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...

7. Come What May: VII

Title: Come What May

Author: DC Luder

Summary: The Family confronts Talia and must debate whether or not to trust her.

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

Author's Note: References to Son of the Demon.

^V^

I had endured enough living nightmares in my forty-seven years to last me ten lifetimes.

Fourteen years earlier, I had cried myself to sleep thinking the only man I had ever loved had been slain by a drug dealer's bullet. Not long after, I had to take my then two-year-old daughter to the hospital to be treated for an asthma attack. Then, after being placated by normalcy for years, I had been overrun with images and footage of Dick killing a bank robber turned cop killer.

While my son-in-law celebrated his marriage with my dearest friend, my son had born two months premature, leaving him in a NICU incubator and me barren.

Somehow, I had stood by bravely as my husband endured cluster headaches and suffered the side effects from the radiation necessary to end them. Jim Gordon, a man who I had once loathed and had become Family to me, had been laid to rest days after he had sat at my table for Thanksgiving brunch. His son, future daughter-in-law and first born granddaughter had been attacked by a mad man while they slept in their beds. The same monster had put Will, Dick and Cass in gurneys and had also left my husband crippled, deaf and brain damaged.

And yet despite it all, the most horrifying thing that I had ever witnessed had been watching Bruce literally ripping at his flesh while trying to get rid of the dirt on his hands. No not just dirt, the soil that had presumably filled the grave of his adopted son, one who had been dead for twenty years…

"Bruce, stop it, your hands…" was the last thing I said before he lost it.

He was already more upset than I had seen him in years, his voice a low growl but his breathing anything but regular. His eyes glued down on his bloody hands, Bruce continued scrubbing and clawing at them despite my futile efforts of trying to pull them out of the sink. Tears were brewing in his eyes and I knew it wasn't from the pain.

Somehow, he managed to reply, his words as staggered as his breathing, "I can't… wash away the dirt. Should have… There's just too much… too much… blood."

There was a moment when I thought he was going to lean over the sink to regroup, but instead he collapsed to the floor, not even making an attempt to grab for the counter. I found myself gripping tighter on his arm, pulling as hard as I could against his two hundred pound frame. As expected, he ended up pulling me down with him but thankfully my efforts kept him crashing face first. He managed to fall to one knee before rolling onto his side, practically landing in my lap as I found myself sitting against the sink.

"Shhh," I kept repeating, wrapping my arms around his back and pulling him to me. At first, he had his face in my neck, his struggling breaths practically in my ear. Without him supporting his own weight, gravity finally pulled him down so that he lay flat out on the floor, his head in my lap. His back heaved with wet sobs as I felt my shirt grow damp, although I wasn't sure if it was from tears or blood.

"Ms. Selina, the children are… Oh heavens," Alfred's voice came from the bedroom. Belying his age, he swiftly ran into the bathroom grabbing a hand towel while looking for a seeping injury to place it on, "What's happened?"

Still defying the odds and remaining calm, I explained what had happened, unearthing Bruce's left hand as it was pressed against my abdomen. Alfred handed me the towel, his eyes practically bewildered at the sight before him. As I wrapped the ragged middle finger, he spoke barely above a whisper before leaving, "I'll fetch Leslie."

The three and a half minutes I spent waiting for him to return had been the longest in my life. I kept rubbing Bruce's back, each sob escaping his lips slicing right through me. He was the strongest man I had ever known, able to stand tall and brave against the greatest of tragedies. Without an ounce of self-doubt, he had protected Gotham for two decades, facing off with the worst of the underworld, a plague that had claimed hundreds of thousands of people and an earthquake that had leveled nearly every building on the skyline.

He would jump into a burning building when no other would, he would take on dozens armed men alone without blinking and would rather sacrifice himself than let harm befall a single human being.

But even the greatest of men had their weaknesses. And apparently it was having to dig up the grave of a teenaged boy, opening his coffin and finding it empty.

"Oh my," I heard Leslie say. She quickly entered the bathroom and took to kneeling behind Bruce's back, syringe and vial in hand. Alfred opted to remain standing, opening the black leather bag and waiting for direction from his other half.

Somehow, Bruce remained completely unaware as Leslie quietly spoke to him while pulling out a dose of five cc's. Although the sobs had lessened, his breathing was still coming in ragged breaths, almost as if he was on the verge of hyperventilating. As guilty as it seemed, I was grateful that I couldn't see his face, knowing it would have finally cut through whatever emotional armor I had left.

She leaned forward and pulled Bruce's left arm back in order to access the cuboidal vein. I kept a hold of the towel on his hand as she pressed the plunger, "I gave him lorazepam when he came in earlier. Obviously I underestimated how bad he was…"

"What's this?" I asked.

Leslie answered, "Hydroxyzine hydrochloride. Should take a couple of minutes to kick in but it will put him out for a few hours… God knows he isn't going to rest on his own anytime soon."

We watched in silence as the tension in his back slowly ebbed, Leslie waiting to examine his hand until he was comfortable. Within eight minutes, the only sound in the room was his long drags of oxygen. Leslie tentatively unwrapped the toweled hand, shaking her head at the dried blood. As he had been violently scrubbing it earlier, I had been unable to ascertain the extent of the damage, barely even noticing how much blood was everywhere.

"Alfred, can you-."

"Of course," Alfred nodded curtly before carefully searching through the bag, unearthing a blue cotton wrapped suture kit and a sterile saline irrigator. He held on to the kit as Leslie proceeded to don a pair of latex gloves. Taking the dispenser from him, she gently rinsed the wound on his middle finger.

I finally looked down, holding back a cringe as she said, "He's ripped this down to the bone, here on the knuckle…"

"It was just a scratch before… from the cat," I found myself explaining.

"Well, I'll flush it and dress it here but I want to get him into better lighting before I stitch it."

Alfred set the kit on the edge surrounding the tub, "I'll find Master Tim."

"He's still here?" I asked.

Pausing at the doorway, Alfred nodded, "He and Master Dick have decided to stay for the evening."

Opting out of patrols to watch over the Manor. To keep an eye on Talia. To be there for Bruce.

Good soldiers.

While waiting for Alfred to bring yet another figure in to see Bruce on the bathroom floor, I watched on as Leslie flushed the wound and packed it with wet gauze. I absently stroked my hand through his still damp hair, my fingers accidentally finding the knotted spot on the back of his head.

"Selina?"

"Hmm," I looked up at Leslie.

She offered a sad smile before saying, "I asked if he had any seizure activity, when he fell?"

For some reason, I whispered in response, "No… he… we were just talking and he… he just started… with his hands and I tried to stop him but…"

"It's okay," she gently set Bruce's arm down on his side, removing her latex glove before reaching out and touching my shoulder. After a beat, she continued, "We'll get him to bed, fix his hand, let him sleep through tonight… Start fresh in the morning."

"I hate to say it, but a good night's sleep isn't going to change anything."

"No… but it does help delay the inevitable."

I smirked and let my eyes fall back to Bruce, "Suppose that's true."

Tim and Alfred returned not a minute later, their silent concern suggesting that Alfred had had already explained matters. While Tim helped Leslie to her feet, I carefully slipped out from under Bruce, gently setting his head down as if not to wake him. Tim forced a smile and joked about Bruce needing to go on a diet as he hefted him up and into his arms. Despite being nearly thirty years old, I still saw Tim as the young boy I had once teased incessantly. Watching him lift Bruce and carry him out, putting him in bed for the second night in a row, there was no doubt that the boy was a man grown.

He opted to remain nearby standing beside Alfred and watching silently as Leslie cleaned the wound again and proceeded to close it with nine stitches. I chose to sit on the other side of Bruce, my eyes hardly leaving his face. Leslie assured me that she had administered enough to knock him out for a few hours and that when he woke, she would re-evaluate him and either sedate him again or administer his anti-convulsant. Bruce hadn't so much as flinched since he had gone under in the bathroom, an unnerving calmness on his face.

"Well, that should do for now," Leslie rose to her feet while wrapping the used tools and soiled gauze in the small blue sterile draping. "I'll check back at midnight… if he wakes before then, let me know."

Sitting back against the stack of pillows, I nodded, "Thank you, Leslie."

"We'll start him on antibiotics in the morning...just try and get some rest yourself, he's not going anywhere."

I reached out and touched his still shoulder, "I know."

After she left, I found myself looking up to Tim who hadn't said a word in the last fifteen minutes. Gazing around the room, I also realized that Alfred was absent and I wasn't sure when exactly he had left. I asked quietly, "Where's Alfred?"

"Oh… he went to make up rooms for me and Dick. I told him not to seeing how I doubt either of us plan on sleeping."

"You don't have to stay tonight."

He shook his head, stepping forward, "That's where you're wrong. We do. It will piss him off to no end, but… Really, that's half of the fun."

Smirking, I looked back to Bruce, "He will be pissed, won't he?"

Tim took a seat on the edge of the bed beside Bruce's left hip, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to a good Wayne berating..." Silence fell over the room again before he sighed, "When Alfred came to get me… I thought he had another seizure… After he told me what actually happened... I almost wish that had been the case."

I remained silent, fighting every urge to breakdown emotionally as my husband had.

"I'm sorry," he continued, "It's just… My head is spinning from all of this. It's bad enough to find Talia in the Cave but now with Jason… Dick said he was in a trance when they were out there, wouldn't listen to him… and that it was even worse after they found it empty."

Thankfully, I had been with the kids, trying to pretend that tragic lightning was striking the Family once again. The mere thought of Bruce frantically digging in Jason's grave was just as bad as actually picturing it or worse, witnessing it. Alfred and Dick had been there for him, whether he had been able to acknowledge them or not. They all were there for him while I had been in hiding.

"Selina?"

I reached up and wiped at my eyes, "I just wish the world would stop testing him… After all he's done and even now he can't find peace…"

Seeing how Bruce wasn't able to say the words to make it all better, Tim acted on his behalf, "I think he sees it the other way around. That the world tests him because he's the only one strong enough to endure it."

Staring at Bruce's face, I shook my head, "I don't think he is… not now, not with something like this."

"None of us are…" he cleared his throat as he stood from the bed, "But if anyone is, it's him. You know that." Tim put a hand on Bruce's forearm before leaving, "I'll be on the second floor, room next to hers. If you need me."

Although I wanted to thank him, my throat was too tight to get any words out.

I waited until the door had closed before slipping off of the bed and crossing to the bathroom. Expecting the abattoir we had left, I took a breath before stepping in and hitting the light switch. The counter and sink were not caked in blood, but glossy and spotless. The soiled towel and blood spattered rug were missing, leaving the room looking as if nothing had happened. As if I hadn't watched my husband have an nervous breakdown…

Of course, I thought, Alfred would have miraculously cleaned it while everyone's focus was diverted.

I took a long shower, trying to convince myself that it was all a bad dream. I would return to bed and Bruce would wrap an arm around my shoulders and hold me close. And there wasn't a vile woman sleeping in my house, having come under the pretense that my Family was going to protect her.

Under different circumstances, I may have attributed my feelings towards Talia as sheer jealously. When Bruce had come clean to me after the DJG banquet in August, I had resisted badgering him with questions about her, going about it by asking more about his encounters with Ra's. Granted, she had come into play in the few conversations we had on the subject but had never been the focus. Our relationship had never been normal in nature and pressuring him to divulge on his previous romances would have been very normal. He had never asked me about my life before him and I had returned the gesture.

But my old flame wasn't sleeping in a bedroom under the same roof as Bruce.

And none of them were the heirs to an immortal world dominating monster…

I wanted to don Bruce's robe but then realized we had left it on the bathroom floor before moving him into bed, leaving it for Alfred to take. Opting for a towel, I pinned up my hair before heading to the walk-in closet, randomly grabbing a pair of cotton shorts and one of Bruce's long sleeved tee-shirts. Before returning to the bed, I turned the overhead lights off, leaving only the dim glow from the bedside lamps.

"Hey, you," I smirked, spotting Kitten curled up on my pillow. Lifting him, I scratched his chin before setting him down on the floor, "Think you've lost your bed privileges after this morning, mister."

Pulling back the covers, I slipped in beside Bruce but chose not to touch him. Instead, I rolled away from him, laying on my side while drawing my legs up. When Kitten jumped back onto the bed, I snared an arm around him and pulled him to me, suddenly missing my late black feline companion. Where Isis had loved to snuggle in close, Kitten had always been one to resist, usually bolting the second a human had more than two hands on him.

Which was why I was surprised when he conformed to me, purring while rubbing his chin on my knuckles.

And that was when I lost it, letting the tears flow and the silent sobs escape.

I was angry, scared, tired and worst of all, alone.

At some point, I fell asleep, the cat finally escaping my grasp. I was expecting to wake when Leslie came back at midnight to check on Bruce, to the sound of her and Alfred whispering softly. At the very least, I anticipated hearing the door open softly, with Dick or Tim or possibly even both sneaking a glance in to make sure he was okay.

What I wasn't prepared for was feeling Bruce press his chest to my back, to have his arms snake around me while putting his lips on my ear.

"Am I dreaming?" I asked.

"No," he whispered. After a long pause, he asked, "Was I?"

Although I wished I could say otherwise, I replied, "No."

^V^

Walking into the Cave a little after seven, I was confused to find it empty. Tim had gone ahead to work with Mattie and at the very least, he should have been suiting up or at the computer. Thinking he may have headed out without me, I jogged down to the garage but spotted all of the cycles in place as well as the Mobile. Oddly enough, one of the older cars was pulled out into the middle of the floor, tool boxes laying out in the open. Checking the training bag, the costume vault and returning to the center of the main tier, I sighed in confusion.

"Cass?"

I glanced around to see Barbara on the main monitor, the green image quickly fading to reveal her true face. Approaching the computer, I asked, "Where's Tim?"

She sighed as well, "Long story short… Talia broke into the Cave."

My muscles tensed on their own, "What? How did she get in?"

"The old barn entrance. Tim took her back out there to make sure everything is secure and to replace a few sensors she fried."

Although the answer was obvious, I still asked, "And Bruce knows?"

Barbara nodded, "He was the first one to see her. I guess he came down to the Cave just as Tim and Mattie were going upstairs. Decided to wait for Tim to come back down to talk and then Talia chose to come out of hiding."

A cave that big, there were ample places to hide, especially for someone who was good enough to escape from Ra's al Ghul.

"Bruce sounded the alarm to get Tim to come back down… when I got it, I sent Dick up."

"Where are they now?"

"Upstairs, talking with the kids and Alfred and Leslie."

"And Selina?" I found myself asking.

"Bruce had Tim and Dick bring her down so everyone could meet… She is not impressed… especially since Bruce intends for Talia to stay in the Manor, albeit in the secure room." She paused, adjusting a lock of hair before continuing, "Cass… Not that it really matters now, but did he ever tell Bruce, about the note?"

"Said he was going to, but he never said if he had."

She bit her lower lip briefly, "Well, I know I won't reference it, just in case. Let's hope Talia doesn't either."

In silence, I suited up, filling my utility belt and checking Tim's as well. Leaving Nightwing's spare belt untouched, I reasoned that Dick would likely sit patrols out in order to stand guard over the Manor. Pulling my cowl into place, I heard soft voices echoing, leading me to approach the open door of the costume vault with caution.

Peering out, I spotted Tim climbing up the steel steps from the garage bay, the look on his face a combination of anger and worry. Coming right up after him was the woman who had been lurking in the back of our minds for months. Having never faced off with her, I had spent the early part of summer reading up and studying her dossiers in order to prepare for the inevitable. She had superior training in hand to hand combat and was as comfortable wielding a sword as she was an AK-47. Despite all of her physical skills, Bruce had noted in her files that her most dangerous abilities revolved around manipulating people, including himself.

Tim paused at the center of the main floor, where I had been standing not fifteen minutes earlier. Talia stood before him, crossing her arms over her abdomen, "I would not lie to him, not about something so dire."

Glaring down at her, Tim snapped, "You better not be… He's digging that coffin up right now."

An awful look came over her face, one she was quick to cover with a hand, "Do you not realize how difficult it has been… not being able to tell him for so many years?"

"You've had plenty of opportunities, starting with the transmission. Or you could have said so in your little note. Instead, we've been running in circles for months trying to figure out what the hell was going on."

She dropped her hand, choosing to point at his chest, "How dare you-?"

"What? It's the truth. And you better damn well stick to it."

"Are you threatening me?" she cocked her head slightly.

"No, just giving you a warning."

Talia smirked before saying, "So protective of him… of this family… no wonder he gave you the cowl."

Seeing Tim's back tense, I decided to leave the concealment of the vault, giving myself away with my boots landing heavily on the stone floor. They both looked in my direction, Tim stepping forward while Talia remained in place. When I reached him, Tim paused, glancing back briefly to our unwanted guest before looking back to me, "Let me explain…"

"Oracle did."

Tim nodded, "Ah… well, I'm going to go up and get her into the secure room, go check on Bruce."

"Oracle didn't say… anything about digging."

The sad look that had crossed Talia's face found its way to his. Something cold settled in my stomach as I waited for his response. Tim finally put a hand on my shoulder, light enough that I could barely feel it through the tunic and cape, "We'll talk later, okay?"

I shook my head, "No."

He sighed and then offered, "Fine… According to her… Ra's took the body of Jason Todd not long after he had been buried. He resurrected him… that's the ally Talia spoke of in the transmission, the man her father's been training, the man he wants her to marry."

"You believe her?"

Nodding, he let go of my shoulder and said, "Dick and Bruce are verifying that the grave is empty. We'll go from there."

I looked over at Talia, still standing, earnestly pretending not to be eavesdropping. Without making an attempt to keep my voice quiet, I asked, "What about patrols?"

"You can head out now, I'll join you once I know things are in order here."

My eyes returned to her again, only to find her looking back at me.

"Cass?"

When she smirked, I nodded, "Fine. See you out there."

For two hours, I navigated the city on my cycle, traveling between boroughs and districts, doing whatever I could to keep my mind and body busy. Although I checked in regularly with Barbara, there had been no word from Tim. At one point, I asked her what his location was and she said, "Actually, I was just going to patch him through to you."

"Okay," I replied. After taking out a trio of miscreants stalking unsuspecting people in the theater district, I had been waiting on my cycle, hidden in a small service alleyway.

After a click sounded in my ear, I heard Tim sigh. I hated when he sighed. It meant he was sad.

"What's wrong?" was my first response.

"I'm not going to be able to come out."

Not entirely surprised, I repeated my question, "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Sort of… the coffin was empty."

"She told the truth, then. That's a good thing."

There was a moment of silence before he replied, "In a way, I guess it is. But this means that Ra's does have Jason… alive. And that he intends to use him against us."

Another pause lapsed before I asked, "So that's it, that's why you're staying?"

"No, that's not why…" I heard rustling on the other end, and then, "Bruce… he lost it… after digging up the… he was in a trance when he came back in the house, I guess… and then after he spoke with Talia… he-."

"Another seizure?" my voice was tight with worry. Tim had explained the night before how Alfred had called him over in order to help put an unconscious Bruce to bed. In the span of three days he had two severe episodes, the second being complicated with a fall in the Cave. When he had finally returned home, he had been all too quiet slipping under the covers beside me. Despite months of coming to terms with the changes in our lives, he still carried tremendous guilt for Bruce's condition.

His voice brought me back, "No… more like a panic attack… a meltdown." My throat closed up, preventing me from responding, regrettably encouraging him to continued, "Leslie has him sedated for now… But I can't leave him, I'm sorry."

Talia was right when she said he was protective of Bruce. I finally managed to say, "Don't be. It's quiet. I'll manage."

Tim cleared his throat quietly, then suggested, "Well, I was going to run next door and grab Robbie… if you want, when you get done, we can stay here. Hate to abandon you on patrols and then at home."

"Okay," I said as a tone sounded on the scanner. Armed robbery, Armand's Liquor and Wine three blocks away. "Gotta go."

Desiring a direct approach as possible, I sped the short distance, sticking mostly to the near empty sidewalks. Rather than waste time stopping the cycle, pulling out the kickstand and then entering the store, I opted to drive right through the glass door. Two men in leather coats, ratty jeans and black ski masks had handguns aimed at large Italian man as he frantically emptied the register into a paper bag.

The assailants swore in near unison as the glass door shattered, having only a fraction of a second to pivot towards me before I leapt straight up from the bike. As it toppled over and proceeded to slide across the floor, it swiped out displays of cheap wine and both of the armed men. Even with the bike pinning their legs down, they still tried to fight back, the larger man still holding on to his weapon and daring to aim it at me. I landed between them, striking them down before rapidly snapping bones in their wrists to make holding their weapons at that moment and in the near future unsavory.

Looking to the clerk, I noticed he was standing in utter shock, mouth gaped open and staring at me in awe. I was about to ask him if he was all right but he stared waving his arms around, swearing rapidly in Italian. From the words I was able to make out, he was not impressed that I hadn't used the door properly.

Oops.

Binding the men together, I exited as quickly as I had entered, although I waited to start the cycle until I was back on the street. Once I was off, I opened a link on the Oracom, "Oracle?"

"Did you-?"

"Done. And I owe him a new door."

Barbara sighed, "You and your theatrics… All right, I'll see what I can do, maybe I can up the insurance pay out…" I ran a red light, moving quickly into the rough streets of the Bowery before she proceeded, "Sorry everyone bailed on you."

"No, it's okay… might call it early anyway."

"Of course," she replied.

Both us knew that it wouldn't be the case. And it wasn't. Muggings, robberies, carjacking, assaults, fires, shootouts and drug dealings. Little in the grand scheme, but it made an impact on the victims' lives, something I had learned long ago. You didn't have to save a room full of hostages to make a difference, you just had to save one life. Bruce had taught me that, both in his words and actions. He fought every time as if it was the most important fight of his life, whether it be the Joker or a mugger.

Anything he could do to make a wrong turn down an alley not end as it had for him.

Leaving the city limits shortly after four in the morning, I signed off with Oracle and made the long, dark trek back to Bristol. Time seemed to slow as my mind was finally allotted the chance to wander. I knew I should have been thinking about how Talia was in the Manor and that Jason Todd's grave was empty and that we had no idea what the next bombshell was. No doubt Tim and Dick and Bruce had interrogated her to no end but if she had run away from her father, there was no guarantee that she knew anything.

Perhaps she had said something, pushing Bruce over the edge…

I showered and dressed in a spare set of sweats and a tank top upon arriving at the Cave. Stepping out onto the floor, I smirked to see Tim sitting in the computer chair, having come down to meet me. He was wearing a knee length pair of gym shorts and a long-sleeved rugby shirt, his hair mused and his jaw line dark. As I walked over, he rose to his feet, "Hey, how'd it go?"

Shrugging, I walked over to him, "Not bad. How'd it go here?"

He smiled, but his eyes were pained. Taking a step forward, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight without saying a word. After kissing the top of my head, Tim said, "Let's go upstairs."

Walking up both the cave stairs and the two flights to the guest bedroom, Tim caught me up on the details he had left out earlier. In addition, he recapped his long night of staying awake, watching Talia sleep peacefully on the monitor. I asked about Dick and Tim replied that he had taken to sleeping up on the third floor in order to keep an eye out on the rest of the Family.

Making it to our temporary room, he opened the door for me and closed it behind us. Robbie didn't so much as twitch as he lay on his dog bed near the dresser. From the looks of the tucked in sheets, Tim hadn't made a single attempt at rest. My eyes immediately found the monitor Tim had set up on the nightstand, the infrared lens bathing the images in green. Sure enough, Talia was in bed, motionless save for the soft rise and fall of her chest. After sitting on the bed and looking more closely, I realized her shoulders were bare, prompting me to ask, "She's naked?"

"Yeah… I think she thinks Bruce is watching the cameras."

I glanced around at him, my brow narrowing.

"Oh please…" he sighed before sitting next to me, "We both know there is only one naked woman I like to see."

"Better be," I shook my head slightly.

He leaned his shoulder into me and kissed my temple. After exhaling heavily, he said, "You should get some rest."

I poked his thigh, "You should get some rest."

"I'll sleep later."

"So will I."

We stared at one another, neither of us backing down from our positions. He let a smile cross his face, "Fine, be that way."

I was about to reply when he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Without hesitating, I reclined onto my back, letting him lay on top of me. Most nights, we were spent from long days at work and even longer nights of patrols, leaving any intimacy for the weekends, if at all. He had joked that we were the worst newlyweds ever, having not even gone on a honeymoon let alone through the marital ritual of sporadic couplings.

He ripped my tank top over my head as I pushed his shirt up, parting our lips for mere seconds to accomplish the task. I bit his ear before saying, "She's next door."

"Lead lined walls," he grunted back, putting his weight on one hand to pull down his shorts, "I think we'll be okay."

As he pulled away to draw my sweats down and off, I pointed to the monitor, "And what about that?"

Moving to lay above me again, Tim stared at the screen before grabbing his shirt and covering it, "Problem solved."

If only getting rid of her for good was as simple.

^V^

I woke to a small finger tapping my forehead. It wasn't unpleasant since the previous morning Barbara had woken me by dropping Ethan on my chest. I opened my eyes to see Nathan leaning against my bed, his arm stretching across the mattress to touch my face. Looking next to him, I spotted Ace's big black head resting on the bed, an easy feat for the tall dog.

"Good morning," I said, smiling to see he was wearing Marvin the Martian pajamas.

"You slept here?" he asked.

Pushing myself to sit upright, I patted the spot on the bed next to me and waited for him to climb up before answering, "Yeah, it was pretty late… figured I might as well stay… and have a good, hearty Alfred breakfast."

Nathan nodded and looked down at his lap. I asked him what was wrong and he sighed, looking up at me, "The tooth fairy forgot about me."

"What?"

He forced a smile to show that he had lost a bottom incisor, emphasizing it by poking his tongue through the gap. "I lost it while I was reading last night… and I put it under my pillow and then this morning, my tooth was still there."

The truth of the matter was that Selina never had a chance to check back in on her son to tuck him in, staying with Bruce for the remainder of the night. I put an arm around his shoulder and rubbed his back, "Well, I will be sure to get to the bottom of this… make sure the Tooth Fairy isn't slacking on the job."

I reached over and let Ace sniff my hand, smirking when he licked my fingers gently. I had witnessed first hand what that fanged mouth was capable of, giving me an entirely new level of respect for how careful he was with Nathan. After drawing my arm back, I asked, "Anyone else awake?"

He shook his head, "No… maybe Alfred. I haven't checked yet."

"Well, if you give me a couple minutes, I'll wash up and we can go downstairs together, how does that sound?"

Nathan finally offered a real smile before rolling off of the bed, "Okay, but hurry."

As boy and dog raced each other into the hall, I pushed the covers back and stepped onto the cool carpet. Stretching my back and shoulders, I reached for the bedside phone and called Barbara. It wasn't until after it was ringing that I spotted the alarm clock putting the time at twenty of seven. I promptly hung up, not surprised when it immediately rang on my end.

"Morning, precious," I said apologetically.

"Good morning…" Barbara yawned before adding, "How goes it on the home front?"

"Home is still standing, that's a good sign… Nate just woke me up actually, haven't had time to get updates from everyone."

"Well, Cass ended up going up to spend the night after patrols, so at least there was double duty on the second floor." I heard Ethan babbling in the background and after Barbara appeased him, she continued, "And Leslie called around one, said Bruce was doing better."

My heart sank a little lower in my chest, "Yeah… I checked in with her on her way back downstairs just before then, must be. Said he was back to his usual cheery self."

"Probably just him trying to make Leslie feel better… Listen, I'm going to take Jim to the airport then I'll stay here with Ethan if you want to... help out up there today."

Carrying the phone with me as I crossed the room, I agreed, "Sounds like a plan. I'll give you a call later… and give Jimbo my best."

"Okay."

I took a bit longer than I had anticipated, choosing to shower quickly and shave before the day was underfoot. Out of the bounty of spare clothes I had in my old room, I selected based on comfort with a pair of stonewashed jeans, worn leather deck shoes and a button up blue chambray shirt over a white undershirt. After pocketing my cell, I stepped out of the room while rolling the sleeves up to my elbow. Nathan and Ace sat just outside of my door, my younger brother dressed in a frighteningly similar outfit. The only difference was that he had black and blue stripes and short sleeves on his button up shirt.

"Looking good, pal," I noted.

Nate climbed to his feet, "Hey, you copied me…"

"Maybe people will think we are twins."

"I don't think so," he replied, getting to his feet.

Nathan laughed as I picked him up off of the ground, practically tossing him on to my shoulders, "Twins that were born thirty years apart."

The dog let out a low whine of excitement and followed me as I strode down the hall, his eyes never leaving Nathan as he sat up high. Reaching the stairwell, he remarked, "You're old."

"Well, you're short, so there."

By passing the second floor entirely, we trekked to the ground level of the Manor. I offered to let Nathan down, but he instructed me to carry him to the service entrance so he could take Ace out for a walk. Doing as told, I walked on, turning whenever he steered me by the head. Passing the open entrance of the kitchen, I stopped upon hearing someone clearing their throat.

Putting the boy down, I looked in and smiled, "Morning, Al."

"Good morning to you, too, sir. Master Nathan, if you would be so kind as to walk your companion, I will ready his breakfast."

"Okay," Nate patted his thigh, "Hier, Ace. Let's go out."

Stepping into the kitchen, I took in a lungful of warm breakfast smells, "Glad I woke up early."

Alfred returned his gaze to the stove top, carefully checking a skillet filled with a colorful omelet, "It pains me to hear that seven in the morning is waking early, sir."

"I know, it pains me as well," I replied, reaching to steal a crumb off of cooling loaf of cranberry-oatmeal bread. Without turning back, Alfred cleared his throat, warning me not to proceed. Reluctantly, I retreated, choosing to simply take a seat at one of the stools on the island counter. "I take it everyone else is sleeping in?"

"A well deserved rest, yes." He stepped away from the stove for a moment, pouring me a cup of coffee and adding two spoonfuls of sugar before handing it to me. I thanked him and rose from the stool making a grab for the sugar bowl to add an additional heaping scoop. He played interference once again, although resorting to physical instead of verbal efforts.

After he swatted me with the hot spatula, I shook my hand, "Ow!"

"My apologies, sir. It must have slipped…"

Returning to the stool in defeat, I sipped gingerly and asked, "Where's Leslie?"

"I've already taken her into the clinic for the day. She wished for an early start in order to return at a decent hour."

With Nathan still outside, I decided it was safe to ask, "How's Bruce?"

He hesitated, turning the omelet with the ease of experience, then replied, "He and Ms. Selina were resting comfortably as of six this morning."

"Leslie said he was doing better last night, when she checked on him."

"He was awake, alert… ornery."

"Well, that's good to hear…" I smiled at that, hearing the service door open and the chaos of child and canine feet. Watching silently, Alfred pointed out the waiting porcelain dish on the counter to Nathan who retrieved and carefully set it on the floor near the matching water bowl. After watching white teeth flash against black lips for a moment, I said, "Surprised Mattie's not up yet."

"It is quite acceptable for a young girl to sleep in," Alfred pointed out, "A grown man, however…"

Not ten minutes later, Nathan and I were seated in the nook, sharing breakfast together. For a moment, I thought that he had forgotten about what had happened the night before, but as he stabbed his eggs, he had asked if Talia was going to come down for breakfast.

"Probably not, Nate."

"When am I going to meet her?"

"I don't know. Soon… have to let the adults catch up first."

Halfway through breakfast, Mattie joined us, still in her pajamas. Nathan showed her how he had lost another tooth but made no mention of the Tooth Fairy not dropping by to exchange it. Afterwards, Alfred volunteered to tend to the kitchen as long as Mattie took Nathan in to the den to play.

Carrying the dirty dishes from the nook to the kitchen, I spotted a breakfast tray plated for one. Seeing how the remaining occupied rooms in the house were housing married couples save for one, it was obvious who it was intended for. Picking it up, I glanced over to Alfred as he rinsed dishes in the sink, "If I'm not back thirty minutes, wake the Batmen."

He nodded curtly, "Of course, sir."

Knowing I would only spill the fresh squeezed orange juice onto the omelet, yogurt with fruit and the fresh cranberry bread, I decided it was best to take the elevator up to the next floor. Stepping off, I walked down the silent hall, pausing at the secure room's door. Setting the tray in one hand momentarily, I exposed the digital control box and let it scan my hand and approve of my vocal command.

After the door's lead bolts disengaged, I rapped softly.

"Come in," Talia replied from within.

Before opening the door, I whispered to myself, "Please have clothes on."

And she did, albeit barely. Seeing how she had brought no physical baggage of her own, Alfred had worked his magic and unearthed some items of clothing for her. Instead of her combat gear or her over-revealing gowns, she was sporting a black silk robe. There was an outfit in waiting on the dresser, dark slacks and a green sweater beside brown slip on shoes and plain white cotton undergarments. No doubt her first order of business would include a shopping trip at Neiman Marcus.

"Breakfast in bed, how pleasant."

I crossed the rooms, avoiding her gaze as I set the tray on her bedside table, "You know Alfred, they don't get more pleasant than him."

She smirked, taking a seat on the rumpled covers on the bed, "Truer words, Richard… although I must say, I'm surprised to see you checking in on me."

Standing upright, I asked, "And why's that?"

"At the very least, I expected Timothy."

I shook my head, "Call me whatever you want, don't call him that. He'll drop you in a chasm in the Cave."

"Somehow, I doubt that," she smirked, crossing her legs before adding, "He doesn't seem the type to overreact over something of such little consequence."

The plan had been to drop off her meal, make sure she wasn't indulging in any scheme hatching and then split. Instead, I found myself taking a seat in the small arm chair adjacent to the bed. She seemed amused by that, hiding her smile by taking the glass of orange juice and putting it to her lips. When she put it back down, she asked, "Are you keeping me company or babysitting me?"

"Little bit of both. Plus interrogation."

"I have nothing to hide, not anymore."

"Good. Then let's start from the beginning. When your father's men violated the grave of a teenaged boy."

"I can't enjoy this meal first?"

Narrowing my eyes, I told her, "Multitask."

Talia contemplated for a moment before shifting to sit closer to the nightstand, "You've changed. You were a child trapped in man's body the last I saw you… now, the child is long gone."

A growl escaped my lips on its own, "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Of course. My apologies," she adjusted the glass on the tray before suggesting, "Seems only fair to tell my tale once, perhaps we should wait-."

"You'll tell your tale as many times as we want, see how many variations you can spin out."

The soft look on her face was suddenly replaced with one of anger as she rose to her feet, "Perhaps I won't speak to you. Or any of you. I came here for protection and I have received nothing but accusations and threats from you and your partner."

I noted she didn't mention Bruce, but decided not to comment as I stood from the chair. Keeping my voice even, I replied, "You can't honestly expect us to welcome you with open arms, Talia. You post some transmission to the airwaves, giving as few details as possible and asking for Bruce to save you and then that note to Tim, telling him you needed his protection…"

"He told you of the letter?" she seemed genuinely surprised.

"Why wouldn't he?"

When she decided to sit back down, I did the same. It was too early to be sorting through what was her Oscar worthy acting skills and what was actually the truth. But the longer we waited to confront her, the longer we would be left wondering. And I was certainly the least patient member of the Family, possibly tied with Nathan.

"I want you to know that I do see this from your perspective, Richard. I only wish you would offer me the same courtesy."

"I will gladly do so… after you enlighten me."

There was a long moment of silence before she began, "My father took the remains shortly after the boy expired. He knew how costly the child's death would be on Bruce… and no matter what had transpired between them over the years, my father has and will always respect him as one of his greatest rivals and near equals. Letting such a tragedy break the spirit of such a great man was not an option, not if my father could have taken it back."

"So dipping him in the pit was the better option?"

Talia hesitated, then responded, "It was done with the intention of doing right by Bruce. When he joined forces with my father to fight a mutual enemy, it was evident how reckless and erratic he had become. When their alliance ended, my father proceeded to carry out as planned, putting Jason into the Lazarus pit."

The mere thought of it made the eggs in my stomach churn. Somehow, I managed to keep my breakfast down while asking, "Then why did he keep Jason? Why didn't he return him to Bruce?"

"He desired to but…" she reached up and wiped at her eyes with the edge of a linen napkin. When she set it back down on the tray, Talia proceeded, "The boy came out of the Lazarus pit unusually calm. My father and his doctors feared that he had not been brought back correctly, that there was still damage to his brain and nervous system. But they were wrong… He… He looked at us, followed instructions to lay on the gurney…"

"How is that possible?"

"We still don't understand. He cleared all of the physical examinations and neurological tests, in fact, hitting ranges that were accelerated for his age. We explained to him what had happened, about the manner in which he had died and how we had gone through the motions of righting the wrong. Jason seemed to absorb it all without worry, as if he had simply woken from a long sleep. My father was overjoyed with the results, until… until the boy spoke."

Dreading the response, I asked, "What did he say?"

"He asked if Bruce had… sought out revenge, if he had killed the Joker. We told him that he hadn't and Jason… started to laugh."

"He laughed?"

Talia nodded, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye, "It was perverse… seeing such a young boy with such a cold look on his face, hearing the anger in his laughter. My father couldn't return him, knowing that he wasn't the same boy."

"Why not kill him?" I asked without thinking.

"We tried to. But Jason defended himself, killed four guards in the process. It was then that my father decided that he had given life to the boy and was therefore responsible for him. To train him, to care for him… to love him."

I stood up again, feeling my heart throbbing in my chest.

"We never meant for it to happen that way," she pleaded, rising from the bed and approaching me. "We wanted to help him, to help Bruce."

Reaching the door, I turned and glared down at her, "Eat your breakfast."

I opened and closed it without looking at her again. Once it was locked, I let myself lean against the door, sliding down to sit on the carpet. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Tim approaching, pausing to stand not two feet away. When I finally looked up at him, he was sporting only gym shorts and the same shocked look that I had on my own face.

"Did you get all of that?" I asked, knowing he had been next door with the surveillance monitors.

He nodded, swallowing hard before admitting, "I hate to hear what else she has to say."

"Me, too," I sighed, a flash of Jason laughing crossing my mind, "Me, too."

^V^

Alone again.

But not alone, I mused while looking to one of the nearly invisible cameras.

When Timothy had escorted me to the room the previous night, he had not disclosed his efforts in verifying that the cameras were ready for duty. Having dealt little with Bruce's successor, I had been impressed by his boldness. His activities in his time since taking the cowl had been remarkable, excelling more rapidly than Bruce had in his early years. It had not been easy determining that a new face was behind the mask, but seeing the increase in Bruce's social and familial life had warranted further investigation. I had never expected him to step down, I had never desired to think of my former lover as becoming anything but the great man I had once known him to be.

It had taken years, but my father had been the one to determine that the last Robin had been the one to inherit the cowl, Timothy Drake. Although he had his suspicions for some time, he had decided earlier that year that he was certain. The Joker's path of destruction through the streets of Gotham had entered the personal lives of the Family, striking them down without the benefit of disguise. The defining factor had not been the shooting of Richard, but the fact that the Batman had remained vigilante until the deaths of Drake's parents.

Followed shortly after by Bruce Wayne and his daughter being attacked by an unknown assailant, supposedly saved by Batman.

Despite all of the variables, my father had deduced that Drake had given the cowl back to his mentor, forcing him out of retirement. He had said, "I have known the detective long enough to know that age and weakness would not prevent him from acting as Gotham's last stand. I have seen him act selflessly before, and just as stupidly."

The pieces had come together, the timelines had fused. Richard had maintained his self appointed guise, the role of Robin had been vacated and the cowl of the Bat had been bestowed to another generation. When my father had shared his thoughts on the matter with Jason, his protégé had stabbed an unarmed technician in the control room. His only reprehension had been my father reminding him that he needed to maintain his temper.

The scar on the side of my face had burned painfully while watching him chase the tech out of the room, laughing at the poor man.

I could not stand another moment in their presence, under their control. It had taken until June for me to plan a way to send the transmission, to try and put my emotions aside in order to send a coherent message, one my former beloved would take notice of. Sending it directly to him would have been foolish, but I knew his allies kept as close of an eye and ear on the world as he once had. Especially his predecessor.

Spending most of the evening at Timothy's side, I had studied him intently, noting both the similarities and differences between the current and previous Batman. Granted, Timothy was upset by my intrusion, he had been able to keep it from affecting his actions. He had known every step he took in the Cave, every word he had said to me and controlled every look he sent my way. Whenever I had intruded upon Bruce, he had been furious, always grabbing me by the arm, digging his fingers into my flesh, growling his words, glaring down at me…

I had been pleased to see that he had treated me in the same manner after so many years apart.

Seeing Timothy speak with his masked ally, David Cain's daughter, I had the first moment alone since arriving. They spoke just loud enough to be heard, proving that they were not above me listening in. Leaving her to patrol the city alone made me wonder if my presence had a greater impact than I had first predicted. As we had climbed the steps up to the Manor, I had proposed, "Please do not feel as if you need to abandon your duties on my behalf."

Timothy had paused three steps from the top, waiting for me to look back at him, "My duty is to protect people. Right now, it's to protect this Family."

"To protect Bruce?"

He had narrowed his eyes briefly before ordering, "Keep walking."

The study had been nearly exactly as it was when I had last seen it. Lush carpeting, dark drapery over the windows and the same magnificent desk. While Timothy had locked the grandfather clock entrance, I had approached the desk, its surface glossy and spotless save for a leather desk blotter, laptop and framed photographs. Two of the silver frames had images of Bruce with the dark-haired woman I had met earlier. One had been of them posing in formal wear at a social event and the other of them sitting together on what appeared to be the stone terrace of the Manor.

They had appeared blissfully happy in both.

There were five more photographs, two of them documenting the weddings of both Richard and Timothy. Richard had wed the auburn haired woman that had swapped roles from active crime fighter to telecommunication sleuth. They had been seated on an iron wrought bench in a rose garden, she on his lap with her arms around his neck. Timothy's had been far more light in nature, a black and white photograph of him and Cain's daughter on the swings of a playground. Again, their happiness transcended the glossy images.

Then, there had been frames of the children.

Bruce's daughter had looked stunning, sporting a purple and white leotard while proudly boasting a neck of gymnastic medals and a brilliant smile. Her dark waves had been pulled back tightly, revealing the delicate features of her face and her startling blue eyes. The boy had been equally precious, with short black hair, a mischievous grin and an American football uniform smudged proudly with dirt, the same sharp blue eyes glowing with excitement. The last had been of a toddler, not much more than a year old with bright hazel eyes, short caramel curls and the small buds of insidious teeth.

He was seated on Bruce's lap in the picture, the only image on the desk with Bruce's hair short and gray.

"They are beautiful, his children."

Timothy had approached me, "Yes, they are."

"This was recent, yes?" I had pointed to the photograph of the toddler.

"This spring."

"It was before he was injured… I can tell. He carries more weight in this than he does now… he seems more himself."

He had hesitated before replying, "It was Ethan's birthday party in March. Month and a half before it happened."

I had drawn a long breath before proposing, "If I am to be completely honest with you, with everyone, I would desire the same in return… I want to know what happened to him."

Timothy had shrugged, barely noticeable in the dimly lit room, "He and his daughter were going to the Free Clinic-."

I had shaken my head, "No they weren't."

"Listen, you want the truth, you can ask Bruce. Because honestly, none of us know." He had glanced to the door before nodding, "Let's go."

I had expected Richard to be waiting by to help escort me to my quarters, or at the very least Alfred armed with some sort of rifle. Instead, he had walked me in total silence up one flight of stairs before ushering me left down a quiet corridor.

As he examined the room, I had told him, "I meant it when I said that I have nothing to hide."

Timothy had commented, "We'll find out, won't we?"

Alfred had a moment after we had. I had greeted him warmly and he had done his best to remain cordial and polite. He offered a tray of food, but I had declined, taking only the glass of water.

"Well, in the event you change you mind, I shall leave this for you," he had set the tray on the dresser.

Naturally, I had been able to trust in the fact that Alfred would never change.

He had left briefly, returning with day clothes, a robe and other garments, miraculously all within my size. Alfred had asked if I desired anything else and after assuring him that he had done more than enough, he had departed. I had expected Timothy to begin his actual interrogation, mentally preparing myself for whatever he selected from a spectrum of questions. When we had trekked back through my path through the Cave's recesses, he had barely said a word. Even on the return trip, he had only asked that I was certain my father had taken the body of Jason Todd.

I had given him a truthful response, but he would have been upset either way.

When he had run out of things to check on in the room, Timothy had turned to me, "There's literally no way in or out unless the door is unlocked. And that can only be done by myself, Dick and Bruce. Even Alfred can't do it, so don't start trying to get in good favor with him, it won't help."

"A safe room," I had replied, shedding my fur lined vest before throwing it to the bed. "More like a prison cell."

"You wanted to be protected, this is how we'll do it." He had paused until I face him once more, "I know Bruce is going to want to talk to you, most likely in the morning… but I have to ask you something now."

"Ask away," I had offered.

"You sent that transmission months back, but you randomly sent the letter mere weeks ago. Why didn't you say that you were coming?"

"I was still uncertain as to whether or not it was feasible."

"Were you in hiding? In Iran?"

"Yes… I was being tailed by my father's men… they had managed to narrow in on my general location… sending the letter was the safest way to contact you."

"Contact me? All you said in it was that you were afraid Bruce was too crippled to help you and that you were setting your sights on me."

His words had hurt me far more than the tone in which he had said them. I had stepped closer to him before responding, "I said no such thing. I… I simply was concerned for him… after all he has suffered… And with the mantle belonging to you, it was you I should have been reaching out to from the start."

Timothy had remained silent as he stared down at me.

With the opportunity available to me, I had continued, "You wear his mantle in his stead, you uphold his noble traits and you have taken his vow… you must protect the innocent, including me."

He had asked, "The scar… is from Jason?"

"This is nothing," I had touched the side of my face, "He's done far worse to me. My father's second in command and he thinks he is as powerful as the Demon's Head." My face had softened enough to let my lower lip tremble at that point.

Noting as much, Timothy had replied, "Cell or not, no one is coming in or out on my watch."

"A great relief."

He had left without saying good night, not that I had expected him to do otherwise.

Bruce had appeared not long after, looking painfully haggard. I had known about his conditions for some time but seeing them manifested in the flesh was unnerving. He had once been a titan among men, a man my father had deemed to be worthy of siring his heir. And yet before me was not the man I had fallen in love with so many years ago. It was a gray haired man, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a limp that would never go away.

Looks were deceiving, I had to remind myself.

He had spoken briefly with me, starting with a stern voice but in the end emotion had gotten the best of him, leading him to leave abruptly. I had hoped that Bruce would be the first to greet me in the morning given that there had been so much left unsaid and hanging in the air. I wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to show him that I was indeed sorry for being partly responsible for his agony, for his suffering.

Alone.

But not alone.

Even through the reinforced door, I could sense Richard on the other side. Pressing my ear to the cold surface had yielded no sound, but I was certain he was still there. Retreating, I took a seat on the bed once more, the rich aroma of breakfast doing little for my appetite. The last few days had treated me much nicer than the months that had come before, the hospitality in America never tiring of a wealthy, attractive woman. Cash and confidence were never turned away, something that had made entering the city nearly as easy as it had been to step into the Cave.

I forced myself to eat the bread and drink the juice, leaving the rest untouched. Shedding my robe, I took advantage of the time alone to wash and dress, the clothing far too casual for my taste. Given the looks and growls I had received the night before, I doubted that the lady of the house be willing to part with more appropriate attire. I had been studying my appearance in the mirror when I heard the door unlock, opening without being invited to.

Stepping out of the washroom, I was pleased to see it was Bruce, looking poorly rested but in more control of himself than he had been for our last conversation. I smiled before remarking, "You look well. Last night, you appeared-."

"Last night I dug up my son's grave," he interrupted me, "And now… you're going to tell me why."

"I was just speaking with Richard-."

He cut in once more, "I know. I also know you won't tell him things that you would tell me. That I know things that he doesn't." When I didn't reply, he added, "The cameras are off."

Nodding, I pulled back the wave of hair covering the scar on my face, "Very well."

Taking a seat on the bed, I waited for him to be seated in the chair. His upper body seemed to be as stiff as his left leg, forcing me to wonder if he had slept at all. If he had been up distraught over the truth about Jason, pondering about my sudden appearance or worried for what was to come. At the very least, I would do my best to quell some of his questions, to bring him comfort of mind.

I recapped all that I had told Richard, pointing out that my father had been gravelly worried for him during their alliance in bringing down Qayin. Bruce had been right in noting that I was able to be more frank with him than with his eldest protégé. There were matters that only he knew of and details that would mean more to him than the others. Experiences he and I had shared and no other had…

"If it is any consolation," I offered, "My father loves Jason. As if he were his own son."

"It's not," he said quietly. Bruce had been silent for the better part of ten minutes, leaving me to carry the entire conversation. I had been expecting an interrogation but it had started to feel like a confession. He let his elbows rest on the arms of the chair, peaking his fingers together and letting them rest o his chin. After shaking his head slightly, he responded, "Your father doesn't love anyone. Or anything."

I smirked before commenting, "There was a time that I would have clawed your eyes out for saying that."

He replied, "But not anymore. Because now you've seen him for who he really is."

I rose to my feet and began to pace the room slowly, "My whole life I rebelled against him and for the last fifteen years I have been cast aside, neglected, abused…and my father could care less. I know the only reason he has sent men after me was so that Jason could have his bride…"

Bruce returned to silence, his eyes distant with contemplation.

Moving before him, I knelt before proceeding, "I've wasted a lifetime following his orders, obeying him… I wasted a life with you… and in return, I was granted with nothing. For years my father hinted at giving me to that foul creature-."

"And when he finally acted on it, you left," he finished for me.

"You know my father's customs… they dictate the consent of the bride and the approval of the father… and I refused." Rising to my feet, I continued, "And unfortunately, Jason does not take no for an answer."

When I reached for the edge of the sweater and began to pull upward, Bruce rose to his feet, "Don't do this."

"You wanted the truth," I pulled it up and off, letting it fall to the floor, "Here it is."

He stared quietly at the ragged scars that marked my bare torso and arms, small knots on healed ribs and puckered skin from burns that would ever go away. The look that overcame him reflected the very same that had crossed my face upon learning he had been hospitalized in April, that he was in critical condition and comatose. "Talia…"

"For whatever wrongs I have dealt you over the years, I have paid for them, dearly. I can't go back… I… I need you to stop it, to stop him… to save me…"

Despite my efforts to maintain my emotions, thinking of every blow and every flash of pain had my eyes growing glassy and my chest growing tight. Turning away from him, I wiped my eyes, barely noticing when he inhaled sharply at the sight to my whiplash marked back. He bore twice as many scars and I doubted a single one caused him as much pain as seeing similar marks on others had.

He no longer wore the mask.

He was old and crippled.

But as my father had said, that would not stop him from acting selflessly. Or stupidly.

^V^

As always, it was difficult to determine what was for show and what was real.

However, there was no denying the decade's worth of scars that plagued her once flawless skin. A cursory glance defined many to be the result of whip lashings, knife wounds, burns and the discernible knots of broken bones. She had said that as a boy Jason had killed a number of guards in self-defense and from the looks of it, his violence had only progressed. Under the tutelage of her father's greatest fighters, Jason's brash, erratic and careless behavior had been sculpted into something unimaginable. He thrived on senseless violence, preying on those he deemed weak or those he simply could not tolerate.

Far too similar to the monster that had put him in the ground in the first place…

I bent at the waist carefully, retrieving the sweater from the floor before approaching her. Talia's bare back shivered as she fought tears, causing taught flesh to move beneath the scars. Draping it over her shoulders, I found that I had nothing to say.

She turned to face me, arms crossed over her chest as she hugged herself. In the light of the Cave the night before, she had looked just as she had the last time I saw her. With daylight casting over her, I recognized the slight changes in her complexion and the scattered grays in her hair. Time had struck at us both, seemingly with equal amounts of suffering and pain.

"We will do whatever we can to stop your father and… Jason. We will protect you."

She lifted a hand to wipe at the tears on her left cheek, "That's all I ask."

I waited as she excused herself to freshen up in the bathroom by taking a seat in the arm chair. Alternating between staring at the closed door and the stitches on my finger. The cameras were off, thankfully, but Tim was more than capable of activating them again if he so desired. Before entering her room, I had briefly spoken to both Tim and Dick as they loitered outside of her door. Sitting on the floor, Dick had jumped to his feet at the sight of me, telling me had taken in her breakfast and had gotten an earful.

"I hate to say it," he had admitted, "But I feel bad for her."

Tim had been less empathetic, rehashing the hours he had spent watching her through the night. For nearly ninety percent of the hours he had observed, she had slept peacefully in the queen-sized bed. I had stepped towards the room he had stayed in, and he had quickly informed me that Cassandra was sleeping still. After promising to be quiet, he had let me enter, watching from the doorway as I deactivated the monitoring connection.

As long as Selina didn't know about Talia revealing her scars to me, all would be well.

There was a great deal more to be discussed, but I was wary of how to proceed. I wasn't about to postpone finding out the necessary details of Ra's and Jason's relationship, nor did I want to push Talia to the point where she would become emotional. As she returned to the main room, I decided I would play it by ear, waiting to assess her state before continuing.

She took a seat on the bed, drawing her legs up in order to rest her chin between her knees. Her face was dry and clean, but her eyes were still puffy and red. Keeping her gaze set on her bare feet, she spoke softly, "He always respected my father, right from the beginning. At first, he seemed to respect me as well… but I never desired to grow fond of him. I knew there was something different about him, something that would only grow worse with time."

Time. As in nearly seventeen years of training with the League of Assassins.

I couldn't help but think back to the short time Jason had spent under my wing, the constant and uphill battle of trying to get him to conform to the training regimens and to adhere to the rules. Although I still blamed myself for his death, and rightfully so, I had acknowledged the fact that his resistance to staying within the lines had played a role as well. Had he been able to follow orders and trust that the rules were in place for a reason, he may not have acted as he had. He may have never felt the cold steel of a crowbar nor the blazing heat of the explosion that had ended his life.

Then again, if he had never been a part of my war, he wouldn't have been forced into the predicament in the first place…

"Your father thrives on controlling others, on obtaining obedience. I have a hard time believing he would let Jason harm you so viciously without repercussion."

"Where it counts, Jason is the ideal son to him. He carries out missions with perfect success, he expects the highest caliber of action from his men at all times and his loyalty to my father is unwavering. Combined with his abilities and his passion for his work, it makes it easier for my father to look beyond Jason's faults."

"They seem to be quite apparent to me."

She smiled sadly, "There was one occasion where my father reprimanded him, when Jason was eighteen… He had groped me and I had backhanded him for acting so forward. In response, he had punched me," she gently touched her right cheek, the bone beneath misshapen, barely noticeable but I had memorized her face long ago.

After looking up at me, she concluded, "Hard enough to break my cheekbone. Fortunately, my father had seen it… and knocked Jason to the ground and held the edge of his sword to the boy's throat. He made it clear that it was a juvenile and senseless act, and it was not to be tolerated."

That sounded more like the Ra's I knew, I thought to myself.

Talia added, "He was punished… locked in solitary confinement for a month. Afterwards, Jason pretended to play nice, but in private moments he had no problem expressing his disgust towards me… I had always known what he really was. That simply had proved it."

Exhaling, I inquired, "It obviously only had a short term effect. Some of those scars are at least a decade old."

"The closer he became to Jason, the more my father let him get away with… but there is much that he is not aware of. I'm sure if I had divulged it to him, my father may have taken some sort of action against him-."

"Then why didn't you tell him? You obviously have the evidence to support accusations."

Talia shook her head, "Because… there was too much at risk. And had I gone to my father and disclosed it… there was still a chance that he would not be as upset as I was. Our cultures are so very different, Bruce. My father has lived centuries, all of them patriarchal in nature. He has never hesitated in raising his hand towards me, why would he turn on his protégé for doing the same?"

In my years, I had encountered far too many victims of domestic violence. Far too many stood by those who harmed them in fear of the consequence of actually leaving, not to mention a score of psychological issues revolving around altered perceptions. Talia had once been a figure of sheer power and yet before me she looked broken, forcing herself to be angry but clearly acting out of fearfulness.

"I have stood by his side my entire life and yet he takes to that street rat as if he was of his own blood…" Talia's fists clenched the edge of the mattress before she calmed herself with a deep breath, "To a point, I understand his leniency. There were times when my father had every right to have me beheaded and my remains fed to jackals, but he never did. Even when he had used the protocols against your allies and I had betrayed him to help you… One of his men had shot me in the leg a means of stopping me… I later found out that my father punished him by feeding him alive to tigers."

Letting her legs slip off of the bed, she added, "He has been more than willing to look the other way for either one of us… but considering my actions, I doubt he will be as understanding towards me from now on…"

My throat felt dry, forcing me to swallow hard before asking, "How did you escape?

"It was easier than I had expected… After hearing about what happened this spring, compiled with everything that was happening in my life, I knew I couldn't waste any more time. My father sent me on a trek to Paris with new members of the League, to test them in the field… We landed at Charles De Gaulle airport… I called in a bomb threat, singling them out and in the thick of it all, I managed to escape."

"But your father sent men after you."

She nodded, her brown hair falling from her shoulder, "Yes. Another team had already been in place… under Jason's orders. He was suspicious of me… he always has been, but it seemed so much worse after what happened to you… They tracked me over these last few months, forcing me to stay on guard every moment. Every time I thought I had lost them, they would appear."

"Did they track you to the States?"

She shook her head, "No. I gave them a false trail into Africa, to one of my father's former bases which is only accessible by jungle roads. It will take them several days if not more to reach the location and just as long to make it back out."

"A little over a week… starting from when?" I asked.

"From yesterday. The trail I left for them had me flying into the Congo yesterday morning, with a guide supposedly taking me into outskirts of Bolomba. Hopefully, they will be greeted with a rousing case of malaria."

I found myself sitting back in the chair, letting my hands grip the ends of the armrests. After a beat, I asked, "What's their plan?"

"What?"

"Your father going into hiding for so long works to bring Jason along to the point of being a worthy ally… but for what purpose? Your transmission said it involved my Family, something dire."

She shook her head, "I knew of a plan, but they excluded me long ago, locking me in my quarters so that I wouldn't meddle."

It was the first thing she had said since appearing in the Cave the night before that rang falsely. Worst case scenario, I had the option to use sodium pentothal or scopolamine to verify any facts she had divulged. Having to resort to chemical interrogation was an unsavory thought, one I hadn't faced in nearly a decade. In fact, there was far too much that I hadn't done in so long that there was reason to doubt my instincts, my deductions, my-.

"Beloved?"

Shaking my head slightly, it took a moment to realize Talia was kneeling before me again, the concern on her face not for her own predicament but instead for my own. Having lost the last twenty seconds, I quickly attributed it to a petit mal seizure. The long week was still taking its toll on me, combined with Talia's sudden presence and all that she had brought with her… my jumbled brain didn't stand a chance.

I rose to my feet as steadily as possible, watching as she stood quickly, seemingly ready to reach out and right me if necessary. Before she could speak, I looked down at her, "I'll give you some time to rethink your answer."

"Are you all right?" she asked, extending her arm and placing her palm on my chest

Glancing to the uneaten tray of food beside the bed, I stated, "I'll send Alfred up at noon, if there is something specific you desire-"

"Bruce, please…"

Guiding her hand off of me, I finally offered, "I'm fine."

When I turned to leave, I felt her hand reach for me again, gently grasping my left wrist. I paused, a single look encouraging her to let go.

"I… I saw pictures of your children… in the study…they are more beautiful than I could have imagined."

As jumbled as my brain was, it had no problem flashing back seventeen years.

Watching as Talia sobbed on a gurney in her father's infirmary.

… I am well, beloved but…

Not even able to look me in the eye.

… I have lost the baby…

Her eyes never left mine as she smiled up at me, somehow making it difficult to walk away from her. Stepping out of the secure room, I locked it before glancing up and down the hall. The next door over was ajar and I rapped on it softly before pushing it inward, not even waiting for a response. Although the monitors were off, just as I had left them, there were two sleeping figures in the bed instead of just one. Tim still in his shorts, was face down on the bed, one arm draped over Cassandra's midsection. Retreating, I slowly walked down the hall, taking the elevator up as opposed to down.

Nearly nine in the morning and I had yet to eat.

I had yet to see my children…

Selina wasn't in the bedroom, although I honestly hadn't expected her to be. After the episode following digging up Jason's grave, I had managed to let the sedatives work until a little passed eleven. Coming out of the fog, I had found Selina in bed beside me, shaking quietly as she cried. Knowing I had been responsible for her momentary lapse into weakness, I had done my best to comfort her, as she had done for me. Leslie had checked in not thirty minutes later, relieved to see I was no worse for the wear.

Or at least she had pretended to be relieved, a task equal to my pretending that everything was all right.

Taking a seat on the bed, I studied my hand in private once more. The sutures were angry, as were a number of other scrapes marring the flesh of both sides of my hands. I had ripped back part of the nails of my pointer finger and middle finger on my right hand, exposing sensitive pink flesh. Surely it had been terrifying for Selina to witness, but it had been just as nerve rattling for me.

There had just been too much dirt. Too much blood. Neither of which would ever come clean.

"Dad?"

I glanced up to see Mattie standing at the doorway, wearing dark jeans with the knees ripped open along with a close fitting charcoal wool sweater. Fresh from the shower, her hair was still wrapped up in a towel and her fair skin had a light flush to it. It was a rare treat to see her without makeup when she was in civilian attire. A rare treat that I appreciated, as it made her nearly resemble the little girl she once was.

Patting the spot beside me, I waited until she had hopped onto the bed before speaking, "I want to talk to you about last night."

"I know, I already called Terry and told him I couldn't-." She stopped when she looked up and realized I wasn't done speaking. "Sorry," she added.

"You can go."

"Really?"

I nodded, "I shouldn't have acted the way I did… You were brought into this part of the Family, you had a right to know." When she remained silent, I continued, "However, you should have stayed with Alfred."

"I know," her eyes fell to her hands as they rested in her lap.

"And when your mother or I tell you to do something, there is a reason for it."

She nodded, muttering an apology quietly. After a moment of hesitation, Mattie looked up at me and asked, "What did you learn?"

"Excuse me?"

Mattie explained, "I came in a little while ago, Mom said you were talking to Talia. Did she say anything."

"Not much," I lied.

"Mom doesn't like her," Mattie remarked while pulling the towel off, tussling her hair gently.

"I know," I sighed, "Not many people do."

"You do, right? That's why you're helping her?"

I had no idea how to answer her, truthfully or otherwise. I had saved the lives of innocent men, women and children as readily as I had spared the lives of criminal s and murderers. The man who had taken Jason's life, crippled Barbara, slain my best friend's wife, the Huntress, the Drakes and hundreds of others still had a pulse because of me. I even had spared Ra's having to be resurrected by jumping between him and Qayin, forcing the man responsible for my world crumbling to pieces seventeen years ago to die of electrocution.

Ra's had wondered aloud afterwards if Qayin had finally found peace in death. My reply had been, "I hope not."

A dark time in my life. One without hope and love and my children's voices and my wife's smiles…

After leaning over and kissing her damp hair, I offered, "You don't have to like someone to help them... In fact there will be a day when you have to save the life of your enemy. And you can't hesitate, not for a second."

^V^

The moment the door closed behind Bruce, I had to fight the urge to run into the next room and activate the cameras. It was just as feasible that Talia was there seeking refuge as it was that she was working under her father's orders. Leaving her alone, unsupervised, in a room with him had not been my plan for acquiring information, but I wasn't about to intervene with Bruce's agenda.

Dick thankfully was there to distract me, "Hey, can I ask you something? About last night?"

It took a moment before I was able to break the hard stare I was directing towards the door. I glanced up and spotted Dick leaning against the wall, not three feet away. He had been up for some time, showered, shaved and dressed, all of which was completely out of character. He had said that Nathan had woken him up early, but I wondered if he had been unable to rest comfortably with Talia under the same roof. I hadn't closed my eyes for than ten minutes, alternating my focus between the monitor and Cass's peaceful face.

"Sure," I turned to face him.

"Well… I saw him after we… in the cemetery… but, what happened in the bedroom?" When I didn't answer immediately, he added, "I mean, he was like a zombie coming back to the house, Alfred said he had to usher him every step of the way, wash him and change him… why would Leslie have to sedate him if he could barely function?"

Alfred had been relatively frank with me the night before, retrieving me from the second floor to help move Bruce into his bed. Rather than suffer a seizure, he had said that Bruce had suffered a panic attack, completely understandable given what he had just done and seen. Any man had the right to break down after having to dig up their son's grave, only to find it empty.

"Leslie has him sedated for the time being, but we will need your assistance to relocate him-," Alfred had explained when we had walked onto the third floor.

"That's fine… is he okay?"

"Nothing a few stitches and a good night's sleep won't mend."

"Stitches?" I had asked as we closed in on the double doors of the master bedroom, "For what?"

When Alfred had paused, I had followed suit, patiently waiting for his answer, "He and Ms. Selina were… discussing matters while he washed his hands… when he started to panic, he... inflicted an injury upon his hand."

Imagining Bruce clawing at his hands feverishly had brought bile to my lips. Despite all he had endured in his life, Bruce had always persevered with focus. Granted, his temper would flare every once in a while, but if anything, it had made him think more clearly. Having him lose control after Talia being under our watch for mere hours was unsettling at the least. More like it was terrifying.

Instead of him being unconscious in the Cave's medical bay as he had been Friday night, Bruce had been out cold on the bathroom floor, his head in Selina's lap and swatches of blood all over the white tiles. Leslie had already cleaned and dressed his middle finger, the soft smile on her lips had been too forced for my preference. Given the amount of red on the floor, sink and soiled towels, he had done a relative amount of damage.

I had tried to ease the tension, joking about Bruce getting too heavy to be carried to bed every night.

If Selina had heard me, she made no effort to acknowledge it.

When Alfred and Leslie had left the room, Selina had encouraged me to go out on patrols. I had replied to her ushering by saying that my place was at the Manor for the foreseeable future. Our eyes on Bruce's still face, I had also told her that Alfred had explained what had happened. It had been my hope to ease the pressure of her sitting there and wondering if she should divulge the information herself. Also, I had reminded her that Bruce could pull through anything and that she shouldn't worry.

Leaving Selina alone with her husband, I had hated myself for lying to her…

Dick sighed as he moved away from the wall, stepping towards me, "Well?"

Shrugging, I finally replied, "Well, after he spoke with Talia last night, he went upstairs to the bedroom… he and Selina were talking, probably arguing… and he just lost it."

"And what, she clawed the hell out of his hands?"

I shook my head, "He did it to himself… trying to wash the dirt off from… you know."

"He did that?" Dick asked, an incredulous look coming over his face. Leaning back against the wall, he sighed, "Jesus… I knew he was upset, but…"

A silent moment fell between us and I half expected Dick was remaining quiet for the same reason I was. Even through they were lead enforced walls, if there was a commotion we would have been able to hear it. With no sounds coming forth, I asked him, "Jim was leaving today, wasn't he?"

"Babs dropped him off at the airport earlier," he glanced at the display of cell phone before closing with, "Should be Chicago bound in about ten minutes."

I nodded, fighting back the pang of guilt I still held myself accountable for not catching the Joker before he started setting his sights on our extended Family members. Clearing my throat, I responded with another question, "You heading home then?"

Dick shook his head, "No… Figured we're just going to end up having a meeting of the minds at some point today. Might as well just stick around."

"True. Well… I'm going to try and get some sleep. I'll forward the security footage to the Cave and the Clocktower in the meantime."

Dick looked to the guest room door, "Cass still asleep?" When I nodded, he continued, "Feel bad, making her run ragged all over the city last night."

Smirking, "I'm sure you'll find a way for you to make it up to her."

"And what about you?"

I winked at him, "Already taken care of."

Dick shook his head, "That's weak, bro… Well, go take your nap, Casanova."

I opened the door and whistled softly for Robbie, "Let him out... I'll tell Cass it was your idea."

"Always thinking," he roughed up the dog's short hair before walking away, "Come on, dog wonder."

Entering the bedroom, I left the door ajar a few inches, not wanting the click of the knob to sound. Cass had tried to stay up with me to study the monitor but watching Talia sleep so peacefully had proved to be too difficult. She had finally slipped away around six in the morning, mumbling something about Pop-Tarts. Given her ambitious evening, I had anticipated her actually sleeping in for once. To help, I had made sure Robbie remained quiet on his bed and that when I had slipped out from under the covers, I had done so without disturbing her.

And of course, reminding Bruce to show the same courtesy while he deactivated the monitors.

It was half past eight and she was still out, as rare of an occurrence as Haley's comet. Before sitting on the bed beside her, I activated the monitors, pleased to see Talia and Bruce quietly talking. She was sitting on the bed, holding her legs to her chest while he sat in the adjacent arm chair. I forwarded the feed as I had intended, not certain how long I would be able to sit there and watch the screen. Neither of them appeared to be enjoying the conversation, but I opted to leave the volume down as to not wake Cass.

Too late.

"Where's my Pop-Tart?" she asked without even opening her eyes.

"Your what?" I asked, turning to face her.

"I said when I was going to sleep… I wanted a Pop-Tart ready for when I woke up."

Resting my weight on my left arm, I leaned over and kissed her cheek, "Hate to tell you, Wayne Manor is a non-perishable breakfast tart free zone."

"We have some, could have gotten it." Even though I glared down at her, she stuck her tongue out before asking, "Where's Robbie?"

I told her that Dick had just taken him down for a walk and would be back shortly. Moving to lay on top of the covers, flat out on my stomach, I set the side of my face on her pillow, "Bruce is in talking to Talia."

She craned her neck to look above me in order to see the monitor, "Ah. You talk to her?"

"Not since last night," I replied, stifling a yawn.

"When you do… tell her to get pajamas from Alfred."

"Well, of course. Top priority," I reached over and shut the monitor off, muttering into the pillow as I let my arm rest over Cass's stomach.

She kissed my forehead before saying, "Sweet dreams."

Thankfully, I was blessed with dark, quiet sleep. No haunting nightmares, no bizarre stress dreams and no jerking awake every ten minutes. In the back of my foggy mind, I kept waiting for Robbie to jump on the bed in order to lick my face. For the first time in far too long, I wasn't interrupted by internal or external forces.

When I woke up, Cass was gone and I was no longer sleeping on my stomach, but rather on my back with the covers draped over me. The alarm clock put it at just before twelve-noon, translating into a solid two hours of sleep. Looking at the empty pillow beside me, I spotted a scrap of paper with Cass's small handwriting: Come downstairs. Eat. Then come all the way downstairs.

My options were fairly slim in regards to what spare clothes I had available to me. The guest room I usually used was on the other wing of the house and had collected a surprisingly small amount of personal items over the years. A few sets of clothes, back up chargers for my laptop and cell phone and a few random texts from college. Nothing I could live without, but certainly nice to have around if needed.

When Talia had been secured the night before, I had run upstairs to update everyone and to check on my shell-shocked mentor, fresh from being cleaned up, When Bruce had snapped out of it and left with Dick to speak with our unwarranted guest, I had stopped at my old room briefly to grab clean clothes and some toiletries. Returning to my temporary quarters, I had simply set them on a shelf in the bathroom, not even bothering to brush my teeth or wash up after a long day.

First glance into the mirror, I spotted the chaotic hair and rough jaw line. I took Dick's initiative to get ready for the day, albeit five hours after he had done so. After a long, hot shower, a quick shave and a change into dark jeans and a black vee-neck sweater over a white shirt, I returned to the bedroom to right the covers. Alfred would only be by later to completely strip the bed and dress it with fresh linens and blankets, but it didn't stop me from trying to help.

After checking to see Talia was in her room, seated at the bay window while picking at a silver serving tray of food, I allowed myself a sigh before heading to the stairs. Given the number of people in the Manor, I expected it to be fairly easy to run to at least one of them. Instead, the only living soul I encountered on the trip to the ground floor had been Mattie's cat lounging in the middle of the great hall. Being more of a dog person, I left the calico alone and headed for the kitchen.

I heard them long before I arrived, Nathan and Mattie laughing, Dick snickering and Alfred begging for help from up high. Selina's voice cut in briefly, silencing Dick but leaving the kids still very much entertained. Stepping into the kitchen, I spotted everyone was seated in the nook, save for Alfred who chose to stand guard in the kitchen. He was the first to spot me, quickly greeting, "Good afternoon, Master Tim."

Mattie smiled, "About time you woke up."

Taking the seat between Cass and Selina, I replied, "It's the weekend, I can do whatever I want."

I barely had pushed my chair closer to the table before Alfred appeared with a plate for me and a tall glass of water. Thanking him, my eyes immediately warned my stomach that it was about to indulge in one of its favorite Pennyworth concoctions. His Croque Monsieurs were unmatched by any French bakery with thinly sliced ham topped with gratin of béchamel and Swiss cheese. As if that wasn't enough, he had paired it with green leaf salad, chevre cheese, candied walnuts and a raspberry vinaigrette. The piece du resistance, however, was mouth watering bite-sized pieces of goat cheese, battered and fried to perfection.

It was a miracle in itself that Dick hadn't eaten them all while waiting for me.

Nathan, who had a dollop of Dijon on his lower lip, looked to me and then up at his mother, "How come I didn't know there was a sleepover last night?"

She nudged Nathan's linen napkin closer to him before pointing out the yellow mark. As he wiped it, she answered, "It wasn't a real sleepover, kiddo, they all went to bed right around the same time you did."

"Can we have a real one tonight?"

"We'll see," Selina appeased him.

The conversation was light over lunch, focusing intently on teasing Mattie for her date night with Terry and applauded Nathan for loosing another tooth. I had asked where Robbie was at one point and Dick answered that he and Ace were passed out in the den after romping outside with the world's most energetic six-year-old. Somehow, I waited until Cass helped Mattie and Nathan carry the dirtied dishes into the kitchen to ask where Bruce was.

Selina replied, "In the Cave… Barbara couldn't find anything on thirty year old security logs, so he decided that he could."

Dick shook his head as he sat back in his chair, "Babs said the system back then was prehistoric compared to what it is now… even if something happened, there weren't nearly as many sensors or cameras, let alone countermeasures. I mean, we're talking the Before Bane era."

"At least it will give him something else to focus on…" Selina sighed.

"How is he feeling?" I asked, drawing her eyes to me.

She hesitated before admitting, "Better, actually. I think after talking with… Talia this morning, he feels more in control. Now whether or not she told him the truth…"

Dick offered his input, "From what I saw this morning, she's not the same demon spawn we all knew and loathed. I'm not saying I trust her, but… she certainly hasn't enjoyed the last fifteen years."

Selina rose to her feet suddenly, "Well, I'll keep the kids and canines occupied… go make sure Bruce isn't screaming at Barbara for no reason."

Dick nodded and I said, "Will do."

We watched silently as she walked out of the nook and disappeared.

Twenty-four hours earlier, I had been jokingly fighting with Cass over the remaining half of a pulled pork sandwich, bowing out and settling for a pair of hastily made grilled cheeses. Dick and Barbara had probably been playing with Ethan, playing tag in the den or peekaboo in the nursery. Bruce had been spending time with Selina and the kids and Alfred and Leslie had been at the clinic's luncheon.

Twenty-fours had turned our lives upside down.

And not for the better.

^V^