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...

4. Come What May: IV

Title: Come What May

Author: DC Luder

Summary: Bruce is distracted by home life while Tim investigates without him.

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

Author's Note: Bruce's incident at the pharmacy is influenced by a scene from That 70's Show… never thought you'd see those two connected, did you? Fight scene in Tim's POV is loosely based on the Hong Kong fight in The Dark Knight.

^V^

"Well?" I asked, having managed to remain silent for fifteen minutes. Although my looming presence mere feet away had probably been just as distracting as incessant talking...

Leslie looked up at me from the microscope in front of her. It was a rare occurrence to see her in the Cave for reasons other than sewing up wounds or setting bones. In a way, she was treating the ill for once and not the infirm.

"Sorry, Bruce, it's strep," she finally answered.

I had been preparing to leave Wayne Enterprises shortly after one that afternoon when the elementary school nurse had called. Nathan had been laying in her office with a mild fever and sore throat since before lunch and she was inquiring if I could pick him up. He had been a bit under the weather that morning, barely finishing breakfast before dragging his feet out the door. Selina and I had both offered to let him stay home from school but he had been adamant about not missing his science class since they were watching a movie about wolves.

On my way to Bristol, I had called Selina to inform her that Nathan had taken a turn for the worse. She also had decided to call it quits for the day and had stared packing up her things to leave. As I passed out of the city limits, I had said, "Leslie was going to be home this afternoon to work with me… I'll have her look at Nate first."

"Okay," she had sighed, "Poor guy."

When I had arrived at the school, I had parked out front in the visitor's lot, opting out of using the handicap space. Cane in hand, I had made my way into the school, asking a hall monitor where the nurse's office was. He had explained it simply enough, but I found myself asking him to repeat it. Although my short term memory was improving, I still had little faith in it.

Finally arriving, I had been surprised to see a number of other children were seeking comfort, many sitting in plastic chairs lined up on the far wall. I had promptly sought out the nurse who had been occupied with putting an adhesive bandage on a young girl's knee. Waiting, I had listened as the older woman reminded the child, "Now, no more skipping down the hall, okay?"

"Yes, Nurse Kolgut."

Once the girl departed, the nurse had looked up at me, "Can I help you?" After explaining who I was, she had nodded, "Nathan's back here." She led the way towards the back of the L-shaped room to a series of cots separated by drapes. The hidden figures within were either coughing or sneezing. She had pulled back the drape on the second to last bed, revealing Nathan laying on his side, his face red but his eyes closed.

"His temp is just over one hundred and he's been popping back cough drops for the last hour," she had stated, "I know school let's out in an hour and a half but I think it's best he go home and rest."

I had taken a seat on the edge of the thin mattress, gently brushing back his damp bangs, "Hey, tiger."

He had opened his eyes, coughed hoarsely and then said, "I missed my movie."

Smiling, I had offered, "I'm sure we can get you a copy of it."

Nurse Kolgut had added, "He said he had only started to feel sick this morning… given how fast this came on, I'd have him tested for strep by your doctor."

"Thank you," I had replied before rising to my feet. Hooking my cane on my arm, I had leaned over to pick Nathan up, letting him rest his chin on my shoulder and smirking when his arms limply snaked around my neck. The nurse had offered to let us use the school wheelchair to get him to the car but I had declined. After a quick stop at his classroom, of which I had only recalled the location of because of open house the month before, I had helped him don his jacket and hat before braving the chilly November air. Not two weeks into the month and it was rarely above freezing, even during the day.

As we had headed out, Nathan moaned in my ear and when I asked him to repeat himself, he had asked if he could still watch the football game that night. His beloved Giants were playing the Cowboys, a game he had been talking about all weekend. I had made no promises save for that if he was still awake, I would watch it with him. We had made it home by two and I had proceeded to carry him inside. Navigating to the elevator, I had taken him directly up to his room to get him settled into clean pajamas. As he had changed, I retrieved cough syrup from the master bathroom and although he fused a bit, I had finally coerced him to take it. After all, the Giants would take their medicine if they were told to.

Once he had been tucked in with Ace sitting at bedside, I had returned to the ground floor in search of Alfred or Leslie, preferably both. I had crossed paths with Leslie first as she started to trek upstairs, "Bruce, I didn't even know you were home."

"I had to bring Nathan home early from school… The nurse said she thinks he has strep."

She had nodded briefly before saying, "I'll get my bag, we can do a quick swab test… That is if you don't mind me stealing your lab downstairs."

"Prefer that to having him sit in the health center."

Nathan had nearly been asleep when we arrived at his room and thankfully he was tired enough not to be too upset by having his throat swabbed. Alfred had also joined us, bearing a dish of orange sorbet to help cool Nathan's throat. He had offered to sit with him while Leslie made a quick trip to the Cave, of which had allowed me to follow her down.

And Strep it was...

Making our way upstairs, Leslie offered, "I'll write him a script for liquid amoxicillin."

"We have it in pill form in the medical bay," I countered.

"He's six, Bruce. Let him enjoy bubble gum flavored medicine while he still can," she paused in order to sign off on the prescription pad in her hand.

After tearing off the piece of paper, she handed it to me, nearly saying something else when we heard Selina call out my name. Making our way down the corridor from the study, I offered, "Over here."

She came into view, still dressed from her long day at the Preserve. Instead of business casual, she had opted for warmth and comfort, wearing flannel lined jeans, insulated hiking boots and a fitted wool sweater beneath a down vest. She still had her purse over her shoulder and she adjusted it as she approached us, "How is he?"

Leslie gave her the bad news and then added, "Ten days on antibiotics and he'll be good as new. Regrettably, it's Monday… he really shouldn't go back to school until Thursday."

Selina sighed as she looked to me, "What does your week look like?"

It was busy seeing how we were finalizing a buyout of two computer programming firms as well as gearing up for the month long holiday efforts in the East End. Instead of saying so, I shrugged, "Nothing they can't do without me."

"You sure? I mean, I could take tomorrow off, but the rest of the week is a mess with all of the field trips we have scheduled."

I stepped forward and kissed her cheek, "It's fine. Don't worry."

Leslie silently excused herself, giving us a moment alone.

Selina sighed again and looked towards the stairs, "Well, I'm going to go up and see him and change… Do you mind running out to get his meds?"

"What?" I asked.

"If not, I can when I go pick Mattie up later."

"From school?" I asked, confused, "What is she doing?"

"She's at Terry's, they're working on their global history presentation." Before I could protest, Selina cut in, "His father is there helping them and supervising them, so don't even start."

After a moment of glaring at her, I relented, "Fine. I'll go."

We headed towards the base of the stairs and paused together once she stood on the bottom step. She opened her purse suddenly and retrieved a pen and a Post-It pad, "Thank you. And get plague supplies, I don't think we have much aside from that one bottle of cough syrup."

"I think I can handle it without a list," I muttered.

"Really, are you going to remember what flavors of cough drops he likes... And that he doesn't like tissue boxes with flowers on them… and that he likes the grape Tylenol and not the cherry?" When I had no reply, she added, "And you might as well get my meds while your there, and yours and Mattie's as well."

"Yes, dear," I grunted when she gave me the piece of paper.

Instead of letting go of it, she tugged it against my grip, able to stare directly into my eyes on her perch. Rather than hit me as I expected her to, she leaned forward and kissed me on the lips, "Watch it."

Without another word, she let go of the note and resumed climbing the stairs. Shaking my head, I about faced and trekked back to the garage, selecting the same Lexus that I had already driven that day. In previous months, I had been wary of driving on the open roads, still not having found the correct dosage to control my seizures. Having been episode free for weeks, I had finally been able to step away from the dependence of others carting me around. Although it was a slight step in the right direction, I had regrettably been limited to driving automatic vehicles instead of the much preferred standards.

My left leg was doing better, but it certainly wasn't flexible enough to work a clutch.

The town proper of Bristol was relatively quiet given the early afternoon hour. Again, when I parked, I did not use the handicap spot in order to leave it for someone who actually needed it. Dick had joked at Halloween that he wanted to borrow my temporary pass so he could get better spots at shopping plazas. I had assured him he was welcome to it, but only after I made it necessary for him to have one.

Double checking that I had the list, my wallet and cane, I stepped out of the car and locked it, nearly shutting the door before realizing I had left the keys in the ignition. A common error amongst others, it would have been a simple enough fix by either calling the house for the spare set in the garage or contacting AAA. It was, however, a common enough error that I still would have hated admitting to. Developing short term memory was far from science and it was something that I feared would never be truly regained.

Stepping inside, I grabbed a small plastic basket before seeking out the cough and cold aisle. I had never been one for shopping, always delegating the task for others. However, since my life had turned at the middle of the year, it was actually rewarding to go out and accomplish something, even as minute as going to the drug store. List in hand, I quickly found the peppermint cough drops, grape liquid Tylenol and Robitussin DM for my son. The next aisle over, I sighed to see a wide variety of tissue boxes and used my best judgment to find the least feminine one.

From there, I navigated to the back where there was a short line at the pharmacy counter. Setting the basket at my feet, I double checked to make sure everything on the list had been accounted for. Pocketing the note, I took out my cell phone to see an amendment had been texted to me from my wife: couple vitamin water c power bottles too.

Craning my neck around, I found a refrigerated display of Vitamin Water bottles towards the front and reminded myself to grab them on the way to the cashier. Looking back, I realized I was next in line and was quick to seek out the prescription from Leslie.

"Mr. Wayne… good to see you," the pharmacist smiled warmly.

I had no recollection of ever meeting the late forty-year-old black man before me and read his name tag in order to fake it, "You, too, Dr. Robinson."

After handing over the piece of paper, he shook his head, "Uh-oh… sick one at home?"

"My youngest boy has Strep."

"That's terrible… although it seems to run rampant right about now." He looked to his assistant, a red haired young woman, "Cheryl, you want to get this taken care of?" She nodded and walked into the pharmacy and out of sight.

"My wife was wondering if the rest of our prescriptions were available… might as well pick them up all at once."

I listed off our names and medications and he stepped away briefly to investigate. Returning a few minutes later, Dr. Robinson offered me a small, white paper bag, "Okay. Here is Nathan's amoxicillin, just make sure it stays refrigerated." He then pushed three more white bags across the counter, "And here is what Dr. Buccalo set aside for the rest of the family."

Out of habit, I looked over the tags on each bag and matched them with the contents, "Do I pay up front?"

"Yep, they'll check you out at the cashier."

I had nearly thanked him before seeing an additional item in Mattie's bag, "Uh, just a second… I think there was a mix-up."

"Oh?"

"My daughter has her asthma medication here but there's also an order of orthotrycyclen."

"Hm…" he cleared his throat and said, "Let me go check quick."

Waiting, I put her bag on the counter and put the others in the basket. He appeared again with a printed piece of paper, "Nope, she's all set. The script was submitted in June and is good until December first."

Shaking my head, I tried to explain, "No, she isn't taking… that. She's only thirteen."

He was starting to look uncomfortable, although it was difficult to tell if it was the form the awkward situation or the firm look that had taken over my face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne… you can see here that it's in her name," he handed over the paper, "… from Dr. Thompkins."

Thanking him curtly, I grabbed the bag and quickly made my way to the front. I impatiently waited as the cashier scanned my items and ignore her as she tried to make small talk. Grabbing the plastic bags and muttering something that might have been appreciative in a different tone, I headed out to the parking lot.

It wasn't until I reached the gates of the manor that I realized two things.

First, I had forgotten to get the drinks.

Second, my daughter was at Terry's house.

^V^

"I hate to say it, but this outdoes the work my grad students did on their midterm presentations," Terry's dad smirked.

After diligently researching in the library and tapping Dr. Miller for his wealth of medieval knowledge, Terry and I were probably capable of passing a college exam. Our social studies teacher, Mrs. Cook, had assign pairs of students a specific topic of the middle ages and required us to not only hand in a research paper and bibliography, but also to prepare a ten minute presentation to the class. She had said that the paper was all business but the presentations could be whatever we desired. Piper and Angie were working on nutrition in the time period, or rather malnutrition, and were going to have a sample meal for the upper class as well as the lower class.

Upon hearing them discuss their plans earlier in the week, I had instantly looked to Terry and growled, "We have to top free food."

Our subject ended up being the mythical beasts of the time and their importance in religion and culture. Terry had been quick to point out that we could show how they were still around today and impacting modern cultures. The research had been a task, learning all we could about the basilisk, phoenix, griffon and the unicorn. We were able to find representations in modern film and stories, particularly in our joint favorite Harry Potter.

Paper completed the week before, we had spent most of the weekend working on display posters, adding the final touches at his house after school on Monday. Scheduled to present on Wednesday, we planned on having all of our materials ready so that we would only have to practice our parts to the presentation. For a competitive edge, we also had burned footage from choice movies depicting our new interests to disc in order to play specific scenes during class. The posters were not only adorned with detailed drawings of the creatures we had studied, but also quick notes on their origin, purpose and impact. Terry's dad had let us take over the living room, covering the large coffee table with markers and printed text. He had checked in on us regularly, amazed at our dedication to the subject since Terry had showed little interest in his profession.

Nearly done, he had come in one final time, applauding our efforts.

I looked up and smirked, "A Plus?"

"A Plus Plus," Dr. Miller replied. "Well, it's nearly five, did you want to stay for dinner, Mattie? I was thinking we could order in some pizza."

Rising to my feet, I shook my head, "No thanks… My mom should actually be here soon."

"All right… Terry let me get my camera before you guys wrap up… these drawings belong on my office wall."

As he left, Terry sat back, nearly done coloring in the fire around the phoenix he had drawn. He was actually very good at pencil drawings, often sketching instead of note taking during class. For Valentine's Day, he had made me a drawing of Coltrane based on the picture I had of my former horse in my locker. It had been nearly exact in detail save for the notation: Coltrane smells, but you don't.

"Whew," he sighed, "This better be an A Plus Plus, my hand is about to fall off."

I sat on the couch behind him, admiring his work, "Well, you're the one who wanted to draw in every scale on the basilisk."

"Yeah yeah…" he paused to look back at me, "Sure you don't want to stay? I was going to con Dad into getting Buffalo chicken pizza."

"Mmm, chicken wings and pizza in one bite," I smiled dreamily. After he snickered at me, I continued, "Let me call my mom quick, see if she left already."

He nodded, "Cool, I'll finish this, let Dad play photographer then we can put them in the plastic sleeves."

Standing, I stepped into the hall briefly, retrieving my cell phone from my pocket and quickly dialing my mother's. After two rings, she answered with a curt, "I'm sorry, I'm on my way."

The tone of her voice instantly put me on edge, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing… just… I'm just leaving here. Be about fifteen minutes."

"Mom?"

"Nothing… just your father-."

I felt my heart leap into my throat, "What happened?"

"He's fine. At least until I kill him, he'll be fine. Listen, I'll be there soon. Okay?"

She had tried to control her voice but it failed miserably. Instead of pushing the matter, I agreed, "Okay, see you soon."

Hanging up, I turned around to see Terry standing behind me, worry plastered on his face, "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head, "No."

"Sorry, I just… you were talking loud and… are you sure?"

Nodding, I replied, stepping by him and into the den, "Yeah, it's fine. Mom's on her way so I guess I'll have to have pizza some other time."

Terry still looked concerned but he offered, "I'll bring you a slice for lunch tomorrow."

That brought a smile to my lips, "Really?"

"Of course… well, that is if I don't eat the whole thing tonight," patting his flat stomach, he added, "Growing boy."

I stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, "You're the best."

"I keep telling you that, about time you listened."

As we began picking up the markers and scraps of paper, Dr. Miller returned with his Nikon. He proceeded to set the posters up one at a time on the mantle, snapping several pictures before saying, "The plastic sleeves are in my office, it's not Mona Lisa's bullet proof glass but at least it will keep them from smudging."

"Thanks, Dad."

He looked at his son, "I meant it earlier, these are amazing. Don't let your teacher take them, make sure you keep them."

"Dad…" Terry sighed in mild embarrassment.

"All right, all right… I'll go get the sleeves." He admired the posters once more before leaving down the corridor.

"I bet he's going to go upload them to his Macbook and put them on his university profile page," Terry snickered, "Such a dweeb."

I nearly said that it was better to have a dweeby dad than no dad at all, but I held my tongue. It had been seven years since Terry had lost his mother and it still remained a sore subject. He had only talked about it a handful of times to me, mostly after he had found out that she had been murdered. I had told him once that he should talk to my dad about it, or even Dick, but he had declined, "Men don't show weaknesses to other men."

"You are a boy."

"I," he had pounded his chest, "I am man."

He was the best.

While he carried the basket of markers, I took the scraps to the kitchen and threw them away. I then followed him upstairs in order to retrieve my book bag and coat. Finding him bent over at the waist, I noted he was carefully arranging the writing utensils in cups on a shelf, separating them by size. Not one to let an opportunity pass by, I quietly pulled a soccer ball out from under his desk and lofted it.

He yelped when it hit him in the behind, spinning around and declaring, "No playing ball in the house!"

I laughed at that and said, "OCD much?"

"Shut up…" he went back to work, "There are like five different tips for these markers, it's nice to be able to grab for the one you want and not get a fat Crayola."

I plopped onto his bed and asked, "You going to your grandma's for Thanksgiving?"

Terry nodded, "Yeah, for the whole vacation. Although it'll be nice to be in Arizona when everyone else is here freezing in Gotham."

Smirking, I countered, "You know you're going to get sunburn, right?"

He glanced to me, "Better than frostbite." After a beat, he asked, "What about you, are guys doing any vacations now that… everyone is okay?"

"I don't know… I kind of want to go to Colorado again, that was fun. Maybe you could come, you know, if we go again?"

"Really?" he asked. Task completed, he joined me on the bed.

I nodded, "Yeah, I'll ask my mom. I mean, I know Dad can't ski anymore, but Nathan and I had a lot of fun last time, and Mom did too." Thinking of how wonderful it had been that week two years earlier, I suddenly felt a cold stone settle in my stomach. My mother had obviously been upset with my father when I called earlier. They had fought once on that trip as well but they had pretended nothing had happened. I never found out what it had been about, but I had all intentions to find out what happened this time.

"Yoo-hoo?"

My concentration yielded as Terry drew my focus back. I shook my head, "Sorry, just thinking."

"We just thought for like… two hours… after thinking all day at school. You are cut off."

I raised my brow at him, "I can't think?"

"Nope. No thinking, just doing."

"Doing what?" I led on.

Since the incident at Jack and Dana's wake, we had been testing the depths of intimacy with one another. I had already told him that there was no way I was going to fall in line with my mindless classmates and had no intention of going all the way. After setting out my ground rules, he had lightened the mood by saying, "Don't worry. If saw your boob once, I'd probably go into catatonia."

I had never been pressured by my peers seeing how I had been blessed with deductive reasoning and the ability to tell right from wrong. My friends loved TV shows documenting teenagers dealing with life and pregnancy where I was disgusted by them. I knew I had been born out of wedlock, but my parents had been adults who were able to afford the time and money to raise a child. I was on the verge of no longer being friends with Piper because all she talked about was how she was going to be on Teen Mom with Marc someday.

Having learned about sex from school and my father's painful birds and the bees talk, I still found myself turning to my mother with questions. There was no way I was going to ever ask my dad about French kissing or what it felt like to be excited or what we could do that would be more than hand holding. Mom hadn't showed hesitation or any sign of discomfort and talked frankly with me about expressing love at a young age wasn't necessary but she understood the need. She knew I wouldn't let things get out of control or go too far, and that Terry was afraid enough of my father to keep in line.

I may have grown up as daddy's little girl, but as I was getting older, I found myself relying on Mom more and more.

Leaning in, I pressed my lips to Terry's, pursing them until he opened his. Turning to face him, I smirked as he began to recline against his pillows, never breaking the kiss. As I went with him, I partially rested on top of him, letting one leg slip between his while putting most of my weight on my side. One of Terry's arms slipped around my lower back while the other settled at my waist.

Somewhere in my mind, it registered that he had brushed his teeth since he had come upstairs.

Better safe than sorry…

Terry withdrew and spoke softly, "I change my mind, you're the best." Pulling back, I bit my lip and stared at him. A slight flush had risen to his cheeks and his respiration had elevated noticeably. Eyes wide, he asked, "How far away was your mom?"

"Not that far away," I snickered.

He leaned forward and kissed me again, letting his tongue seek out mine. I felt the hand at my hip move upward, slipping under my shirt and tracing the outline of my bra before cupping my breast. When I pushed myself into him, he moaned and his hips subconsciously started to rise, pushing my thigh to rub against his groin.

After a minute, he broke away, "Ohhh… Time out."

"You started it," I laughed as he readjusted the front of his jeans.

"Yeah yeah…" he sat up suddenly and waited for me to do so as well, "Sorry, just… I have to be able to go down and say goodbye to your mom when she gets here. Would hate to do it looking like this…"

"This is true… See, if you hadn't wasted so much time drawing scales… or putting markers away…"

He laughed at that, "Damn me and my attention to detail."

A car pulled up eight minutes later and Terry and I walked downstairs together. Just as the doorbell rang, I headed to the foyer while Terry followed, carrying my bag. Mom had done a good job reapplying her makeup but there was nothing she could do to hide the redness in her eyes. She thanked Dr. Miller profusely for picking me up from school and stepped in briefly to admire the posters. The entire time, she was trying to cover up her tense form with soft laughs and bright smiles.

Something was very wrong, but I waited until we were in the car before asking.

She didn't answer until we had reached the sign that said: Now Entering Gotham City.

^V^

Rearranging fifty year old photographs on the credenza in the drawing room, I paused when I heard a vehicle coming up the drive. Looking out the bay window, I watched on as Master Bruce rounded the bend in a glossy sedan, an hour earlier than expected. Seeing the backseat passenger, I was quick to conclude that young Master Nathan had been unable to complete the day at school. At breakfast, he had been unusually quiet and listless and his voice had been a bit off. Given the number of colds that bombarded the elementary school in the autumn months, it had only been a matter of time before one had taken hold of my youngest charge.

Father and son managed to enter and head upstairs before I was able to intersect them on the ground floor. Knowing it was a cough that had been brewing, I made my way to the kitchen briefly to scooped a small bowl of orange sorbet. Not only would it ease the suffering of the child, it was also one of his favorite treats. The mere clatter of spoon on the porcelain bowl had called forth two very hungry felines who were accustomed to earning a lap or two from Ms. Selina.

With an appeasing smile, I dismissed them and the dominant calico promptly swatted the younger black kitten as if to blame him for not receiving a treat.

Taking the elevator, I continued to the third floor bedroom, finding the door ajar and hushed voices within. Passing into the room, I sighed to see Master Nathan already wearing fresh pajamas and sitting upright in bed. Leslie was at his side taking his otic temperature while offering warm smiles and kind words. Master Bruce stood at his bedside, the dog at his feet looking from one Wayne to the other.

Master Nathan's face was red with fever and his short dark hair was in complete disarray. Even in such a sad state, he looked up at me and smiled before croaking, "Hi, Alfred."

"How are we fairing, Master Nathan?"

He coughed hoarsely, drawing the full attention of his father and his dog. The boy then replied, "Plaguey."

As Leslie removed the thermal reader from the boy's ear, she glanced at the display, "One-hundred and one. The Tylenol should kick in soon, but I'll go get him a damp washcloth."

When she took leave to the attached bathroom, I chose the vacant side of the bed to approach and make my offering of the cold treat. The boy's eyes lit up and he smiled, clearing his throat before thanking me. As he savored the first bite, I looked to Master Bruce, not surprised to see concern still covering every inch of his face. Although he had been ill an injured countless times, he had never taken well to seeing his children in the same state, both young and old.

I made the attempt to distract him, "Ms. Selina called a short while ago, said she was nearly home."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the boy's face as he replied, "Good. I called her earlier… told her I was picking him up from school." Pausing briefly as his son coughed quietly, Master Bruce then resumed, "Leslie is going to culture his throat, make sure it's not Strep."

"A wise decision."

"What's Strep?" Master Nathan inquired before licking at his spoon.

His father replied, "It's an infection, makes you have a sore throat and fever like you have… you have to take certain medicine for it and then you'll be all better."

"Like the orange stuff?"

Master Bruce nodded, "Well, yes, cough syrup, but other medicine as well."

Seeming drained of energy, Master Nathan leaned into his pillows, "Yuck."

Leslie returned, handing me the cold, damp wash cloth to place on the fevered brow of her patient. As she searched through her medical bag as it sat on the foot of the bed, she began to explain the swab procedure to Master Nathan. How it would tickle the back of his throat and make him cough a little bit, but that it wouldn't hurt. The boy had looked up at me and I smiled with reassurance, "A cotton swab is no match for an offensive player such as yourself, young sir."

Although he had squirmed a bit, Master Nathan endured the culture and rather than fuss afterward, he asked if he could watch a movie. I knew that Leslie would promptly examine the sample she had taken in the Cave and that Master Bruce would surely stand by peering over her shoulder the entire time. Offering to sit with him until they returned, I added, "Only one request, Master Nathan?"

"What?" he replied hoarsely.

"No films involving transforming robots."

He rolled his eyes before informing me for the hundredth time, "They're called Transformers, Alfred."

"Nevertheless, sir… I abhor technology as it is, I need no further encouragement."

Given that Miss Mattie already had a small entertainment area set up in her sitting room, Master Nathan had inherited the flat screen television and Blu-Ray player that had been used for the duration of his father's bed rest earlier in the year. Riddled with parental controls and timers to make sure the system shut off at bedtime, it was a treasured possession for the six-year-old. He had a large collection of videos that he seemingly never grew tired of watching, many of them computer animated. Although he enjoyed reading with his parents, he much preferred to lose himself in a film, sitting tucked in between them on a couch.

Much like a six-year-old boy that had once lived in the Manor many, many years ago.

We were through the first twenty-five minutes of one of the Toy Story films when Leslie returned, along with Ms. Selina who had finally returned from the Preserve. She was quick to sit on the bed with her son, kissing the crown of his head. Hearing the diagnosis, I hadn't been the least bit surprised. It certainly presented like Strep throat, a curable but insufferable condition, thankfully one that departed nearly as quickly as it surfaced.

Upon inquiring as to the whereabouts of Master Bruce, Ms. Selina responded, "I sent him to the drug store to get his medicine and some more cough drops and cough syrup."

Knowing how Master Bruce abhorred running errands on his own, I nodded slowly, "Ah."

"Don't worry, I sent him with a list… Although I should have him get some Vitamin Water as well…" I watched as she retrieved her cell phone, quickly typing a message before sending it. Returning her attention to her child, she kissed his brow again before taking the wash cloth to rewet it.

Leslie smiled down at me, "Too bad Dr. Wayne isn't in."

Ms. Selina smiled as she returned, "Actually, I have to pick her up in a little while… figured I would wait until Bruce got back that way he can sit with Nate."

After a brief coughing spell, Master Nathan announced, "Dad said he was going to watch the football game with me."

"Good… hopefully the game doesn't run too long, you need to get some rest, baby," Ms. Selina sat beside him once more, gently arranging the cloth on his forehead.

While packing up her bag, Leslie offered, "I'll check his temp in an hour or so. Other than that, you are hear by ordered to lay in bed, watch movies and eat whatever doesn't hurt your throat."

Master Nathan smirked before looking to me, "Is there any more sorbet?"

Taking the used bowl and spoon, I followed Leslie out of the room and towards the elevator at the end of the corridor. I depressed the second floor button in order to let her off at our quarters before trekking down to the ground floor. As I made my way to the kitchen, I was surprised once again to see Master Bruce coming up the drive, earlier than expected. Scooping the sorbet, I listened intently as the service door open but was put off when it slammed shut.

Rather than the usual order of sounds, namely hanging his jacket on the coat rack or removing his snow sodden shoes before further entering the house, I heard Master Bruce stomp right by the kitchen and into the hall. Holding off on calling out to him, I left the bowl on the counter and moved to peer out the open archway. I was shocked to see he had already made it to the elevator, the bags from the drug store clenched in a fist.

"Master Bruce, is everything all right?"

He turned to glare at me, "After I'm done with them, you're next."

"Sir?"

When the gilded car arrived, he ripped back the door and strode in, angrily punching at the button controls.

"Oh dear," I muttered as went about retrieving the sorbet. Before heading back upstairs, I prepared a carafe of ice water and retrieved a glass. Carrying everything on a small tray, I quickly walked over to the elevator and awaited its descent.

Arriving once more to the third floor, I was met with angry growls, their volume barely contained. Master Bruce towered over Ms. Selina and Leslie and he snapped at them, shoving a small item in their faces that was difficult to decipher from a distance. As I closed in on the feud, I heard him growl, "-do you think you are, prescribing them without asking me?"

Leslie calmly replied, "Selina came to me, how was I supposed to know she hadn't discussed it with you?"

"Because, Leslie," he barked, "If she had, you wouldn't have been asked to do it!"

"Master Bruce," I cut in.

His angry gaze flew to me, "And you, of all people, not to tell me-."

Leslie offered a defense, "He didn't know, Bruce."

Upon pausing beside Leslie, I finally recognized the small plastic case of birth control pills, presumably belonging to Miss Mattie seeing how her mother had no physiological need for them. As Master Bruce prepared to unleash further verbal assault, I spoke, "If you wish to further berate your wife and Dr. Thompkins, please do it out of hearing range of your ill son, sir."

He glared at me again, a look known to have made the scum of Gotham plead for their mothers. Without warning, he handed me the plastic bag, "Give these to Nathan." Returning his focus to Ms. Selina, "Let's go."

"Excuse me?" she snapped as he turned to walk towards their bedroom.

"This discussion isn't over," he explained, making a mild attempt at lowering the aggression in his tone.

Never one to back down, Ms. Selina threw her hands in the air, "Why bother having a discussion, Bruce, you've obviously made up your mind on the matter, interesting considering you haven't bothered to listen to a damned thing Leslie and I have said."

"I listened," he leaned closer to her, "I listened as you told me you went behind my back to get my daughter birth control!"

"Our daughter," she leaned towards him, showing no sign of backing down.

I felt the strong urge to step between them, but feared being struck out by both husband and wife. With steel nerves, Leslie decided to disregard her own welfare, pushing her way between them and staring up directly at Master Bruce's reddened face. It took her poking him in the middle of his chest for him to actually recognize her presence.

"Bruce… your wife came to me in confidence knowing you would overreact, just as you are right now."

"Overreact? You prescribed her-!"

Leslie cut him off, poking him in the chest again while raising her own voice, "Yes, I prescribed her medication to help make her menstrual cycles more regular and to help control her adolescent hormones. In now way did I prescribe them to her to have sexual intercourse at the age of thirteen."

Seemingly ignoring the fact that either myself or Ms. Selina were in his presence, Master Bruce's eyes never left the aged face before him. She used his full attention to make one final point before turning to leave, "Now, you have a sick son who has a fever and a sore throat. Why don't you spend your time and energy making him feel comfortable as opposed to a senseless domestic dispute?"

As she made her way towards the stairs, I was surprised to see Ms. Selina following her without looking back. If she had, she would have seen the apologetic look that replaced the furious one on her husband's face. He took three strides after her, calling out, "Selina, wait."

"Don't!" she shouted upon reaching the stairwell.

A silent moment passed before his broad shoulders slumped, followed shortly by his turning back to face me. The features on his face hardened slightly, belying the defeated look in his eyes as he asked, "You had no idea?"

"I swear, sir."

He proposed another question, "I'm not entirely wrong, am I? Being upset?"

Not wanting to lie to him, I offered, "You are not entirely wrong, sir… You are not entirely correct, either."

If that was what he wanted to hear, he showed no sign of it as he offered no thanks.

If that wasn't what he wanted to hear, he made no issue with it, opting to take the tray from me before walking into his son's bedroom.

^V^

With the volume on the television lowered, Dick entering the apartment sounded like a heard of elephants. I quickly navigated from the living room where I had been sorting laundry and snapped my fingers once I was in the hall. He looked up at me as he kicked his shoes off and whispered, "What?"

"Shh."

Setting his briefcase down along with a pair of white plastic bags, he mouthed quietly, "Shh yourself."

As I approached him, I spoke softly while still evoking authority, "You shh. He just went down for a nap."

"Just?" he asked, looking to his watch before picking up his belongings, "It's almost three."

"I know, but he didn't wake up until eight-thirty."

Dick shook his head, "I told you not to let him sleep in."

"Hey," I wagged a finger at my husband, "He sleeps in, I get to sleep in. I get to sleep in, I can portray my cheery disposition during the daylight hours."

After a moment of contemplation, Dick agreed and leaned in to kiss my cheek, "Good point."

Following him into the kitchen where it was safe to speak at a normal volume, I asked, "What's in the bags?"

Dick set them on the counter before resting his briefcase on the floor, "Surprises." When he caught me raising a brow in silent inquiry, he clarified, "Will finally confessed his secret taco salad dip recipe, figured I'd give it a shot."

"As long as the shot doesn't turn into a ka-boom," I smirked.

I know he had been harping on Will about it for several years for the secret that he held close to his heart. It had started shortly after Will had joined the Firm, bringing in a platter of the dip to share with Dick and my father. My husband had instantly been addicted and demanded to know the recipe. Will, always one to tease and poke fun at his colleague, had found it too much fun to refuse Dick and then observe the resulting antics. I had simply tasted the dish once to know that instead of using corn tortilla chips, Will used Salsa Verde Doritos.

After confirming my suspicions, Will had sworn me to secrecy which was easy considering I also enjoyed watching my husband suffer for pointless reasons.

As Dick unloaded his bounty onto the counter, he asked, "So, dear, how was your day?"

"Not bad, actually. Made some headway on the Blu Flu gang's whereabouts thanks to the tags Tim's been planting." Since his encounter with their lieutenant on Halloween, Tim had been systematically hunting down members of various importance and tagging tracers on them. Each tracer had sporadically crossed the city as the thugs went about their normal routines but after two weeks, they had all finally visited the same location at least once. It was an eight unit condo in the East End, owned under the name of the late Blu Flu leader Arnold Stewart.

"So it's going to be a fun night, I take it…" he smirked as he shed his blazer and rolled up his sleeves, a feat that would have been agony months earlier but had finally become a meaningless task. As he began washing his hands, he added, "Explains why Tim and Cass cut out early from work… here I thought they were just being lazy like me."

"You left Will there alone?" I asked.

Dick shook his head, "No, once he saw that the rest of us were playing hooky for the afternoon, he decided he had some DV-R and sleep to catch up on. He seemed happy to head out early… must be why he finally confessed his secret recipe to me…"

"Must be," I replied. Thinking of another person who had called it a day early, I said, "Selina called a little while ago, said Nathan came home sick from school."

"Bummer," Dick retrieved the cutting board and a chipping knife, "Good thing he got sick after football season or else we would have had a mini-Bruce out there… trying to defy the odds of medicine by will powering through it."

"I was thinking that it was a good thing we didn't take Ethan up there this weekend to play."

"Right," he turned to face me, "That too."

As he began rinsing produce, I offered to help chop vegetables and he obliged, admitting he could never dice tomatoes as well as I. For the last five months, we had participated in more domestic normalcy than we had throughout the duration of six years of marriage. Having him home after being shot had been worrisome at first, but he had learned to tone down his ever abundant energy, directing most of it to the care of Ethan. As a result, most of our alone time had turned to conversations reflecting family, friends and work.

Thankfully, his impending return to his former nightlife had opened the door to discussions of extracurricular activities.

"Jim get back to you?" Dick asked as he brought me a colander of Romaine lettuce.

I nodded, "Yeah. He said he was going to come out the entire last week of November."

Dick went back to the counter, battled with the baby lock on the cupboard and then retrieved a large skillet. He glanced back to me as he set it on the stove, "Maybe we can dress Ethan and Sarah up as pilgrims."

"Well, not this year. Mo and Sarah are going to stay in Chicago for Thanksgiving."

"For serious?" he arched a brow at me, "I thought they had a good time when they came out for Halloween?"

"They did," I reassured him, "It's just that Mo wants to spend it in Chicago."

Dick nodded slowly, "And Jim Jr. doesn't want to miss coming out for Jim Sr."

The second anniversary of losing Dad was approaching. The last holiday we had shared before he had succumbed to cancer had been Thanksgiving. The first and last official Gordon one, he had called it. Jim, Mo and Sarah had still been living in Gotham and instead of celebrating at Wayne Manor, we had shared dinner together in town. That wasn't to say we didn't spend any time with the Family that day, as Alfred had arranged for everyone to attend brunch at the Manor.

It had been the last time Bruce had spent time my father.

I never had the courage to ask what their last exchange had been in fear that it had been along the lines of, "I'll see you later."

Drawing my thoughts to the present, I proceeded to coarsely chop the lettuce, "It's fine, though. No need to drag Mo through the process of flying back to the city she loathes so much so soon."

"Loathes is such a strong word," Dick smirked as he crumbled bits of ground beef into the warming skillet. He looked over his right shoulder at me, "Think they are still figuring things out?"

"Well, to go from blissfully happy to hospitalized is a bit of a strain on any relationship," I noted, "But love conquers all."

"Love…" Dick agreed while taking a glass bottle out of the grocery bag, "And chipotle." when he caught me staring at him, he added, "It's the secret ingredient."

"To what? Irritable Bowel Syndrome?"

"Will said it was-."

I shook my head, "No, trust me, it's not."

Upon explaining how he had been duped, Dick glared out across the room, "Damn you, Bill the Butcher."

Laughing, I countered along the theme of Dick's revered movie, "Easy there, Amsterdam."

We resumed preparing the dish, loosely making plans for when Jim came out. Aside from Thanksgiving dinner at the Manor, I wanted to set aside a day to honor Dad in full force. His favorite meals, watching ridiculous movies from my youth that he used to watch with me endlessly and of course visiting him at the cemetery. I made weekly treks to make sure his plot was tidy and that he had fresh flowers, often finding a single, bare rose already in place…

"I was thinking about going out tonight."

It took me a moment to not only shed my thoughts, but realize what Dick had said and what his words meant. Collecting diced tomatoes, peppers and onions into a mixing bowl, I wiped my hands and the knife on a hand towel, "Oh?"

He kept his eyes on the stove top where he was browning hamburger, "Yeah."

"When did you decide this?" I asked, more curiosity than concern in my voice.

Dick waited to respond until after he had taken the skillet off of the burner, "Today. Yesterday. Last week. I don't know."

I offered him a warm smile as he finally turned to look at me, but said nothing.

When he sat across from me at the small kitchen table, he sighed heavily as his eyes fell to his lap, "I just… I can't lay in bed at night… staring up at the ceiling. I can't… read about what they do in the morning paper." When his gaze rose to meet mine, he concluded, "I can't wait any longer."

Shaking my head, "Patience was never one of you strong points."

"I'm not kidding, Babs."

After a moment, I nodded, "I know."

Exhaling loudly, Dick gripped the edge of the table with both hands, flexing his shoulders simultaneously. When he caught me staring, he said, "I don't think it's going to get any better."

I was about to remind him how far he had come since his shoulder had literally been blown apart by the Joker's point blank shot but a tone sounded from my mobile device. Retrieving it, I was surprised to see it was notifying me that a car had gained access to the first floor garage. The ID pass identified the vehicle belonging to Bruce Wayne, odd considering he was home with a sick child.

"What is it?" Dick asked.

The security cameras in the garage were motion sensors, following the sedan as it parked in one of the guest spots. I cued the nearest one to zoom in before replying ,"Selina and Mattie are here."

"For serious?" he asked, rising to his feet in order to look over my shoulder. When I showed him the display, he commented, "Hunh."

We watched on the small hand held device as Selina quickly crossed the pavement with Mattie making an effort to keep up. As they approached the elevator doors, a different camera brought up a visual of their faces as Selina pressed the call button. I granted them access while speaking into the microphone, "Hey, what's up?"

Selina exhaled forcibly, her nostrils and eyebrows broadcasting her anger loud and clear, "I need an intervention."

Without another word, they stepped into the car and started the ride up. I glanced to Dick as he remained beside me.

"Seeing how she is most likely angry at a member of the male species… I'm going to make myself scarce. I'll be hiding with a half-eaten animal cracker under the couch if you need me."

He actually turned and left, leaving me to quietly call out, "Dick, what about this mess?"

Knowing I wouldn't speak any louder for fear of waking Ethan, Dick snickered, "Victory," before making his way out of earshot.

The front door opened a moment later to hushed voices and quick footfalls. I moved out into the hall in order to once again announce that Ethan was sleeping. The cameras had not exaggerated the emotions on Selina's face, although her daughter had managed to put on a smile.

"Dick's in the den, if you want to beat him at Wii Mario Kart."

Mattie smirked, "My pleasure."

Alone with her mother, I opened my mouth to ask what was going on when she stormed by me and into the kitchen. Following her, I found she had already crossed the room, setting her hands on the counter, gripping on as if it were for dear life. After a silent minute, I finally asked, "So…"

Without looking at me, Selina replied, "I need a way to kill him and make it look like an accident."

There was no need to ask who the subject was, "What did he do?"

Without warning, she turned and faced me, "All I asked him to do was to pick up the prescriptions at the drug store-."

"For Nate?"

"Well, yes. And then while he was there, to get the rest of ours… I knew it was a bad idea… God forbid he simply just pick up a bag without verifying every single item in it. I should have never asked him to-."

"Selina?"

"What?" she snapped.

"What is going on?"

After finally taking a seat, she shook her head, "Bruce saw that Mattie had a prescription for orthotrycyclen. One he didn't know she had."

"Please tell me he is sedated and chained upside down somewhere… or at least that poor Terry is in Witness Protection."

That brought a softness to Selina's face briefly, "Regrettably neither." She drew a long breath before starting again, "Mattie came to me in June, asking if she could start taking it… not for the contraceptive purpose but you know."

"I know."

"Anyway, since discussing our daughter's irregular periods was obviously not a priority over him recovering from nearly dying, I asked Leslie to prescribe it to her without consulting him. Problem solved, no harm done."

"Until now," I said softly.

"Until now," Selina echoed. After shaking her head, she continued, "I have seen him angry. I have seen him pissed off. This was… a whole new level."

"Well naturally."

"Naturally?" she asked.

I thought it was odd that Selina hadn't made the connection herself, but whenever she and Bruce fought, especially over the inconsequential, logic and reason were no longer in play. I decided the least I could do was point her in the right direction, "He has spent your entire relationship trying to protect you from things by not telling you about them. For the first time in decades, the tables have turned. You are trying to protect him."

Realization dawned on her, softening her gaze and letter her mouth open slightly. After a pause, she whispered, "I hate you sometimes."

"No, you don't."

"No," she shook her head, "I don't. But damnit… now I have to apologize."

"I wouldn't say that. He's earned the right to suffer after all of the times he's held out on you." I waited a beat before adding, "Hey, why don't you two stay for a while, Dick and I were making Will's infamous taco dip."

Finally, a grin spread over her face, "What's that proverb… He who suffers much will know much?"

I smiled back, "I prefer We create our fate every day… most of the ills we suffer from are directly traceable to our own behavior."

Stifling a laugh, she asked, "Put that on an 'I'm Sorry But Not Really' card for me, would you?"

Quoting her daughter from moments earlier, I nodded, "My pleasure."

^V^

I had no idea what to expect upon my second return to Wayne Manor.

Coming home from the Preserve earlier, I had anticipated a long night of taking care of my ill son and doing my best to make him feel better. Seeing the concern in Bruce's face and hearing our baby boy was stricken with Strep had been worrisome, but I knew our combined efforts would put him on the mend. Sending Bruce to the pharmacy had been a way to help give him a task to focus on, something that always helped him when he was troubled.

Little had I known that the very gesture would have ruined the rest of the evening.

When Bruce had returned from the drug store, I had been sitting with Nathan on his bed, keeping the washcloth cool on his brow and trying not to cringe when he coughed hoarsely. Leslie had been due shortly to take his temperature again, and when footsteps had sounded in the hall, I had leaned over and kissed Nathan's brow.

"Ready for another ear poke?"

He had smirked up at me, putting a great deal of effort into wiggling his ears the smallest amount, "Yep." We both had looked to the door, Nathan greeting his father's surprise appearance with, "Dad, I'm going to watch all of the Toy Story movies."

Bruce had barely recognized the salutation, crossing the room with his eyes boring holes in my skull. He had muttered softly, "We'll be right back, Nate," before roughly grabbing my arm and leading me to the doorway. My response should have been a sold right hook to Bruce's jaw, but I had restrained myself until we were in the corridor.

"What the hell is going on?"

In a growl I hadn't heard since the night the Joker killed Helena Bertinelli, Bruce had snarled, "I don't know, you tell me."

When he had reached into the pharmacy bag, I had suddenly known why he was so upset. As he started yelling at me for coercing our daughter into a promiscuous lifestyle, Leslie had arrived only to be berated as well. We both had diligently tried to calm him with an explanation, but his tone and his brow only fell lower with anger. At one point, he had gone as far as snapping at me that I was being irresponsible with our daughter's life. Alfred had managed to offer a brief enough of a distraction for Leslie to finally get between the two of us, but the damage was done.

Without looking back, I had followed Leslie downstairs, storming off towards the service entrance. After blindly grabbing a random coat off of the rack, I snatched a set of keys in the garage and made my way to the sedan. Settling in the driver's seat, I had suddenly became aware of it still being slightly warm and the faint smell of Bruce's cologne lingering in the air. It had been the car he had just driven.

Speeding down the drive, I had forced myself to take deep breaths and try and focus on anything but the look on Bruce's face from moments earlier. We fought all of the time, but mostly for the sport of it. The last time we had honestly had a huge blowup had been when Bruce found out that the Joker knew his identity, courtesy of Helena's last words and the Old Joke that had been left in her bloodied hand. Bruce had raced back home from the Clocktower, promptly informing me that I was to pack for myself and the kids and that we were going into hiding.

That morning, it had been Alfred who had saved the day, anonymously returning from Africa and arriving just as our world was falling to pieces.

Then, I had understood why he had been so upset, knowing his greatest enemy would stop at nothing to get to him by hurting those he loved once again. But his screaming in my face that I was a bad mother for allowing Mattie to be on birth control without his consent was an entirely different story.

There had been no point in staying and arguing with him. He had needed to calm down and collect his thoughts and I had needed to get away so as to not claw his eyes out. Decades earlier whenever we had been at odds, I would have taken a trip to Europe or South America to give Gotham's dark knight time to put things in perspective. My absence on the rooftops must have been duly noted in his activity logs, perhaps with little personal notes reflecting upon our last encounter. Back then, he had always tried to keep things professional, where I had crossed boundary after boundary to see that it was kept anything but.

While en route to Terry's to pick Mattie up, I had been pulled over for going fifty-seven in a forty-five mile per hour zone. I had gladly accepted the speeding ticket, thanking the officer to the point that he must have been tempted to run a field sobriety test. After he had handed the dreaded slip of paper to me and reviewed protocol to either pay the fine or contest the charge, my cell had chirped from my pocket. Seeing how the five minute drive to Terry's had turned into nearly fifteen minutes, I had not been surprised to see Mattie's name on the display.

I had promptly answered, "I'm sorry, I'm on my way."

"What's wrong?" she had asked.

Not knowing if I had even wanted to tell her about the latest upheaval at home, let alone over the phone, I had replied, "Nothing… just… I'm just leaving here. Be about fifteen minutes."

"Mom?"

"Nothing… just your father-."

Mattie had cut me off, "What happened?"

"He's fine. At least until I kill him, he'll be fine," I had offered, "Listen, I'll be there soon. Okay?"

There had been a brief pause before she had said, "Okay, see you soon."

Finally making it to Terry's, I had put on a smile and came in for a moment to see the fruition of my daughter and her boyfriend's hard work. Had I still not been seeing red from my fight with Bruce, I would have been able to note how remarkable the artwork on the posters were. I probably would have had the same look of pride on my face as the one beaming from Dr. Miller's. Thanking him again, I had escorted Mattie outside, not saying a word as we had gotten into the car.

"Mom, what's going on?" she had finally inquired.

I had remained silent as I navigated back through the township of Bristol and onto the county highway, completely bypassing the turn towards Wayne Manor. To my surprise, she hadn't repeated her question, simply remaining silent in the passenger seat with her eyes glued straight ahead. As we made it to the St. James parkway and crossed into the city limits, I had exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from my voice and shoulders.

Recounting the afternoon's activities, I had expected Mattie to turn red with embarrassment or completely withdraw upon hearing about the sugar-coated argument. Instead, her first reaction had been, "Is Nathan going to be okay?"

I had found myself smiling, "Yes, just a couple days in bed and some antibiotics. It's contagious though, so he's going to be holed up in his room for a while."

"When he gets better…he's going to be bouncing off the walls until he's released back into the wild."

I had laughed softly, "Yes… yes he will."

Six minutes later, we had passed the first sign declaring the approaching Tri-Corner exit. Mattie had looked to me and asked, "Are we going to the Clocktower?"

I had nodded, "I figured I would give Dad some time to rethink his position on the matter. That and we haven't seen Barbara and Dick since last weekend."

"I saw her on the monitor last night," Mattie had smirked.

"All right, smarty."

After a beat, she had finally asked, "Is he mad at me?"

"No, honey…" I looked to her before making my way into the right had lane, "He's mad at me and Leslie, even though he shouldn't be… We tried to explain everything to him but you know Dad."

"Yeah," she had said softly.

The visit to Barbara's had gone as expected. Her analytical mind rivaled Bruce's, making her a key ally in trying to find logic in arguments I had with him. While Mattie and Dick had feuded in the den, Barbara had listened briefly to my side of the story before being able to point out Bruce's. We had then joked back when I had been pregnant with Nathan hadn't even been on speaking terms with Bruce. He had missed the ultrasound determining our second born child's gender and when I had decided to learn it without his consent, he had been furious.

Barbara had been there to point out that Bruce never handled being out of the loop well, something that had only worsened since he had stepped down from being Batman.

We had stayed for dinner, of which would have earned us a thorough flogging from Alfred. Instead of a finely calibrated meal, we had settled on Will Cutting's very own taco salad along with a collection of appetizers that Barbara, Mattie and I had concocted. Dinning in the den, we had watched a movie with our finger foods, joined by a sleepy Ethan once he finally woke from his late nap. Dick had joked that it had nearly been the usual time for Ethan's bath and last diaper check, jokingly blaming his wife for the upturned schedule.

The look on my red-headed savior's face had urged Mattie to say, "Our cue to leave."

And despite the fact that I had all intentions of apologizing to Bruce, the ride home was filled with dread.

We pulled up the drive a little after eight-thirty, several windows lit in the great house. I pulled right into the garage and killed the ignition before looking to Mattie, "Well… probably should go straight to bed tonight, kiddo."

"Batten down the hatches?" she forced a smirk to her lips.

"Something like that."

She grabbed her backpack from the back seat before I secured the car for the night. As I hung the key back up in the lock box, Mattie went ahead of me and opened the door leading inside. In silence, we shed our shoes and coats and proceeded towards the corridor. Although the kitchen and nook were illuminated, there was no sign of human life. We proceeded towards the stairs, climbing them slowly with apprehension rather than exhaustion. At the second floor landing, Alfred appeared and greeted us, still wearing his dark slacks and green sweater.

"Ms. Selina," he nodded curtly, "And Miss Mattie, how did your educational pursuits fair you?"

"Good, we have everything done, just need to practice our presentation," she shifted her bag on her shoulder.

"Very good to hear," he smiled warmly before looking to me, "Master Nathan is feeling a bit better. Dr. Thompkins just administered him a final dose of Tylenol and cough suppressants for the evening."

I asked, "Is he asleep?"

Alfred shook his head slightly, "No, he wanted to watch the remainder of the football game, madam. The cursed Cowboys are up by three." I thanked him and bid him goodnight but before I took to climbing the final tier of stairs, he added, "Master Bruce, however, is sleeping. In Master Nathan's room."

"Thanks," I said again.

After seeing Mattie off at her bedroom door, I proceeded to Nathan's and wasn't surprised to find the door ajar. The bedside lamps were on as well as the glow of the television screen, each highlighting two sleeping figures. One was Bruce, his neck free of its tie with the shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, as he lay on top of the covers and the other was Ace as he sprawled over the foot of the bed. Nathan was sitting upright against the pillows, eyes glued to the TV as his tiny fists were clenched in front of him, barely able to contain his excitement. It took a minute before he spotted me at the door and when he did, he grinned, "They scored, Mom."

"See, they must have known you needed some cheering up," I replied before entering and taking a seat beside him. I watched the instant replay with him before my eyes fell to Bruce's too peaceful face. Somehow, I resisted the urge to reach out and rake my claws over it.

Movement brought my gaze to Nathan as he unscrewed the top of a vitamin water bottle. When he caught me looking, he explained, "Dad forgot about my juice… but he went back out and got it for me."

"That was nice of him…" I paused before asking, "You want me to wake him up, get him out of here?"

Nathan wiped his upper lip after a hefty gulp, "He said he was going to sleep with me tonight."

"Ah," I responded, not sure if I had hid the sadness in my voice well enough. I leaned over and kissed the top of Nathan's head, "Well, if he starts snoring, you wake him up and kick him out, okay? You need to get some rest tonight."

"Okay."

I showered, changed and lay awake in bed for two hours before I heard the door creak open. In the concealment of darkness, Bruce made his way into the bathroom, washed up and took his meds before returning towards the doorway. I cleared my throat as he reached for the knob and said, "Not so fast."

He didn't seem surprised that I was awake, "He's been coughing on me all night, might as well stay in the sick ward."

Pushing myself to sit up in bed, I patted the empty space beside me, the space he should have been already asleep and snoring in. After a heavy sigh, he walked over, turning on the lamp before carefully taking a seat facing me. He went to speak but I beat him to it, "You were a shitty husband this afternoon."

"Selina, I-."

I cut him off again, "You were a shitty husband this afternoon… but… it was because you were being a good father."

He didn't have a response to that and remained silent.

"You know her, Bruce. You know how we've raised her. You know she would never do something like that… something that would risk all that she's working towards…" When he kept quiet, I continued, "And I know I should have told you. And I'm sorry I didn't."

"You have no reason to be sorry," he finally admitted, "You didn't tell me because you knew I would overreact. And when you finally did, I overreacted. Ergo, you were right, I was wrong."

Strep throat or not, I leaned forward and kissed him softly, "And?"

"And… I'm sorry."

I kissed him again.

He continued, "But in my defense-."

I kissed him a third time.

After a while, he withdrew and said, "Never mind. Forgot what I was going to say… short term memory and all."

^V^

"Are you staring… at your biceps?"

I glanced up to the monitor in the Cave to see Barbara's enlarged image scrutinizing me. Rolling my left shirt sleeve down, I defended, "No… monitoring bruise progression."

"Right… and you needed tickets to the gun show to do that?" she smirked.

"Ha ha…" I pulled the sleeve back up to reveal five day old mottling. She made an empathetic face as I commented, "This is actually a lot better looking than my side."

"Is that from the truck hitting you?" she asked.

Nodding, I said, "Yeah. Cass has been on my case since last Thursday, doing yoga, compresses and massage. Seems to be helping."

"You were lucky you didn't break anything."

"Luck? I call it skill," I beamed up at her.

In actuality, it had been a combination of both. My two week binge on tracking down and frightening Blu Flu members had a small hiccup when one had panicked. Instead of acting in accordance with typical encounters with a tall, dark brooding vigilante, the suspect had faked fleeing in order to abruptly take the offense. It had been a grand scale game of Frogger as he tried running me down with his Escalade, backed with police grade tires and expert hand eye coordination. Needless to say, while I had been unable to blow out his tires, he had been able to maneuver the large vehicle whilst shooting at me.

In the end, I had settled for smashing through the windshield, but that had been an afterthought to his clipping my side at forty-five miles per hour. Although the driver had suffered numerous broken bones after I forced him to crash into an alley, I had escaped with strained muscles and bruises in the pattern of his chrome grille. Dick had joked at work earlier in the week that it certainly beat tread marks from tires.

That it had.

Barbara then asked, "Where's Cass, beating up your protégé?"

I shook my head while sitting back into the chair, hoping the heating pad on my side wasn't visible, "No. She's suiting up. Mattie didn't come down tonight."

"Ah, that makes sense."

"It does?"

"Selina and Mattie dropped by tonight for a bit, stayed for dinner then went home."

"Wait, just Selina and Mattie dropped by?"

"Well," she paused to adjust her glasses, "Nate has Strep, so Bruce stayed home with him."

There was more to it, but I didn't verbally press for it. Instead, I ignored her as I started mapping out patrols based on her findings from the Blu Flu tracers, only giving quiet nods of affirmations. After fifteen minutes, she sighed, "Fine… I'll confess."

"Confess to what?" I fought back a smirk.

She laughed softly before admitting that Bruce and Selina had a fight and the latter had come to the all-knowing Oracle for some perspective. When I asked what the fight had been about, she explained, "Bruce picked up Nathan's meds at the pharmacy and picked up the ones for the rest of the Family. Including Mattie's."

"So?"

"So… apparently, she is on the pill."

"The… Oh," I let my brow rise slightly, "Wow. Surprised the Manor isn't on fire."

"Yeah. It was more for symptomatic reasons instead of contraceptive but Bruce naturally lost it and went Crazy-Bat on Selina."

"Who no doubt countered with Crazy-Cat…"

"Exactly… She never called when she got back to the house… she's probably burying his body in the rose garden as we speak."

I smirked as Dick came onto the screen as well, "Nah, it's too much work to dig in the frozen ground… she would just take him out in the woods… feed the cold, woodland critters."

"You are awful, all of you," I heard Cass remark as she crossed the platform towards me.

"Selina's a dirty fighter, we all know that. When push comes to shove, shove comes to mrraaawr!" Dick pantomimed a swipe of a clawed paw.

"Anyway," I said loudly, "I'm going to do surveillance after midnight, seems to be when there is a lull at their center of operations. Maybe try and get some cameras placed on the interior."

"Want some help?" Dick asked.

I made no attempt to hide the surprise in my voice, "Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat, "Figured it was a good night to stretch my wings so to speak. That and I finally lost all of my immobilization period belly flab so I fit back in my tights without a muffin top."

Barbara promptly reached around and viciously pinched Dick's hip, "Not so sure about that. Not after all that taco dip tonight."

It was always difficult to discern Dick's levity and gravity, especially when it came to serious issues. The smirk on his face contradicted the intensity of his eyes, making me lean towards the idea that he was on the level. Even still, I asked, "Seriously?"

He dropped the smirk, "Yeah, I mean, at least for an hour or two. Nothing suicidal, you know."

"If he does this, he has a list of restrictions," Barbara cut in. "No jumping from buildings higher than three stories, no extended d-cel line navigating, no taking on more than two assailants, no el-train tag, no lifting objects over fifty pounds, no-."

"Strictly backup," I surmised.

"Exactly," she nodded in agreement.

"What am I, twelve again?" Dick asked.

"You still laugh at the word duty," Barbara glanced up at him.

He managed to keep a stern look on his face for an entire thirty seconds before snickering, "Duty."

We agreed to meet at midnight at the Free Clinic before making our way to the unofficial gathering spot of the Blu Flu boys. After signing off, I turned the chair to face Cass, "And then there were three."

"He's not ready," she replied without hesitation.

"It won't hurt to get his feet wet."

"It won't?"

"Nope. Besides, if he gets too cocky, I'll knock him out and drag him home."

She rolled her eyes, "Okay…"

Rising to my feet, I hid the stiffness in my left side and took a step towards her, "Fine, you can knock him out, I'll drag him home."

She headed out a minute later, leaving me to suit up in solitude. Given the low for the evening, I opted for the triple weave thermal leggings and tunic to line the body armor and suit. The cape made for a mild source of warmth when wrapped around my figure, a luxury Dick would not have that night. I was pulling on the boots when I heard a faint noise in the main floor. Quickly checking the compartments for their contents, I mused that my student had opted to check in after all.

Grabbing the under tunic I had yet to put on, I stepped out of the costume vault, "Did you bring me any taco dip?"

Bruce stood just to the left of the chair by the computer, "Afraid not."

"Sorry, thought you were Mattie," I walked over and carefully pulled the shirt on.

"What's that from?" he nodded to my black and blue side and shoulder.

Adjusting the sleeves, I replied, "Oh, you know. Physics. Two objects can not occupy the same place at the same time. Namely my body and the front of a Cadillac Escalade."

Although I was smirking, Bruce opted to frown.

It had been two weeks since I had received the letter from Talia, two weeks that I had been keeping my own secret from Bruce. In all honesty, it had taken that amount of time too verify the handwriting with notes on file in the crays. Most of the time had been spent unearthing and cracking into two decade old love letters Talia had written Bruce when he had worked briefly alongside Ra's. I had, however, disclosed the letter to Cass and Barbara, and shortly after to Dick. My reasoning had been to find all of the facts and then present them to Bruce once I was certain.

After hearing about his afternoon with Selina, I quickly decided it was poor timing to tell him my little secret.

"We're going try and get some audio visuals at the Blu Flu house. See if we can get some of these guys in action."

"It seems to be a waste of manpower to have both you and Cassandra performing a single task."

It was a statement of fact, not a suggestion or even a remote inquiry.

It must have been one hell of a fight…

"Well, actually, Dick was going to put in a few hours tonight, test the waters a bit." Something happened to the frown on his face, making it a look that belonged half concealed by a cowl. Trying to cover for my big brother, I lied, "He literally just decided while we were talking a minute ago."

Bruce exhaled before responding, "It's his choice. No one else's."

When he turned to leave, I took a step after him, "Bruce… is everything all… I mean, did you need something?"

"It's nothing…" he paused to look at me briefly, "Remember, don't underestimate Stewart. He gets into a corner and he doesn't get desperate."

"He gets angry," I added. The Blu Flu had been around since before I donned my first domino mask, openly fronted by a barrage of fall guys, most of which were in Blackgate rotting away life sentences. Truthfully, it had been run by Glen Stewart and his twin brother, Arnold. Tragically, Arnold had died in a shootout with the police shortly before Bruce had given me the cowl. Bruce had tried to apprehend the gang leader his way, but SWAT and Special Crimes had seen fit to fill him full of lead.

Needless to say, the surviving Stewart brother had grown merciless in the seven years that followed.

"Well, hopefully I won't have to put the new Dragon Armor to test tonight."

"Hopefully," he said before leaving.

With Barbara giving me updates on who was arriving and departing from the residence in the East End, I navigated a good third of the city before midnight. The sub-freezing temperatures in the city had dipped lower than expected, leaving small-timers and muggers calling it a night. At ten of twelve, I landed on the roof of the Free Clinic, frightening away a few unsavory types by simply clearing my throat from above.

"Ahem," I heard from behind me.

Turning, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. It had been far too long since I had seen my ally in his trademark black and blue guise, especially considering what had happened to take him out of it. Rather than expressing emotion in light of the inspiring moment, I growled, "You lied. There is still residual muffin top."

He grinned at me, "Keep talking, Fat-man."

It was as if he had been away for a long weekend as opposed to nearly seven months. Leaving the Mobile to track us on the streets below, Nightwing and I traversed the rooftops, adhering to the literal translations of Barbara's orders. He wasn't straining his arm on grapple lines if he simply ran to the edge and leapt to the next building. We may have been several more stories higher than directed, but it wasn't as if he was jumping down from them.

I diligently tried not to evaluate his movements and efforts, but my eyes locked on to him all on their own. Although I had expected him to fatigue after twenty blocks, it seemed that he was only becoming more energized. His maneuvers grew more acrobatic and the smile on his face kept getting bigger. There was only the most minute amount of guarding his left arm, but he seemed comfortable and at ease.

Finally, I let myself smirk.

We spent a solid thirty minutes studying the building before making our way over to it. Lights were on the in first and second floors, but there was little activity inside. Much like my encounter on Halloween, my binoculars showed several men playing cards or being generally un-criminal. After a while, Nightwing grew antsy at my side and I muttered, "At least that hasn't changed."

He chided, "I've been sitting still since the end of April. Give a guy a break."

Ignoring his remark, I noted, "I count at least six on the ground floor. We can get things started on the third though. Most likely it's storage and sleeping quarters."

"Business in the front, party in the back," he commented.

I decide to let the façade slip for a moment, "So says the undisputed master of the mullet."

He gasped, "That hurts, man."

"I'll take the front. You can take the fire escape," I withdrew the grapple gun from my belt. When he reached for his own, I shook my head, "Fire escape."

"Seriously?"

"I could check in with Oracle, if you would prefer…"

He waved a black and blue glove at me, "All right, all right… jeesh."

Although we went our separate ways, we remained in audio contact, checking in with Morse code. While I snuck in through an unlocked window into a barren room, Nightwing complained at great length how there fire escape needed a power washing. I had never heard someone tap out "pigeon poop" on the Oracom before, or at least not so many times in a row.

Night vision ready, I was about to peer into the hall when I saw shadows coming up the stairwell, along with abundant laughs and a thunder of footsteps. Withdrawing back into the room, I contacted Nightwing to draw back and radio in Batgirl for help. His hushed voice came over the line, "What's wrong?"

I replied in Morse, Six hostiles. Coming to third floor.

"I'll be right up."

No. Strictly back up. So back up.

"Ass."

Dick, I replied before listening closely to the footsteps. The lights never came on in the hall and I heard them joking about tripping and falling in the dark. When bypassed the room I was in, I waited for the last one to walk by before reaching out and grabbing him by the throat, silencing him and dragging him to me. Rendered unconscious, I gently set him on the floor, binding his hands and feet before looking, pleased that no one seemed to notice he was missing.

One down, five to go. That was if those down below stayed put.

I followed them, my silent footfalls undetectable over their ruckus. They argued jokingly about who was getting to sleep where, and I couldn't help but muse that they would be going to sleep a lot earlier than they intended. Again, I snatched on to the last on of the group, clamping my hand over his mouth as my other arm looped around his throat, baring down hard enough to cut off most of his oxygen supply.

I whispered into his ear lowly, "Are they armed?"

He shook his head, trembling instead of fighting back. When I pressed the edges of my gauntlet into his flesh and asked again, he nodded. He confirmed that all three had semi-automatic handguns before I granted him with a solid blow to the head. By then the others had become aware that they were two less, one poked his head out into the hall while snickering, "Looks like Rob and Jake wanted some alone time..."

By the time he spotted me, it was too late. I charged at him, forcing my elbow into his chest and using him as a battering ram into the room. As the others shouted out, I finished him off with my other elbow connected to the side of the head before driving a hook to his temple. As he fell before me, I leapt over top of him and launched myself at the biggest threat, the only one who had the focus to withdraw his firearm.

He got a desperate, misaimed shot off before I grabbed him by the collar with one hand and slammed my fist in to his face, his gun falling from a limp hand. Agony rode up my arm, from the blow, reminding me to use my less injured right arm more. Leaving him to collapse to the ground, I ducked as the other two finally became ware of what was happening, frantically shooting at me until I killed the overhead light with a batarang. Their heavy breaths singled them out, making them easy targets even without the night vision.

That was until I saw a shadow in the window, belonging to someone who was told to stand down…

They had seen it as well, immediately shooting at the near invisible boogey man outside. I used the opportunity to emerge again, their attention on the best decoy in Gotham. A moment of silence passed and they looked for one another in the dark, regrettably, when they should have been looking for me.

I grabbed the one closest to the door, latching onto his gun wielding hand and bringing it down. He instantly fired it, embedding a bullet in the floor, his last conscious effort as I brought my left elbow into his temple. Something whizzed by me and I threw the body in my grip at the final assailant, hearing a thud as they scrambled to the ground. He fired his remaining bullets in every direction, hoping one of them would hit a living target.

It had, but that didn't stop me from waiting for the click of an empty cartridge to crush his wrist with my boot heel.

Nor did it stop me from rapidly touring the remainder of the building, planting sensors and recording devices as quickly as possible.

When I finally made it to the rooftop on the building across the street, Nightwing was there waiting for me, "Showoff. Called it into dispatch. Apparently the Blu Flu boys had a fight amongst themselves, banged each other up pretty bad."

"That they did…" I winced as I pulled back my cape, revealing a bloody tear over my bicep."

"Well, the two on the ground floor are taken care of as well, all within Babs' List o Rules," Nightwing eyed me for a moment before saying, "Let's get you to the Cave. I had the Mobile pull up out back."

"Free Clinic is closer," I growled.

He snickered, "You just don't want Alfred to lecture you."

I remained silent as we navigated to the Mobile, the adrenaline flooding my system giving way to throbbing in my arm. I took the driver's seat, refusing to use auto-pilot or for Nightwing to touch the wound on my arm. As we neared the parking lot behind the Clinic, Nightwing mused, "Well at least they didn't shoot me, Barbara would have killed you."

"And you."

Without warning, he reached over and patted my shoulder rough enough to force me to wince, "Ah, it's good to be back."

^V^