He left me for dead… a child… he should have done something!" I had growled.

Nodding, Ra's had replied, "He is but one man. One man alone can not save all that he loves… Of which is a recurring theme in the Detective's life. It is not as a savior, but a life as a martyr. Whether he sacrifices himself or others."

The next time I had brought the subject up to Ra's, I had approached it with a clearer mind. I had been twenty-five, fresh from a string of successful treks to Africa to secure bases of operation and to take down a destructive ban of rebels that had been burning bountiful fields purposelessly. Breeching the matter, I had pointed out that Bruce had let my killer live, his punishment being a mere chemically induced coma.

"That monster is going to spend the rest of his days in comfort when he should be in agony every waking second."

"Then go to America… kill the Joker."

"That's not the point, Ra's," I had snapped back.

"The point is that you loathe the Detective because he did not do something that is not his nature to do," Ra's had glared at me from over his chess board, "Am I wrong?"

It had taken another six years to bring it up again.

With the Joker escaping Arkham Asylum and bringing the city of Gotham to its knees, I had been compelled to monitor ever detail I could get my hands on. I had studied every word to appear on screen, every video clip, every sound bite. The ever-vigilant Batman had let hundreds die before taking him down at the end of two months of terror.

Interestingly enough, the same night the Joker was taken back into custody, Bruce Wayne was admitted to Mercy General Hospital, a victim of a mugging turned deadly.

I had suspected that he had long since handed over the cowl to one of his stooges, especially when Bruce Wayne had knee replacements, starting showing up to board meetings regularly and made time for his children. Ra's had always discouraged my following those in my former life so closely. but I had been unable to forgive let alone forget. And despite the years and miles that had separated us, it had been easy to figure out that a mere mugging hadn't put Bruce in the ICU. The circumstances were entirely hypothetical, but I was certain that they revolved around Bruce putting the cowl back on one last time.

Putting the barrel back into the slide of the gun, I had looked to Ra's and said, "The only words I need to heed are yours."

He had smirked, turned to leave the armory as he reminded me, "Alive, Jason. I need him alive."

Before answering Ra's, I had pushed the down onto the front of the gun's frame rail, pulling back and letting the slide release itself, "Alive it is."

Obey or pay.

Entering the United States had been far easier than expected. We had landed in Metropolis, their international airport welcoming us with wide arms and warm smiles. From there, we had secured housing and transportation up the coast, keeping a safe and unsuspecting distance from Gotham. As instructed, we waited for word form Talia before proceeding a single inch closer to our target. Finally on late Wednesday evening, her digital code appeared on my mobile device, bringing a smirk to my lips.

I had answered in a low tone, "Ready?"

"Hardly," she had responded, "I have broken into the Cave three times… he hasn't been there. No one has. It seems as if their daytime activities are altering those after dark."

Sighing, I had then responded, "Go into the house, then."

"No. Father preferred it was done this way," she had reminded me, "I've intruded upon him in the Cave before, doing so in his residence would not be welcome."

"Fair enough," I had paused before asking, "Have you seen him?"

"Yes… in the city… this afternoon actually," she had paused before re-hashing her venture into the East End, studying him and the others while pretending to look through donated clothing and winter attire. I had instinctively asked her if they had recognized her and Talia had defended herself, "No. I didn't get that close… and there were hundreds of people in the gymnasium… I only saw him for a moment, the door to a small office was ajar and passing by I caught a glimpse…"

After swallowing hard, I had said, "Don't call back until you catch more than a glimpse of him."

"Ordering me around, are you?" she had asked.

"Damn straight, I am," I had closed the connection with a smirk. It had been just shy of seven months since I had last set eyes upon Talia, one of the longest stretches that I had been able to recall. It had been her idea to step aside from the actual plan making and to cast me in a negative light upon reuniting with Bruce and the others. Granted, the scars that laced her body from a lifetime spent under father's rule and acting as his pawn had certainly been joined by a number that bore my signature…

But it wasn't as if she hadn't returned the gesture.

The scar on her face had been countered by Talia slicing off my left pinkie. Her knotted ribs had been payback from her knocking two molars loose from my jaw. The burns on her right side mirrored the red, bubbly skin that seared a good portion of my back. Before starting to work with the actual League members, I had first endured the tests from one of their brightest stars… the daughter of the Demon.

We had readily inflicted harm on one another for years, but that was only because the apologies made it worthwhile. In reality, the more we had harmed one another, the we desired one another. Ra's had initially disapproved and I had readily been willing to back off but Talia refused to do the same. She had claimed that she never had been able to have what she wanted in life and that all had taken away from her without her consent. All she had been able to claim as her own was her child, and realistically speaking the boy belonged to Ra's from the day he was born…

Her next call had come the following Monday. I had been in the midst of meditating, putting my mind through various internal mazes. The soft chirping had been a welcome distraction, especially after I had picked up and she had said, "Now."

Now meant that the broad range of variables we had been waiting for had come into play.

They were relocating her, whether it was to the Watchtower of Clocktower or even the Fortress of Solitude, I could have cared less. Given what the Family had endured over the course of the year, there had only been a minute amount of time that Talia's presence would have been allowed before safety concerns rose too high. My personal predictions revolved around Bruce wanting to keep Talia close by while the others wanted her as far away as possible.

Dirty little blue-eyed, black-haired secrets and all…

Now indicated that Bruce was alone, or as close as he would ever be in the time span allowed. Desirably, his protégés would be out of the equation, escorting Talia to her new location or readying themselves for their precious patrols. The children had been of little consequence, the wife had posed no threat, and as trusty as Alfred had always been with a rifle, I would have been able to sink a bullet into him faster then he would been able to raise his Winchester.

Now allowed my team and I to board helicopters and fly to just outside of the monitored property and remote activate the devices Talia had installed at the beginning of the week. Equipment that would render the security system useless, prevent the generators from kicking on and most importantly, bathe the Manor in darkness. The Cave entrances would be sealed, those in the house confined and no communication in or out.

Now meant that we had to move quickly after cutting the power, racing across the back lawn and towards the rear terrace of the house. That after planting and activating explosive charges, that the first wave of men had to race in and face whatever was waiting for them without hesitation.

Interestingly enough, it had been Bruce.

Even through the smoke and chaos, I was still able to see him, far more intensely than that first glimpse Talia had spoken of days earlier. The medical reports I had memorized and the news footage of him from the previous week's charity efforts had been unable to prepare me for the real thing. The thin gray hair, the stiff left leg, the frightened look in his icy blue eyes. The painful sound of his voice calling out when I sent Alfred to the ground with the squeeze of a finger.

The practically nonexistent effort I had to use to take him down.

Although I had promised Ra's that I wouldn't, I found myself letting old wounds open, my emotions getting the best of me. Words came out of my mouth that I had no intention of uttering, the force I used was excessive on its own accord. Thankfully, Leslie Thompkins surprise appearance had forced me to regain my composure. After reprimanding Tyros for manhandling her, I had done practically the same, dragging her by the arm to Bruce's side.

A gesture I instantly realized to be ironic when Bruce started to convulse.

Despite the fact that one of my men announced that the helicopters were two minutes out, all I could hear was the hitched breathing at my feet and Leslie's soft, soothing words. Many of my team were limping their way out of the Manor to prepare to signal to the pilots, but I could only focus on the frail, shell of the man I once knew twitching uncontrollably before me. The documents, the reports and even the side research I had completed became meaningless in that moment.

Before I had left, Ra's had said that my wish for Bruce to suffer had come true without my doing.

Seeing his words come to life before my eyes should have put a smile on my face, but I found myself frowning.

^V^

Despite the cold churning in my gut, everything seemed to be going according to our impromptu plan.

Going to the Cave that afternoon, I had all intentions of going over the previous night's atrocities in Bludhaven and at some point speak to Bruce. I had only attended to the latter, acceptable considering it had been the most important. Not entirely unexpected, he had already dedicated most of his day to locating the last known whereabouts of Ra's al Ghul. He had admitted to questioning Talia by himself, again, but had felt that the ends had justified the means.

Ignoring the fact that his world had fallen apart just as suddenly as mine had in the last few days, I had found myself snapping at him. I had called him out on his wanting to step back, suddenly wanting me to take over everything. When he had tried to give me the same weak excuse as he had earlier in the day, it had been the last straw.

"If this is about me questioning Talia, you can stop right now. I'm going to have J'onn come down, telepathically evaluate her when I question her… here and at the Watchtower."

There had been a fraction of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips before he had responded, "I told you not to second guess yourself on my behalf."

Stepping closer to him, I had defiantly said that I hadn't, that instead I had come to the alternative by my own means being justified by the risks. He had paused before asking what risks were being considered.

"Putting another soul in the middle of this god damned mess… which was what you wanted me to do, wasn't it?"

In his customary way, Bruce had admitted to it without actually doing so.

Giving in to my doubts, I had ended up taking the course that I should have in the first place. Granted J'onn had already been part of moving her to the Watchtower, asking one more favor of him had been easier than I had anticipated. When I had made the call that afternoon, he had noted that his original intentions had bee along similar lines, to make sure she wasn't fabricating a trap.

"Great minds think alike, hunh?" I had commented.

"They do… but having dealt with this woman before… I know all to well how capable she is of manipulating people. Especially Bruce."

Just like Bruce, I had agreed with him without actually doing so.

Flying to Turkey had not been on my list of patrol activities for that evening but had quickly replaced the catch up work that had been waiting for me. Dick was just over two months back into vigilante life, making leaving him as the last man standing unnerving. Unfortunately, Cass demanding to accompany was not open for debate. I had long since learned that when she wanted to do something, she was going to.

Worst case scenario, we would lose a day to travel ad touring the empty facility and not find anything of value.

Best case, we would be able to pick up the trail on two men very capable of bringing the Family to its knees…

After being enveloped in the all too familiar warm haze of electricity, I opened my eyes to the JLA teleportation dock. Within a heartbeat, I spotted J'onn standing beside Talia, quietly awaiting our arrival. I nodded in their direction slightly before looking to my left, offering Cass a minute smirk. Although her lips remained motionless, her eyes softened noticeably.

She had always been a firm believer in speaking without words.

As I followed her out of the teleportation chamber, J'onn's voice sounded softly, "For the time being, I've protected our presence with a psychic block. At this moment, no other League member is aware of the situation save for myself and Superman."

"How did he take it?" I found myself asking.

"Well enough," J'onn replied, "Although he seemed a bit disappointed that you had not contacted him directly."

My gaze moved to fall on Talia's worried face before I said, "I figured the less I reminded him of what red Kryptonite felt like, the better."

Her brow lowered slightly but more than enough to display her insult.

Quickly and quietly, we traveled into the corridor and followed J'onn to the stairwell and the lower level that waited to flights down. Much like the rooms reserved for League members, the holding rooms were hospitable as they were secure. It offered the same security measures as the room Talia had been kept in since Saturday night with the added benefit of being two hundred miles above the surface of the Earth. Add in nearly fifty League and Reserve members present at any given moment and Talia al Ghul was as kept as she was going to get.

Miraculously, we didn't run into any wandering or wayward heroes and made it to the room safely. J'onn noted without being prompted, "There is a meeting in the main hall."

"A made up one?" I asked.

"No… just a week early. Our absence isn't obvious. With your limited attendance over the year, it isn't entirely out of the ordinary."

"And yours?" Cass asked softly.

As J'onn deactivated the lock on the door, he glanced down at her, "I find that it is rare that anyone second guesses my actions." After the reinforced door receded into the wall, he stepped back and gestured for us to enter.

Talia glared at me, then shook her head before walking in. I asked her what was wrong and she waited until the door had sealed shut before replying, "Trading one cell for another."

"Consider yourself lucky. We have plenty of crevasses in the Cave that are far less accessible and far less accommodating," I responded. When she found nothing to say, I proceeded, "Well, seeing how we have a long night ahead of us, let's finish what we started."

"Finish?" Talia inquired, "I'm certain whatever questions you have left, I can not answer."

"We'll see won't we," I looked to J'onn before locking eyes with Talia, "Why is your father working with Jason?"

"He's spent nearly two decades molding him… shaping him into something he always wanted."

Cass spoke up softly, "A son."

Talia's lip twitched slightly. Before she found her voice, she gently touched the scar on her face, "Precisely. He hasn't had me lead a team into the field since Jason proved his worth. My father doesn't even require guards to be present when they are alone… a liberty that was once solely granted to myself."

"Will he name Jason his heir?" I asked without hesitation.

"Only if we are wed. Something I will never accept."

I hesitated before asking, "If Jason is such a valuable player and they are so concerned about your whereabouts… why didn't he come after you?"

She shrugged slightly, "I don't know. Most likely he'll have his men simply kill me, thus encouraging my father to name him next in line."

Before I could continue pressing her, J'onn's brow twitched slightly. If it had been anyone other than the six-foot-ten Martian standing before me, I would have ignored it. But much like my mentor, J'onn did not allow himself to show emotion readily, nor did he make any gesture without reason.

"What is it?" I asked.

J'onn ignored me, his red gaze focusing intently at Talia as she stood before us.

Remarkably, she looked back at him, not even the slightest bit intimidated. J'onn had the ability to turn her into an non-descriptive pile of human parts with his bare hands and yet she stared up at him as if he were a mere rain cloud threatening to ruin her day. And Bruce had expected me to get the truth out of her on my own…

Without warning, J'onn's arm flew out in front of him, latching onto Talia's throat before lifting her up and pinning her against the nearest wall. Cass and I had bolted forward, trying to pull him off of her fruitlessly. Talia's feet kicked out, landing painful blows on J'onn's torso, fruitless given his near invincibility. I found myself barking at him, telling him to let her go while I fought my own pointless battle of prying his hand off of her neck.

And when my bare hand came into contact with his my world ended and Talia's began.

I was no longer in the Watchtower but in a lavishly decorated bedroom, an aroma of sweet incense in the room and the sound of finches chirping from somewhere. My eyes instantly found two subjects sitting on the bed, a stunningly gorgeous woman in a red silk dress, brushing the hair of the girl beside her. The child had similar delicate features, although her green eyes were flecked with hazel.

"My beautiful girl," the woman said softly, gently combing through the waist long locks, "You must look your best for dinner."

"Yes, mother," she responded sheepishly.

"Your father is finally home… he won't believe how big you have gotten." The woman set the brush down on the bed before leaning in ad softly kissing the child's fair cheek, "He'll be so happy to see you, Talia."

With J'onn touching Talia and myself coming into contact with J'onn, the images meant one thing. He was showing me her thoughts, her memories… he was showing me why he had panicked…

The room vanished before my eyes, giving way to a hot, acrid smelling room lined with stainless steel and sheltered with a two-story ceiling and overhead exhaust vents. With the foul air filling my lungs, I scanned for the mother and child, freezing in my tracks upon seeing a male figure approaching, a man no more than twenty-five dressed in dark slacks and tan short-sleeved shirt. His eyes were wide with amazement, his gaze quickly moving from one part of the room to the other. For a moment, I thought he had spotted me, but decided I was relatively safe trapped in a memory.

And that it was equally safe to follow him.

"Good god," the man uttered as we came upon a massive vat inlaid to the floor. The contents were responsible for not only the horrid smell in the air but also the heat. With naturally occurring Lazarus pits growing scarce, Ra's had started making his own in the late seventies. Seeing one in person was always an impressive sight, knowing that falling in alive meant sudden death but going in dead would lead to resurrection…

"Quinlan?" a woman's voice echoed.

We both looked back to see her approaching, instantly recognizing her as Talia's mother. Where I couldn't think of her name off of the top of my frazzled head, he had, "Melisande… I… I…"

"What are you doing in here, Quinlin? You know you are not allowed from the common quarters… not at his hour."

"I apologize…" he turned away from her, stepping dangerously close to the lip of the pit.

She came to stand directly beside him, dressed in a silk nightgown but she still was beautiful, "I do not require an apology… but my husband will."

Quinlin panicked, his voice painfully scared, "No, please, I beg of you!"

"This room is forbidden to all… this can not go unpunished. You know this."

"No!" he swung around, accidentally striking her as he bolted, racing out of the room. I was unsure if he had looked back when Melisande cried out as she slipped and fell into the Lazarus Pit. My eyes had been unable to look away, my throat closing tightly not from the odor of the chemicals but from burning flesh.

The only moment I looked away was when the same child I had seen moments earlier stepped forward. A young Talia, with tears spilling over her cheeks, called out softly, "Mother?"

The room spun and somehow I was in a sitting room, watching Ra's stand beside his now twenty-year-old daughter as she sat on a chaise. In her hands were numerous photographs and she leafed through them slowly. I watched as she tried to fight back a smile, urging me to step closer to see what had caught her eye.

"He is impressive, yes?" Ra's asked.

"Quite so, father," she replied, moving to the next picture before I could reach them, "But American, yes?"

Ra's sighed, "Yes… but he has done well with his significant wealth. Far more than the world will ever know."

I sighed upon looking over her shoulder, seeing that the collection of glossy images were of Bruce. Decked out in his tuxedo at charity events, bathing suit on the beaches of Miami, smiling for the camera like the fop he had once been. As she moved to the next image, I shook my head.

Although investigative reporters had spent the better parts of their careers trying to get images of Batman, Ra's had a tidy collection of very in focus and very impressive images of him, seemingly without trouble. Pictures of him in mid-strike, taking out a group of armed thugs by himself. One of him standing over the fallen bodies of his foes, staring at them in contempt. Then another of him and a remarkably young looking Dick Grayson, not too long before he traded the red and yellow for the black and blue.

"He is the one… my beloved," Talia confirmed.

In a frightening offer of affection, Ra's leaned forward and kissed the top of his daughter's head, "Then it will be so."

The images started coming more quickly, all of them centering on both important and inconsequential moments of Talia's life. Fighting with her father, training with the League, meeting Bruce for the first time and his refusing to sire the heir to the empire of the Demon's Head. Without warning, I flashed to her rescuing his unconscious and bleeding form from an alley. Of her making love to him in her bed chambers. Grudgingly accepting her father's orders to sneak into the Cave in order to steal his protocols on the Justice League.

Then everything slowed down, images of her coming out of order, jumping back and forth with her adulthood and her painful adolescence under her father's rule.

A training room, sparring with bo staffs against a grown man with auburn hair, and when he struck her hard in the abdomen, she growled, "Damn you!"

"You know you like it," he laughed. Her anger quickly faded to passion as he leapt forward, pulled her to him, locking lips before he pinned her against the padded wall.

A teenaged boy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes walking on his hands as Talia and Ra's watched on. Her voice quiet with emotion, Talia pleaded with her father to tell Bruce the truth. Her father shutting her down callously, defending his position by saying, "For the very same reason Jason remains at my side, Talia… he has come to terms with his losses, why should I make him suffer them again?"

"It wouldn't be in vain, father, it would bring him happiness…"

He shook his head as he glared down at her, "Nothing will ever truly bring him happiness Talia. He may try with all of his might, but he will still live only in sorrow."

"No…" I found myself gasping as the visions shot further back, to Talia holding an infant in her arms, sobbing softly and begging an absent Bruce for forgiveness.

Lastly, it fell to a medical bay, thin sheets separating gurneys, offering little to drown out the crying agony of injured men. Bruce, cowl in place but doing little to hide his concern, sat beside Talia as she wept on the bed. Her always brilliant form huddled in a fetal position, her quivering back facing Bruce as she hugged her pillow.

He asked, "Talia, is anything wrong? Dr. Weltman didn't say…"

Her voice was a painful whisper, "I am well beloved… I… I lost the baby."

"No," I whispered again as the med unit faded to the guest quarters of the Clocktower, J'onn letting Talia fall to the glossy marble floor and pulling his arm away from me.

His deep baritone filled the room, "I sensed something was not right upon teleporting with her, that she was apprehensive. Her father is more than capable of creating and utilizing counter-psychic technology to increase his defenses. Apparently," he leaned over and grabbed Talia by the ear, pulling a yelp out of her as he reached in and retrieved a device no bigger than a grain of rice, "He has shared this with his wayward daughter."

After J'onn crushed it between his thumb and forefinger, he added, "I would have dealt with this sooner but felt it wasn't my place to do so… at the Cave."

Still catching my breath, I looked to her in utter disbelief.

Her memories were now mine, vivid as if they were happening right in front of me all over again.

"They're coming to the Manor now, aren't they?" I growled, thinking back to the faint spark of her contacting Jason.

Pulling her hair back, she glared up at me and replied, "I told you… I didn't want to leave."

^V^

It took less than ten minutes to suit up in the costume vault, mostly because I neglected to fold my clothes and simply tossed them on an empty bench. A side effect of letting myself function on auto-pilot while my mind ran vicious circles, never ending up anywhere that I wanted it to.

I had hoped that moving her to the Watchtower meant for at least one night of normalcy. Instead, Cass and Tim were heading across the Atlantic to infiltrate the last known residence of Ra's al Ghul. I had been surprised that Tim had so readily agreed for his wife to tag along, but when it came to the Demon's Head, there never was enough back-up. As I headed to the hangar to save Tim the hassle of doing the pre-flight check upon his return, I tried to convince myself that my place was in Gotham with the Family. And that had been the reasoning behind me not volunteering to go with him instead of Cass.

It wasn't that I was afraid to go. I had faced of with Ra's more often than I had cared to admit, even to myself. Globe trotting was once a staple in our vigilantism efforts, so trekking halfway around the world was the least of my concerns. I wasn't worried about my shoulder, protecting my city or even my family.

Reaching the idle plane lightly coated with dust, I sighed, thinking to myself that I was honestly afraid to see what monster Ra's had turned Jason into.

When Talia had first uttered his name and gave her weak attempt at explaining the last seventeen years, I had thought it was impossible. Even watching as Bruce relentlessly cleared the dirt from Jason's grave, I had told myself that even if Ra's took the body, that wasn't proof that he had been resurrected. That he had spent his second lease on life as a bloodthirsty assassin.

It was having J'onn verify Talia's unbelievable truths that suddenly that had my heart racing and my doubts vanishing.

It was true. He was alive. The boy we had looked to as a martyr to our cause and a victim of Bruce's war on crime was alive and well. Not only that, he was scheming with one of our oldest enemies to wreak havoc upon us. He wasn't the boy with a fierce laugh nor was he the first successor to the guise I had brought to life. He was a man, a monster, hell bent on some twisted perception of revenge.

If I went with Tim to hunt down Ra's, it would eventually have me coming face to face with Jason Todd. Two days earlier, I would have gone after the trail with all I had.

Two days earlier, it was just a story.

Suddenly, it was reality. One I was unable to face.

Talia was out of our hair, I started to distract myself. As I plugged in the fuel nozzle, I sighed, knowing that just because she was two hundred miles up above didn't make our troubles any lesser. Didn't make the threat any less real.

Focusing on surface inspection of the fuselage as the tank filled, I fought back images of Talia's face, the sound of Tim voice while he had been questioning her, the look in Bruce's eyes. Shaking the thoughts forcibly from my already frazzled mind, I pulled the nozzle back, reassembled the cap and locked it into place. Two steps down…

Although most of the pre-flight tasks were automated, it still offered a moment of distraction born out of focus. The door was already open and waiting for its pilot, allowing me to pull myself up and in. I wasn't surprised to find the lights of the cockpit already on, remotely activated by the crays. The main console showed the system was already working through automated checks, verifying tire pressure, fuel gauges and brake response. The entire process took roughly fifteen minutes, of which lasted long after the physical inspections of the exterior of the plane, that the flaps were unhindered and the seat belts were ready to go.

Two pairs of tandem seats featuring five point harnesses, which had on more than one occasion prevented me from crashing face first into the bullet proof glass dome.

With the Joker taking up the first half of the year and life being relatively quiet before that, the jet had only been out for routine monthly flights, usually quick jaunts in the open air space of Bristol. Once, Tim and I had taken it to Metropolis and back, seeing if Clark would have noticed. He had, even going as far as joining us for part of the flight back, decked in his red and blue, waving at us with a big smile. At nine hundred miles an hour.

Aside from the Mobile, it was literally the single most impressive piece of our arsenal.

I continued through the automated and physical flight checks, leaving the final approval and activation sequences for Tim to unlock when they got back. Trekking to the garage, I decided the cycle was the best way into the city given the chance for fresh air and three-digit speeds. I donned the helmet before bringing the engine to life, revving it loudly and disturbing the already troubled bats up above. First gear had me out of the garage bay, skipping second and directly into third made the bike growl angrily as it headed towards the tunnel.

Disengaging the clutch with my hand, I instinctively shifted with my left foot before twisting the throttle. As I let go with my left hand, the clutch released and the bike jumped up onward, the odometer reaching then surpassing sixty-five miles per an hour. I was just about to activate the remote controller for the exit at the end of the tunnel when alarms sounded from above, quickly followed by the lights going out overhead.

"What the hell?" I said as I quickly downshifted in order to turn the bike around. Aiming the headlights in the direction I had just come from, I cursed under my breath to see the emergency doors coming out of the walls, preparing to seal me into the tunnel as a safety precaution.

The highest level of security would not let anyone in or out of the Manor or Cave, but given that everything had been fine earlier in the day, I was uncertain as to why Bruce would have changed it. Racing back on the bike, I clenched my teeth as I tried to close in on the doors before they came together. Even red-lining had me yards away as the distance between the two massive steel structures became practically nothing.

It wasn't the first time I bailed and allowed a bike to be destroyed for the greater good. Or rather attempted greater good.

Rolling towards the wall, I looked on from the corner of my eye as the motorcycle crashed into the doors, glass shattering and the engine sputtering. The momentary distraction had been foolish, causing me to underestimate the distance between myself and the stone wall, leaving me crashing into it head first.

Although my helmet absorbed the blow, it was a few minutes before I risked sitting upright. Gingerly, I pulled it off and prodded the lump on the back of my head that hadn't been there ten minutes earlier. Activating the night lenses, I finally glanced over to the bike, momentarily hopeful when I realized that the back half of the bike had spun around and wedged itself between the closing doors.

"Lucky, lucky," I smirked.

With the grinding of unseen gears, I watched on helplessly as the doors proceeded to crush the bike like a cracker.

"Of course," I sighed.

After dusting myself off, I tentatively rose to my feet while making my first call for help on the Oracom in far too long, "Babs, you there?"

Nothing.

I tried the emergency frequency, which also broadcasted to the Watchtower.

Again, silence.

"Fine, be that way," I muttered as I pulled the remote computer from a compartment o my boot. Bringing up the network on the small display screen, I found my hope further dwindling to see that there was no connection available to the Oracom link or to the crays. Using the device's telephone function, I tried calling Wayne Manor. Bruce's cell phone. The Clocktower's emergency line.

Even Gotham County 911 Dispatch.

Nothing.

The technology of the Manor's security system would have shut down foreign and unrecognized communication devices but as a safety measure, it always allowed for Oracom access.

"Okay, deep breath, Grayson," I reminded myself. After convincing my pulse to relax a bit, I proceeded towards the tattered remains of the motorcycle. Fuel and oil had already started to pool underneath it, sparking a slightly plausible idea. From my right gauntlet, I dug out explosive gel and filled the tiny gap between the doors, tracing it down to the ground and around the bike's punctured fuel tank.

At the very least, it would be a proper farewell to another Batcycle.

Stepping back a generous distance, I turned away and closed my eyes before hitting the remote detonator. In an instant, the sealed tunnel was filled with a flash of heat and an echoing thunder that left my ears ringing despite the fact that I plugged them with gloved fingers. With the acrid scent of smoke hitting my nose, I turned around and smiled ant the burning remnants before me.

The blast would have never been able to bring down the doors, but it had cracked open a wormhole.

Using flame retardant capsules Bruce had engineered from the research of Victor Fries, I set the blaze to rest. Moving the debris aside, I gently touched the metal of the doors, waiting until it was cool enough to tolerate before proceeding. Unfortunately, the hole had to be cleared in a smooth fashion, leaving jagged pieces just begging to tear through my Kevlar. I kicked as many of the edges flat as possible, being sure to at least curl the tips upward as to avoid putting myself in a Chinese finger trap.

"Think thin, Grayson," I muttered to myself before stretching my arms through.

Thanks to some minute maneuvering, controlled breathing and significant lack of claustrophobia, I managed to inch my way through calmly and without further harming myself. Getting to my feet, I was shocked to see that the emergency generators had not kicked on, leaving the entirety of the Cave bathed in darkness. The generators were self automated, with solar panel back ups. There was not physical reason for them to have failed in their only duty.

Except if someone had tampered with them.

A quick scan of the Cave's main tiers showed Bruce to be no where in sight. Without the elevator at my disposal, I raced up the stone steps, my worries from earlier quickly replaced with more pressing matters. Namely, that putting the pieces of the last fifteen minutes together suggested someone had knocked out the security and the power, wanting easy access.

And with me on my way out, Tim and Cass in outer space, it was easy access to easy prey.

Reaching the grandfather clock, I quickly applied another batch of the explosive gel, stepping back before activating it. When the smoke cleared and revealed that only a surface burn had resulted, I cursed and punched the reinforced back with more force than I should have. The jolt rode all of the way up my right arm, making my nerves sing for a moment.

Before I could come up with a brilliant plan to open a door that wouldn't open, the lights flickered from above. Putting the gel applicator back in the compartment on my boot, I prayed silently that the explosion had done as little damage as it appeared. Messing up the electronics within would have me running back down the stairs and hoping the electricity would be on long enough to ride the elevator up to the Manor.

Grabbing the manual lever, I wasn't shocked when it didn't budge, the Manor's security still recovering would have put things on high alert. Pulling off a glove, I pressed my palm to the scanner and gave the verbal override for vocal confirmation. When the door unlocked and retreated, I whispered, "Lucky, lucky…"

With the lights on in the study, I switched the night lenses off and proceeded as quickly and quietly to the door as possible. I mused that just because the power was back on didn't mean that the presumed unwanted guests weren't still around. After all, Bruce had always taught me that it was better to be safe than sorry… although in a Do As I Say, Not As I Do sort of way.

As I carefully stepped through the door, I heard a soft jingling. Holding my breath, I recognized the all too familiar chime of a dog license rattling off of a Rabies vaccine tag. Frank made the same sound running up and down the hallway before he was fed, although where Ace was silent in his approach, the French Bulldog always grunted and sputtered dramatically.

"Hier," I called out softly. Not five seconds later, the big German Shepherd rounded the corner, spotted me and trotted forward. He was a bit hesitant given my garb, but I removed the mask and offered a smile and my hand. When he allowed me to pet him, I asked, "Where is everybody?"

He licked his lips softly and looked back in the direction he had come from. As he trotted off, I noticed that glove had come away slick with blood and I suddenly wondered if it belonged to the dog or a victim of his. Sticking to the wall, I followed him and the sound of his collar towards the back of the house. Nearing the atrium, I detected the faint smell of smoke, not from a fire but of an explosive device.

What used to be the nicely decorated sitting area just inside the terrace's French doors was scattered with overturned furniture, shattered glass and bits of wood. Although my eyes were drawn to the big gaping hole that had once been the intricately decorated doors, they shifted quickly when Ace whined. I looked down as he reclined beside a very still figure, the blood that had been on his coat having soaked onto him from the puddle on the floor.

Before my lungs froze with fear, I managed to say, "Alfred?"

Racing to him, I knelt beside him and quickly went about pulling my glove off to feel for a pulse. When something weak, but steady met my fingertips, I allowed myself to exhale. I retrieved the med kit from my boot, retrieving a compress for once I found the wound.

As I began to cut away his sweater, Alfred whispered, "Already ruined I suppose…"

"Alfred…" I gasped, "Can you hear me?"

He forced his eyes to open, "Well enough, young sir…"

"What did they do to you?"

He gingerly raised his right hand to point at his left shoulder, "We now have something in common, sir."

Ripping back the sweater and shirt beneath as carefully as possible, I doused the wound with a clotting agent before adhering the compress bandage. I asked him if it had exited through his back but Alfred shook his head, the effort far too great given the task. As I doctored him as best as I could, I tried to get information from him without causing undue stress. His story started just as mine had, the alarms sounding, the power cutting out.

Although while I had been crashing my bike, he had sent Leslie and the children downstairs to the vault.

"I didn't even think to check," I shook my head, "Where's Bruce then?"

He bit his lip for a moment and I thought it had been from pain. Alfred's voice was heavy with dread, "They took him… Leslie, too…. She must have sent the children on their own… came back for me…"

"It's okay, Al… It's going to be okay… Did they… did they say anything? Anything at all?"

He nodded, "They came... from... Ra's al Ghul."

"They said that?"

When he tried to force himself to sit up, Alfred shook his head. Reluctantly, I helped him, surprised when he then used me to get to his feet. "Not in so many words… but… there was one… he claimed to be Master Jason... He was the one that shot me... That disabled Master Bruce…"

"Alfred, hang on a minute…" I tried to get him to relax, flashing back to all of the times he had fruitlessly tried to get any of us to rest after an injury.

"I must… find Miss Mattie… Master Terrance..."

The wound required surgery that any doctor would have to report to the authorities.

He needed a blood transfusion and a score of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories.

The Family's physician and the love of his life was just kidnapped by Jason Todd.

Along with Bruce…

Looking at the pain and terror filled eyes of the man I had always looked to for strength, I realized that my luck had officially run out.

^V^