Dick didn't mention the effect Elle's little music video had on the police station. He wasn't certain how she would take it. He wasn't entirely sure how he was taking it for that matter. He had repeated the experiment two more times since Tuesday with similar results. After a minute, people, no matter how violent or upset they were, would begin quieting down in order to listen. Before the song had ended, the room was silent and all those angry people were mellow or even happy, despite being behind bars or handcuffed to a chair. It was the damndest thing he had ever witnessed, but a little frightening as well.

He called Bruce while at his desk. Dick was certain he was still at work. Gretchen, Bruce's secretary, answered. Bruce was in a meeting. Of course, he was. He would be available in an hour. Dick was off in an hour and had nothing planned except going to Elle's show this evening. But he felt hesitant to go after this discovery.

He needed to discuss this with Bruce first. He needed to speak to Aquaman. He was pretty sure that Bruce would have called him had the Atlantian king contacted him, but perhaps, once he showed the video to Bruce, he could make another more urgent plea to the man to come. In the meantime, Dick thought it might behoove him to avoid Elle . . . Just for a little while.

He called her.

"Hi," Elle chirped. "I was just thinking about you."

"Hi yourself," he said, a smile spreading across his face. He noticed. It was like he couldn't help himself.

"I can't wait to see you tonight. I've missed you," she told him.

They hadn't seen each other since Monday with the exception of Elle's video. Although they had spoken a couple of times since then, they were content to wait until Thursday to see each other.

"I missed you, too," he assured her. And he did. There was an ache in his chest just thinking about what he was about to do. "I called you for a reason."

"Oh?" Elle's voice held a note of curiosity. "And what reason is that?"

"I'm not going to be able to make it tonight," he told her. The ache flared in his chest. He frowned. It was actually hard for him to disappoint her! "I'm needed back in Gotham this evening. I'll try to make it there tomorrow night."

"Oh, I hope nothing is wrong." He could hear the worry in her voice. "Is Damian okay?"

The smile was back. She and Damian seemed to really hit it off well. But then he couldn't help wondering if their friendship wasn't related to what he had seen in the video. Damian wasn't one to trust easily, and making friends with someone he just met was completely out of character for him. Had Elle somehow hypnotized him or put some kind of spell on him through her voice? Bruce, too, liked and trusted her almost immediately! Bruce was the most paranoid, cynical person on the face of the earth . . .

Which led Dick back to his own feelings for her; were they real? Or was this something that happened because he had been going to hear her sing for weeks on end? Had he been subjecting himself to a type of brainwashing? Did she know how her singing affected people? Had she done this on purpose? It wouldn't be the first time that someone tried to get close to Bruce's money through him. It likely wouldn't be the last. But it didn't make sense to him. She came from a wealthy family. Even though Elle wanted to make it on her own, she really didn't need the money.

Dick rubbed his chest with one hand. This line of thinking was becoming physically painful! What the hell did she do to him?

"Dick? Hello? Are you there," Elle asked. Her concern was growing; he could hear it in her voice. "Is everything all right? Do you need me?"

"What?"

"If you need me, I think I might still have time to call someone in to cover for me," she offered.

"Ah, no," he said. "It's nothing like that. Bruce just needs me to help him research something he needs for a meeting tomorrow." Dick winced. He hated lying to her.

"Well, if you're sure. I guess I will see you tomorrow then. I'll miss you."

"I miss you, too. I'm sorry about this," he said.

"No, that's okay," she reassured him. She sounded sincere, and he breathed a little easier. "Your family is important to you, and that makes them important to me. If Bruce needs you; you need to go. There will be other nights. Don't worry about it."

As they hung up, Dick felt relieved that she was okay with him missing her show, but he couldn't shake the ache in his chest or the guilt he felt for lying to her. He wondered if that was natural or something insidious on her part. The pang that thought caused him, made him catch his breath.

He grabbed his jacket and keys. He could be at the Manor in an hour.

"Master Richard! This is a surprise," Alfred said upon opening the door for him. "We weren't expecting you back for another week."

Dick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was in the neighborhood and just passing through . . ."

"Come in, come in," Alfred told him with a small smile. "You don't need a reason to stop by for a visit."

Dick grinned as he took off his jacket. He was still in uniform. He had left his service revolver locked in a compartment of his bike since Bruce had a thing about guns being in the house. As much as he hated them, it was Bruce who had first taught him to shoot. The irony wasn't lost on him.

"Be that as it may, Alf, I actually do have a reason for stopping by," Dick said. "Is Bruce home yet?"

"Master Bruce is in the den," Alfred informed him. "I will bring in some tea, perhaps, and I made some fresh scones. May I assume you'll be staying for dinner?"

"Sounds great, Alfred," Dick replied, although it didn't take a detective to see that the young man was preoccupied.

Dick made his way to the den and paused in the doorway. Bruce was on the phone, pacing in front of the fireplace. It took only a glance to tell he was agitated. Whatever news he was getting was bad, apparently.

"How much are we talking about here? . . . And no one had any clue this was going on until now? . . . Make certain of this before you make a formal accusation. If he is guilty of this, I want him out and in handcuffs, but there must be irrefutable proof. I won't subject the man to this unless we are certain he is guilty as charged." Bruce was saying.

He waved Dick into the room with one hand, without looking up. Dick entered, but remained near the door. He didn't want to interrupt what looked to be an important phone call.

"And you know this for a fact?" Bruce slammed a hand down on the mantle hard enough to cause a number of the photographs there to shift. "Fine. Have security make copies of those tapes as well to use as evidence. We wait until he comes in tomorrow morning; from there have security meet him with Gotham PD. They can arrest him and escort him out of the building at that point."

Bruce shook his head. "He has a wife and three children, doesn't he? . . . If he is unaware that we are onto him, then it is better to do it at the office. This is going to be difficult enough for his family; I'd hate to drag the man out of his home in handcuffs in front of his children. Alright. Good. I'll see you tomorrow at seven-thirty sharp."

Bruce hung up the phone with a little more force than necessary. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and anger. Dick watched him control his breathing in an effort to calm down before addressing him, but Dick wanted him angry. This would be the final test he needed.

"Bruce? What happened," Dick asked. He needed him to remain irritated for another moment. He started pulling up the video, but refrained pressing play just yet.

"A discrepancy was found during an audit. Apparently I have been employing an embezzler for the last five years," the older man growled.

Dick frowned. "How much did he get?"

"Three point five million," Bruce told him. "Apparently Wayne Enterprises' benefit package was lacking in some way."

He whistled. "Ouch! Will you be able to recoup the money?"

"I don't know," Bruce turned to face him. "It isn't even the money that bothers me as it is the betrayal of a trusted employee. I try to be fair to my employees. I pay them competitive wages and supply a rather excellent benefit package, along with offering scholarships, intern programs, tuition reimbursements, a daycare center . . . And then this. These people, they think they are stealing from me, but in truth they are stealing from their coworkers in the end!"

Bruce's face was actually turning red. Yep, he was hot.

"You sound pretty angry right now," he confirmed.

Bruce glared at him. Perfect, Dick thought. He held up a finger. "Okay, hold that thought, and remember how you are feeling right this minute." He held up his phone and pressed play. "I want you to listen to this now. Don't comment, just listen."

Elle's voice drifted out of the phone.

Dick watched Bruce's face as he listened. At first he frowned, not understanding why Dick wanted him to listen to music while he was still so irritated. It did seem frivolous and not suited to the circumstances, after all. But then the crease between his brows eased a bit. About halfway through the song, he drifted over to sit down by the fire. Dick followed and sat down in the opposite chair. As the song ended, Dick turned it off. He didn't want to hear Elle proclaiming her love for him right now.

"So, now how do you feel," he asked.

Bruce took a large breath, crossing his legs and propping his hands in front of him. "Better actually. More relaxed. What is going on? Why did you come all the way to Gotham just to have me listen to a recording of . . . That was Elle, wasn't it? It is rather hard to not recognize her voice." He smiled.

Dick chewed on his lower lip; a habit he had when he was upset about something or had a problem he didn't know how to deal with.

"Bruce, I need to talk with Aquaman. I need to do it soon," he said, not really answering the question. Answering the question meant having to put into words all the disturbing thought he'd been having over the past few days; making it a reality rather than just a crazy theory.

"I told you it could take a while. Arthur has many obligations outside of the Justice League," Bruce said carefully. Something was bothering his son that was apparent.

Dick sighed. He wished now that he hadn't come. He wished that he had waited until after work to watch the damned video. Why did he have to be so observant? Why did he have to question what was meant to be a gift? Surely that was all Elle had meant the song to be . . . A gift!

Bruce leaned over and tapped Dick's leg. "What's going on? This obviously has something to do with Elle. What happened that you suddenly cannot wait for answers?"

"I . . . I think," Dick ran his hands over his face and through his hair in frustration. Why did this feel like he was betraying her in some way? "I think that Elle has the ability to . . . I don't know the right word here; maybe . . . hypnotize people through her voice."

He watched as Bruce blinked at that. His eyes looked far away as he thought about it. Dick knew he was going over every time he had heard Elle sing; every time he had listened to her speak. Anyone else would have looked at him like he was insane, but not Bruce. Dick knew that Bruce would take his idea seriously. It was why he came here. It was why he was currently terrified to know if Bruce thought he might be right.

"That's an interesting theory," Bruce said, noncommittally. "Before I express an opinion, would you like to tell me what brought you to this conclusion?"

And here was the other reason he came to his adopted father; the reason he trusted this man's opinion over any other. Bruce didn't make snap judgments. He listened to all of the evidence before coming to a decision one way or the other; just like he did with the embezzler. Bruce wouldn't let him make what might be the biggest mistake of his life.

The man wasn't stupid. He knew without a word that Dick loved this woman. He might think it too soon, but he was well aware of his son's tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. He also knew that Dick had loved Barbara Gordon for years, and that in the course of a few short weeks, he had totally gotten over her and fallen head over heels for this new woman.

Dick had known Babs for years before he had admitted that his fascination for the redhead had become love. He had known Elle for five weeks, and had known of her for only five weeks before that. Even though he was well aware that he loved easily, even Dick didn't fall in love this quickly. But he remembered his reaction to her the moment she had walked out on that stage that first evening; before she had even opened her mouth.

Love at first sight? Was that even possible? He would have said no just a couple of months ago, but now? He had thought it lust at the time; that incredible attraction that had sizzled between them despite the crowd, despite the distance between his table and the stage. But when he first spoke to her, and God, the first time he had kissed her . . . He had known even then. He hadn't been willing to admit it until this last weekend, but his subconscious mind had already admitted what his heart had already known.

"Elle sent this video to me on Tuesday afternoon," he stated slowly. "She had someone record it during her rehearsal. I opened it while still at work."

Nervously, he sat forward with his elbows resting on his knees; his hands clasped. He stared at the plush Aubusson carpet without really seeing it. He shoved the sudden nausea back down and continued.

"That day had been crazy," he said. "There had been a demonstration that morning that had turned into a riot. The holding cells had been filled to capacity, and an officer had to be posted to prevent people from basically killing each other even behind bars. There were a dozen men and women upstairs to be processed that had been arrested for everything from armed robbery, domestic abuse, A&B, you name it. There were also at least another half dozen people there that were victims of crimes. They were all yelling and screaming, shouting threats, basically a room full of hostiles with a room full of overworked, underpaid cops that looked like what I had been feeling myself all day; irritation, annoyance, and anger. In short, it was a powder keg ready to blow up any second."

Dick blew out his breath. "Elle never calls me at work. Her reason is that she doesn't want to distract me if I'm in the middle of something dangerous. She always waits until I'm off if she wants to talk. But that day, she sent a text telling me that I have mail. It was only a half hour or so before I got off for the day, so I guess she thought it would be safe enough. Because she sent it during the workday, I immediately opened it. I thought it must be important for her to send it to me before I got home."

"And that was it," Bruce asked. "The song you just played for me?"

Dick nodded. "I had a headache from hell. I had literally just taken something for it right before I opened the video." He laughed a little, remembering his surprise; his delight at the gesture.

"It was sweet, you know? And it immediately began to lift my spirits. The noise was loud though, so I turned up the volume as high as it would go. I remember thinking after a minute into it, that the noise level had improved, but I didn't bother turning down the volume. Nobody complained, after all. By the time I got to the end of it, I suddenly realized two things. My headache was completely gone and I was relaxed, and the room was silent."

He leaned back in the chair, but didn't look at Bruce. He stared instead into the fire. "There's a little part after the song where Elle believes whoever was recording had stopped. She walks away toward the band behind her and says something . . . cute. Anyway, I laughed, but so did a lot of other people. When I looked behind me, there were more than a dozen officers standing around watching over my shoulders. As the group broke up, people that were tired and cranky before were smiling and cracking jokes. I looked around the room, and everyone in it, including the criminals and victims were calm, mellow, and some of them were even smiling, too."

Dick looked at Bruce now. "I'd never seen anything like it."

"And this is why you think she has some sort of power or ability to what? Alter people's thinking? Change their moods?" Bruce was staring at him. His expression was serious, however. At least, he hadn't yet decided if his son was going nuts or not.

"I tested it out, Bruce . . . Twice," Dick was quick to assure him. He knew he sounded nuts. "I took it down to the holding cells. It was almost a madhouse there. I heard later that there were considering using tear gas, that's how bad it was. Anyway, all I did was to turn the volume up and hit play. Within a minute, the noise level had dropped by half. By the end of the song, people were quiet. I even saw a couple of people smiling." He turned in his seat to face the older man. "Bruce, this just doesn't happen . . . But it did. I swear it did. I tried it again the next day with the same results!"

Bruce was silent for a long time as he considered everything Dick had told him. When he spoke, it was with a soft voice.

"I'll admit that by the end of the song, I was definitely feeling better. My anger at being misled had vanished and I felt relaxed, like you said you did afterward." Bruce sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Of what exactly are you accusing her? Do you think she is set on world domination?"

Exasperated, Dick jumped up and started pacing as Bruce had done just a few minute before. "No! I don't know! I was just thinking that if she can do that, then what is it that I'm really feeling about her? I mean, Bruce, I'm falling in love with this woman!" He shook his head. "No," he corrected. "I am in love with her."

Dick faced his father, friend, and mentor and allowed his worry and fear to show. "Is what I'm feeling for her real, Bruce? Or did she do this to me purposely? And it isn't just me! You liked her immediately before you knew anything about her. Then there is Damian! Have you ever known him to actually like someone that quickly? You saw the animosity he had for her on Friday, but by Monday he was accepting hugs from her! Even you have to admit that is weird!"

"Dick, it is true that I liked her right away, and I must admit that it is odd for me to make a snap judgment like that, but it is only fair to say that the more I learned about her, the more I felt justified in my initial response. She does exude honesty and sincerity. I felt as if she meant every word she spoke. Of course, I was probably more open to liking her because she managed to pull you out of that eight month funk you've been in since you and Barbara split." Bruce said, slowly.

"I was impressed by her bravery and concern for you after that incident on the bridge Friday night. She didn't pout when she missed her opportunity to sing at that party, but was intent on helping the child and mother, and then supporting you. I was impressed by her patience with Damian; her willingness to, not only forgive his bad behavior, but also her willingness to share you with your family. She risked her life to save Damian when she didn't have to. Not one of us would have blamed her for staying in the gym when he fell, and yet she very likely saved him from hospital stay if not his life."

Bruce met Dick's eyes. "Elle has been nothing, if not gracious and polite while here. And then there was her defense of you to her father. I find it very hard not to like her. I also find it equally as difficult to think that my impressions of her this past weekend were due entirely to her voice."

Dick blew out his breath, relief flooding him. "So, I'm full of shit, is that what you're saying?"

Bruce pursed his mouth at the younger man's language. "Not entirely. I see your point. And she may have some unique quality that makes her likable, or lovable in your case, but I don't think it was powerful enough to make me like her if there wasn't something there already to like."

"You don't believe that she made me love her, then?"

Frowning, Bruce shook his head. "I don't know. She comes from a wealthy family. While you have access to considerable wealth, eventually you will be worth more than her father; although that won't happen until you inherit. I cannot see a monetary motive for her making you love her. I suppose there might still be a reason yet unknown to us." He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "But it's the possibility of it that is bothering you, I think."

"I'm not fond of being manipulated, no," Dick admitted.

"Do you have your suit with you?" Bruce stood up and looked outside. It was still daylight. "We can go to the Watchtower and try to reach Aquaman again. In the meantime, it might be a good idea to avoid Elle."

Dick nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Just keep in mind that you could hurt her by doing this." Bruce warned him.

"I know," he said.

That uneasy feeling rose up inside of him again. Despite this suspicion, Dick didn't want to hurt her. He remembered the warning that Brian Donovan had given him the night Elle had first serenaded him. He had called her an innocent. He hadn't seen anything in Elle's behavior to make him doubt that. But he had to know if she had somehow knowingly manipulated his emotions.

Was it strange that what he was feeling for Elle seemed to make everything else pale in comparison? Was he lucky to have found such a woman, or was he a fly caught in her web? He had to know! He had to be absolutely sure.