Batman: Lost to the Night--Part XII

Chicken and Rice recipe from Second Helpings, Please! Montreal Jewish Women International of Canada (Mount Sinai Chapter 1091, Montreal). Page 62.

“Somewhere In Between” written by Phil Vassar. Performed by Phil Vassar on his Phil Vassar CD (Arista, 2000).

The Adventures of Dan and Sam written by Phyllis Yingling. Published by Vangar Press.

“Let him set the pace,” Gordon cautioned. “If all goes well, this will be the first of many weekend passes. Don’t try to plan everything.”

Dick, Barbara and Cass nodded, as Gordon continued.

“He might want to walk around outside and get his bearings back. He might just want to stay here. Either way’s fine.”

Barbara cleared her throat. “Then, maybe we should eat in, instead of going out to celebrate.”

“With a seven o’clock curfew in effect,” Gordon agreed, “that’s probably a good idea.”

“Seven?” Cass wrinkled her forehead. “But… traffic. What if there’s… delay?”

“If he isn’t back at the apartment by curfew,” Dick said slowly, “he’ll have to notify the probation officer assigned to his case that he’s running late. If he doesn’t, then Arkham—or, more likely, that probation officer—will inform the police, and there’ll be a warrant issued for his arrest. They’re not going to listen to excuses.”

The younger woman considered that for a moment, before stating her verdict. “Not fair.”

“No,” Dick confirmed. “It’s not. But that’s how it is, and that’s what we have to deal with. As far as patrol goes, I’ve been talking with Vic over the last few days. The Titans have gotten a few new members, and Cyborg thinks its time to see if they’re as effective a team in the field as they’ve been in the training room. So, I’m flying down to ‘Frisco this weekend to brief them on what to expect, because they’ll be monitoring Gotham that weekend.”

“Tim too?” Cass demanded.

Dick nodded. “Unless he begs off. And I don’t think Vic’s going to let him. I know I wouldn’t, if it were my call. Catwoman and Arsenal are going to be active as well,” he continued. “And if the Titans run into something major, they’re prepared to lend a hand.” He looked around the room. “I’m not saying I’ll always stay home when Bruce is on a pass,” he said. “But this is his first one, and I’m taking a night off.”

There were no protests.

“Right,” Dick said. “So, getting back to the original point, we don’t treat Bruce like he’s made of glass, just…”

“Deal with his issues the way we dealt with mine when we were planning a vacation,” Barbara said flatly. “Don’t discuss any limitations or restrictions unless they’re absolutely relevant, or I… or in this case he brings them up. For the rest of it, we just treat him like we always did. Don’t walk on eggshells to avoid mentioning ‘the A-word’, but don’t constantly allude to it either.” She grinned. “Exactly the way we deal with this chair,” she added, tapping her armrest for emphasis, “and precisely where it can and can’t go in the Pyrenees.”

“I should mention before we get upstairs,” Dick said after parking the car, “that there’s… um… one more surprise.” As Bruce started to get out of the car, Dick shook his head. “You might want to stay sitting down for this one.”

Bruce settled back, a questioning look on his face.

A moment later he bounded out of the vehicle, nearly racing for the elevator.

“Take it easy!” Dick exclaimed. “She might not even be there, yet.”

Bruce barely heard him. His thoughts were spinning. Selina had a daughter? He was a father? He had to get upstairs—what floor was the condo on? What should he say? What if…? He stopped so suddenly that Dick nearly bumped into him.

“Hey. You okay?”

Bruce didn’t answer.

“Bruce?”

He turned around slowly. “I… I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” he said quietly.

“This? The weekend?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. I think I can manage that. Selina.”

Wordlessly, Dick clasped his shoulder. Bruce reached up to squeeze his hand. “I understand her reasoning. I respect it. But I don’t know if I’m… if it’s a good thing for me to… renew our… relationship at this moment.”

“Makes sense to me, all things considered,” Dick said.

Bruce nodded. “To me, as well. But, in light of what you’ve just told me, she could read a statement to that effect as a rejection.”

The grip on his shoulder tightened. “Bruce. You’ve been… away for over a year and a half. Do both of yourselves a favor: give her a little credit and cut yourself a little slack. You’ll do fine.” He paused before adding, “And if you need me, I’m right behind you—using you as a human shield in case she pops her claws.”

Bruce shot him a murderous look, but he seemed more relaxed. “I suppose we should go up, then,” he said. “Shall we?”

They’d outdone themselves, Bruce had to admit. They’d either taken the quilt from his bedroom at the Manor, or found one exactly like it. Dick—he imagined that it had been Dick—had brought over some of his clothes and personal effects. He picked up the photo of his parents on their wedding day. Dick had made the frame at summer camp when he was eleven. Bruce ran a finger gently over the scrollwork. Dick had opted for acorns at the corners with a vine motif around the edges.

He walked over to the window and pushed back the draperies. There were no bars. Good. From this vantage point, he had a clear view of Robinson Park. He smiled. It wasn’t quite home, but it was a far cry from Arkham. It was… comfortable.

Still smiling, he pulled open the bedroom door and went back to the living room.

Helena was sitting in her playpen, chewing seriously on a cloth book. Interesting aromas were coming from the kitchen. He blinked. Was Barbara baking bread? She seemed to be. And he thought he smelled apple pie, too.

He scooped up Helena, book and all, and followed the fragrance.

Barbara was sitting at the table, dicing tomatoes. “Hi!” She said, looking up. “I really hope you like bruschetta, because I needed to do something with these tomatoes. The pie comes out in about ten minutes, and then I was going to start on the chicken.” She gestured vaguely toward the counter by the sink where Bruce could see the poultry soaking in a bowl of water.

“Dick’ll be back soon. He’s meeting Roy for coffee downtown, and then he’s going to pick up Cass at the library.”

Bruce blinked. “Cassandra? Library?”

She nodded. “She’s got her ABC’s down, but she’s finding it difficult to remember all the phonetic rules. Then she discovered that if she’s listening to an audio book, she can follow along in the print version a little better. It’s slow going, but she keeps plugging.” Barbara smiled. “I’m proud of her.”

White foam started to leak out from under the lid of a pot on the stove. The burner hissed as the liquid hit.

“Ohhhhh!” Barbara wheeled over and quickly shut off the element. She used a potholder to lift the lid. “It’s okay,” she sighed. “I forgot to turn the soup down to simmer before I covered it. No harm done.”

She replaced the lid and turned the burner back on—at a lower temperature, Bruce presumed. “Barbara,” he said hesitantly, “I really appreciate what you’re doing, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Barbara countered. “I’ve seen how they’ve been feeding you in Arkham.”

Bruce didn’t return her smile.

She let out a slow breath. “Look. Next time we can send out for pizza or something. I’ve just been living on takeout all week, and I figured as long as I was going to cook, I might as well go for the gusto.” She tore off several sheets of paper towel and began to take the chicken pieces out of the bowl and pat them dry.

He relaxed as Helena snuggled against his shoulder. “I understand. And thanks.” He smiled down at the baby. “You do realize that if this was an attempt to impress me, you’ve more than accomplished that.” He grimaced. “I can’t manage a tuna salad.”

“Oh, come on!” Barbara laughed. “How can anyone ruin tuna salad? The timer went off and she rolled back to the oven to take out the pie. She glanced quickly at the open cookbook before adjusting the temperature control.

“Tim asked me the same question,” Bruce admitted. “Immediately before sampling some of mine.”

“Oh.” Barbara thought for a moment.

Helena began to squirm.

“Maybe you should put her back in the playpen,” Barbara suggested. “She can’t really crawl around in here—she’d be in the way.”

Bruce looked at the baby and smiled again. “I suppose,” he said reluctantly.

He returned to the kitchen a moment later as Barbara was setting a large roasting pan on the table.

“Could you give me a hand with something?”

Bruce nodded. “No problem. What?”

“I’m a little pressed for time,” she admitted. “I need another pair of hands. Could you please measure out two cups of rice and just put it in the bottom of the roasting pan for me? Cups are over on the side, there.”

He hesitated. “You know I can’t cook. Not ‘don’t’. Can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to boil the rice,” she sighed. “Just measure out two cups. If it’s a little over or under, it’s no big deal.”

It sounded simple enough. He complied.

“Thanks,” she said. “Maybe,” she admitted, “I did want to impress you… just a little bit. Oh, could you dump the chicken pieces in the pan, too, please?”

Bruce nodded. “No problem. And I meant it before, there was no need.”

“Maybe not on the culinary front,” Barbara agreed as she attacked fresh oregano with a mezzaluna. “Argh. I don’t believe this. Third shelf in the pantry, can you take one of those boxes of onion soup mix and just pour both envelopes into the pan? Thanks.” She hesitated. “I know you never really approved of my being with Dick.”

Bruce paused in the act of tearing open the second envelope. “I disapproved when he was seventeen and you were twenty. If you ponder the situation, I’m sure you’ll understand why.”

“And after?”

“After?” Bruce frowned. “I don’t…”

Barbara felt her hands begin to sweat. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought this up. “When Dick first told you we were going out… your reaction was a bit… well…” Lacking? Unenthusiastic, perhaps? “I thought I’d gotten beyond needing your approval by now, but maybe at the back of my mind, I thought that if I could… wow you with a meal, then...” She shook her head. “It sounded a lot less stupid before I said it out loud. Could you open one of the big cans of mushrooms? On the pantry door, second shelf from the top? Can opener’s in the drawer under the microwave. They go in the pan, too, liquid and all.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I had no idea,” he said quietly. “If I had disapproved, I would have said so. It didn’t occur to me that…” He shook his head. “No excuses. It should have. There are things I’m not good at saying, but I should have tried.” Without another word, he trotted over to the drawer and retrieved the can opener. He opened the mushroom can over the roaster and poured the contents in.

“Bend down,” Barbara ordered abruptly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I can’t hug you when you’re towering over me. And right at this moment, I think I’d like to. Now bend.”

Expression unreadable, he stooped to allow the embrace.

“That’s better,” she said. “And, you’re going to get thoroughly sick of hearing this by the time the weekend’s out, but I’m really glad you’re here. Now get up before Dick comes back and gets the wrong idea,” she laughed.

Bruce rose immediately. He seemed a bit more at ease, though. “I… if my being here poses a problem at some point, and you’d rather I not stay, I’ll understand.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to be silly, but she knew him. More importantly, she knew that he knew her. He wouldn’t accept some meaningless statement about not posing a problem. “I’ll take it under advisement,” she said. “But really, I think I can handle it. Could you fill the big measuring cup with water to the 1-quart-mark and just pour that into the pan, too? Thanks.”

As Bruce complied, she opened the oven door. “Great, now if you’ll just put the lid down and slide it into the oven, that should do it.” She grinned. “You’re going to have to learn to cook one of these days,” she said, closing the door. “I mean, you can’t live on takeout. Rent Fast Food Nation, if you don’t believe me.” She set the timer for an hour.

Bruce shook his head. “It’s not a good idea,” he said.

“Well,” she said, “I’m not saying you need to be able to make a soufflé, but I’m sure you could start with something a little more basic. Maybe something along the lines of the chicken and rice we’re having tonight.”

“I don’t think s…” Bruce was about to utter another protest. All at once his jaw dropped. He jerked his head in the direction of the oven, eyes wide.

Barbara nodded, eyes gleaming. “You start by putting two cups of rice in a roasting pan…”

Dick knew something was up. He hadn’t been trained by the best for nothing. He’d noticed that Bruce seemed more than a little apprehensive as the afternoon wore on and Barbara put dinner in the oven to reheat. Gordon arrived. Bruce greeted him almost absently, before resuming his brooding.

“He’s fine,” Barbara said in response to Dick’s inquiry. “Trust me.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “I know that look,” he said. “That’s the ‘I know something you don’t know’ look.”

Barbara began to smile. Dick looked about, more than a little nervously. “Um… how much longer until you get the ‘Dick I need to tell you something’ look?”

“The only thing I have to tell you right now, FBW,” she said, “is how much I love you.” She leaned forward as Dick bent down.

“Get room!” Cass called from the other room, shattering the moment.

Barbara sighed. “We need a door for this kitchen. Set the table?”

Dick nodded, and moved toward the silverware drawer. “By the way, the unit directly above us is going up for sale, available first of March. Is that something that Herr Fledermaus might want to purchase on Oracle’s behalf?”

Her eyes lit up. “Well, it’s definitely more convenient than the cave,” she grinned. “And probably less prone to police searches than this unit would be.” She punched his arm lightly. “You never know when Gotham’s Finest are going to turn up here with a few questions for Nightwing, after all…”

Bruce tried not to show emotion as the clock hit seven. He tried not to look next to the phone by the door, where the transmitter sat receiving the signal from his ankle monitor. That was it. The curfew was in effect. He was a prisoner here for the next twelve hours. He hadn’t expected to mind so much. It wasn’t as though he would have made plans for this evening, had he not been ordered to observe that restriction. But, of course, he had been ordered to do so. He took another bite of the rice. Well, he was stuck here, but…

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to head out, Dick?” He asked.

Dick shook his head. “Nah, I’m off tonight. Selina and Holly are filling in, and the Titans are lending a hand. It’s been pretty quiet lately, anyway.”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know. I wanted to be here this weekend. If it’s really bad, they know they can call.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Just what is the point, Bruce?” He asked wearily. “It can’t be that I’m abandoning the city, because I’m not. If you’re feeling a little crowded, I’m sorry. I’ll head into the other room and give you some space. I can’t be Batman tonight—GCPD knows you’re out of Arkham. They see me in the suit, they’ll keep stopping me thinking I’m you. I won’t get anything done.”

“The monitor will confirm my whereabouts.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “You really think they’ll believe you couldn’t figure a way around that?”

Bruce was silent.

“As far as Nightwing is concerned,” Dick continued, “in case your ice cream run didn’t hammer the point home a couple of months ago, you’ve got a lot of friends on the force. And I don’t feel like fielding their questions about why I’m out there when you’re back here. It already started this afternoon.” He looked at the dark-haired young woman seated across from him. “Back me up, Cass. You remember? When we were leaving the library?”

Cass nodded. “Officer Harper. New at Central. Wanted to know why you weren’t with us.” She said, pointing at Bruce. “Said son should be with father at time like this.”

Bruce glowered. “That is nobody’s business but ours. I want you to go out there tonight, Dick. That’s an order.”

“Sorry, Bruce,” Dick said quietly. “Nothing doing. I’m staying in tonight. It’s what I planned for, what I’ve made the necessary arrangements for, and…” He hesitated. “And the truth is, I agree with the cops on this one. I do belong here tonight. It’s more than me wanting to spend as much time as I can with you this weekend, although yes, that’s a major part of it.”

Dick took a deep breath. Inwardly, he was shaking, but his voice stayed firm. “Look. Even though the subject doesn’t come up often, we all know that what we do can be dangerous. You taught me everything I didn’t already know from my circus days, and it should be more than enough… but Bruce? If it isn’t… if I were to go out after this discussion, and something were to go wrong… I know what that would do to you, and I’m sorry, but there is no freaking way that I am taking that chance on your first night here!”

His voice had risen on the last sentence. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew that he had gone too far.

Bruce went deathly pale. Without another word he pushed his chair away from the table and stalked into the guest bedroom. The door slammed behind him.

Dick slumped. “That really could have gone better,” he mumbled.

Bruce didn’t remember having closed his eyes, but when they inched open again, the sky was significantly darker than it had been when he had stormed in here. It was probably after midnight. The others were likely still awake, he realized, but he didn’t feel up to facing them at the moment. He couldn’t fall back asleep, though.

In the end, it was Helena’s wailing that got him off the bed, and sprinting to open the bedroom door. The light from the hallway stabbed his eyes when he did, and he closed them reflexively.

A moment later, when they had adjusted, he made his way back toward the living room.

The cries broke off abruptly as Bruce entered. Jim was just settling down on the sofa with the baby on his lap. She was sucking contentedly on a bottle of juice. Jim smiled down at her.

The smile remained as he looked at Bruce. “I was just about to get another piece of that pie when she woke up,” he said. “Do you want to join me?”

Bruce started to demur.

Gordon stopped him. “You missed out on it earlier,” he added, making it sound like a criminal offense. At Bruce’s reluctant nod, he smiled. “Good choice.”

“Where is everybody?” Bruce asked.

“Well,” Gordon said, “Barbara’s out monitoring the Titans—I understand she’s got an office not far from here. Cassandra left after supper. I imagine she’s doing whatever she normally does with her nights.” He chuckled. “For the life of me, I can’t remember whether I’m supposed to know the specifics, yet. Dick said to tell you that he wouldn’t mind some company if you wanted to join him out on the balcony.”

Bruce sat down. “Maybe after.” Gordon was here awfully late. “Are you living here now?”

Gordon shook his head. “No, no. Either one of the kids will give me a lift back later, or I’ll drive home myself when it’s light out.” He laughed. “Too many late nights got to be habit-forming after awhile, I suppose.”

Bruce nodded. He understood that. In fact, that might work out rather well… “If you head out in the morning,” he asked, “would you mind giving me a lift back to Arkham on your way?”

The older man’s eyebrows drew together. “Any reason for wanting to cut this short?” He handed Helena to him. “I’m going to get that pie.”

Bruce took the baby gently. “After what happened tonight…” he began to say.

“Just what did happen tonight, Bruce?” Jim strode to the ’fridge to retrieve the dessert. “You two had a disagreement, but nothing so bad that the pair of you aren’t on speaking terms.”

“I’m reverting to type,” Bruce tried to explain. “As soon as things don’t fall into place the way I expect, I’m back to barking orders.” He rocked the baby absently. “Maybe in a month, things will be—”

Gordon’s exclamation was both pointed and unprintable. “I thought the reason behind this weekend was to ease the transition process when you pass that hearing,” he snapped. “Were you really expecting it to go without a hitch?” He paused. “You were, weren’t you?”

He popped the foil pie plate in the oven. “How many other skills did you nail on the first try?” He demanded. “Why in the name of all that’s blasted holy would you think this would be any different?”

Bruce had no answer. Abashed, he looked down at a pair of wide blue eyes. The bottle dropped and slid to his lap. A hand shot up, reaching toward his nose. “Cut that out,” he protested, stifling a laugh and lifting his head. Undaunted, the baby patted his cheek.

Gordon chuckled. “Looks like I’m not the only one who feels like slapping you sometimes,” he said. “Listen, Bruce, things are going to look better in the morning if they don’t already. Have the pie. Then get some sleep. Nobody here wants you back in Arkham, including you.” As Bruce started to interrupt, Gordon plowed on. “If you really wanted to go back early, you wouldn’t be trying to get a ride from me. All you need to do is open the front door and take the elevator down to street level. You’d be back in your cell so fast you’d think you used one of those… those… those Thanagarian boom tube whatchamacallums.”

Bruce conceded the point. “Still… my being here does present a certain amount of friction,” he said.

“So does mine,” Jim shot back. “Parents tend to have that effect.” He sighed. “Dick’s on the balcony,” he reminded him. “Why don’t you ask him what he thinks about your presence here?”

He moved to take the baby. Bruce surrendered her reluctantly. “The pie will keep,” he said. “Go on.”

Bruce rose to his feet. He knew that Jim was right about Dick. More than that, he knew that he’d been out of line earlier, and he wanted Dick to know it too.

He got as far as the balcony door before he froze, his hand on the knob. Someone else was out there, too.

A few minutes later, three generations of crime-fighters were seated around the kitchen table, mugs of herbal tea and plates of pie and ice cream before them.

“About earlier,” Bruce ventured.

Dick grinned. “Yeah, that chicken was great.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Bruce shook his head, “but…” He looked away. “I should have appreciated what you were attempting to do earlier.”

Dick cut another piece of pie. “No worries.” He paused. “Um… that was just an expression.”

“I know.” Bruce added another spoon of softening ice cream, and watched as white rivulets pooled slowly on the still-warm pie. “I’m…” He drew a deep breath. “You were right. I was wrong.”

Dick’s jaw dropped. Even Jim looked stunned. “Bruce, I…” To cover his stupefaction, the younger man quickly popped a morsel of pie into his mouth. By the time he’d swallowed it, he had recovered enough to say, “I guess it had to happen sooner or later.” He paused. “Thanks.”

Bruce relaxed visibly. He downed a sip of tea. “I’ve been out of the loop,” he said, “but even in my… situation, word reached me about Batman’s activities. You have a handle on things, and it isn’t my place to second-guess you. Not now.”

“Yeah, well,” Dick placed a hand on Bruce’s forearm. “I’m still doing things mostly the way you did. The only major changes I’ve implemented have more to do with stress management…”

Unnoticed, Gordon got up, slipped on his coat, and went out to the balcony. He spared a smile for the baby, now sleeping in the playpen. In Gordon’s estimation, at times like these, it was best to withdraw. After all, there were some specifics about their crime-fighting activities that he still didn’t think he needed to know.

“Did you ever get around to answering his question?” Alex asked. The doctor’s hands were steepled before him, fingertips extended toward Bruce.

Bruce shook his head. “There was no answer that I could give that he would accept.” He met Alex’s gaze directly. “That’s the crux of the matter. Isn’t it?”

Alex waited. After a moment, Bruce dropped his eyes again.

“He doesn’t understand. Commanders bear responsibility not just for their own actions but for those of the people under their command. They are always… always held to a more exacting standard.”

Alex nodded, but he was frowning as though he didn’t quite comprehend.

Bruce continued. “Batman is a vigilante. He reports to nobody.” Jim came close sometimes. Or… Alfred. Bruce squelched the thought. “I set protocols,” he winced at the word, “not just for those who join me, but for myself as well. If I don’t have ground rules, the risk of… of falling into the abyss is too great. But I, more than the others, have to abide by those standards. If I were to bend them once, there would be a temptation to bend them again in the future. Better not to take that step.”

Alex’s frown deepened. “I’m puzzled,” he admitted. “In our past sessions, you’ve mentioned that you regret that your son seems to hold himself to those same standards. And yet, he’s been leading one team or another since he was thirteen. Why shouldn’t he be so exacting?”

“That’s not the same thing.” Bruce shifted position.

“Okay…” Alex said dubiously. “But I’m a little foggy on where the distinction lies.”

“Because that’s not who he is,” Bruce said finally.

“He’s not a leader?”

Bruce shook his head. “He’s not… aloof.”

“I’ve seen that,” Alex smiled. “But a good leader has to be aloof, right?”

Bruce froze.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said instantly. “I’m just trying to understand. If holding yourself to a higher standard is the price of command, and yet someone whose leadership skills you admire… either doesn’t conform or shouldn’t conform… which one was it, again?”

“He isn’t me!” Bruce snapped. He drew his breath in sharply. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Why should he have to make the same mistakes I have?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, his voice almost as low as Bruce’s had been, Alex asked, “Why should you have to continue to make them?”

At the beginning of March, Bruce’s furloughs were extended to two full days per week. He now left Arkham at 6 P.M. on Friday afternoons, returning forty-eight hours later. At that time of day, rush hour traffic could impact his curfew. Bruce knew that as long as he called in to notify his probation officer, all would be well. However, it still rankled him that he had to advise such a person as to his whereabouts. In point of fact, it rankled him to have to apprise anybody as to his whereabouts—but especially a probation officer.

He mentioned as much to Jim, when the older man arrived to pick him up that first Friday.

Jim smiled, a bit too broadly. “Now I know you’re getting better,” he explained. “If the little things are starting to annoy you this much…”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “Point taken.”

“In any case,” Gordon said, as he turned east onto a side street, “we’re going to make it home with time to spare, so it won’t be an issue.”

“Unless there’s a pile up on the Aparo,” Bruce said gloomily, “and the other cars decide to take the same detour that you have.”

Jim shook his head. “That won’t happen. Montoya’s decided to make it her business to see that we get back on time. We’re about to cross Brady-Williams Boulevard. Look out the window. Notice anything?”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. Portable barricades—the sort commonly used for crowd control during parades—blocked off the northbound and southbound lanes of the intersection. There were no cars ahead of or behind them.

Jim grinned. “You’ve got friends in some fairly high places. Our route is off-limits to through traffic,” he smirked, “buses excepted, between the hours of five-thirty and seven PM on Fridays. We’ll be home in about a half hour.” Jim chuckled. “Relax.”

Easier said than done, Bruce thought to himself. He was, quite frankly, stunned by this turn of events. “How?” He asked, sounding dazed.

“I guess,” Jim shrugged, “it all came down to politics. Renee’s on friendly terms with a few people at the mayor’s office. She made some calls and…” He let his voice trail off and took his eyes off the road for an instant to glance at his passenger. The only time he’d ever seen that expression grace Bruce’s face had been at the Christmas party over two months ago.

He signaled his left turn onto Repovski Street automatically, despite the absence of other vehicles behind him.

Cass sat cross-legged on the living room floor, facing the playpen, a thin paperback book open on her lap. Inside the enclosure, Helena stood clutching the cushioned rim and babbling happily.

“D… an… Dan,” she read aloud, “and To-ommm… Tom! Dan and Tom grrrab S… amm’s hands.” She stopped. “Dan and Tom grab Sam’s hands,” she repeated more confidently. She leaned forward and reached for a chubby hand. “Like I grab your hand, right?” She asked gently.

Helena squealed and extended her other hand toward Cass.

“You want to come out now?” She asked. “Out?”

Helena’s eyes became saucer-like. She nodded twice.

The young woman sighed, not unhappily. “I take you out, I have to watch you. Means I have to read this later.” She let the book slip to the floor. “So much to be done.” She lifted the baby out, then spun on her knees to face Bruce. She seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be talking to Helena as she continued. “But you don’t care, you just want out now, right?”

Bruce froze.

Cass kept looking down at Helena. “Rule is, I have to finish three pages before patrol and two pages before sleep.” She bounced the baby gently. “I think rule is stupid. Barbara says that’s okay as long as I follow. Says one day I thank her for it.” She grimaced. “Some friend, right?”

She looked up at Bruce. “I want to patrol tonight. Can you take her?”

Bruce held out his arms, smiling as Cass passed Helena forward. “Do you always talk to her like that?” He asked with a faint smile.

Cass shrugged. “She listens. Even if she doesn’t understand. I think I like that more than if she understood but… didn’t listen.” She turned around and looked down to retrieve the book. “If someone won’t listen, then no point saying anything anyway.” She faced him again. “Right?”

Bruce swayed gently back and forth, rocking Helena. “I imagine you heard me in the other room just now,” he said.

“Door was open. I couldn’t help it.” She bit her lip. “Some rules are stupid.”

He nodded.

“You going to follow anyway?”

He nodded again. “But I do appreciate the pep talk.”

Cass blinked. “Pep ta-oh!” She smiled broadly. “Bruce, that was for me. To help me focus. But if it works for you too, then good.”

That was the second time she’d made her point in a way that preserved his dignity. She was developing into quite the diplomat, he realized. He wondered who had been coaching her.

“Your reading seems to be coming along well,” he said.

She beamed at him. “You want to hear more? Sometimes I make mistakes.”

Bruce settled down on the sofa. “Understandable. You’ll improve.”

“I know. Practice makes perfect.” Cass rolled her eyes. “E-ventually.” She sighed dramatically as she flipped back to the proper page. “Tuh-hey… no. Sorry. They. They pu-ull Sam up…” She broke off. “It’s just so… frustrating.”

Bruce nodded. “I can relate.”

Sunday Night

“Thanks for the tip about the East Riders, Oracle,” Selina said. Her whip snaked upward, snapping and coiling around a potted plant that was sitting on a second-floor fire escape. A moment later, another gang member was down for the count, surrounded by dry soil and pottery shards. The thug was going to have a major headache when he came to.

“No worries,” the dulcet computerized voice responded. “Plenty of mooks to go around. I don’t mind sharing.”

Catwoman kicked another punk in the abdomen, as she lashed out with her claws toward a third. That one was lucky enough to shrink out of her range fast enough.

“Cute.”

“Yeah, it was…” Abruptly, the synthetic voice gave way to a human one. “Seeing Bruce with Helena the other day.”

She leaped forward, her claws extended to slice open the cheek of another gang member.

“That was something, wasn’t it?” She laughed. “I always thought he’d be good with kids but…” Her tone turned serious. “Hang on a second, Red. Loose end.”

Barbara waited patiently, wincing a bit as she heard the grunts and groans of the remaining ‘Riders.

“All tied up,” Selina announced brightly a moment later. “Where were we?”

“Bruce.”

“Right. Yeah, seeing him in action… Can I ask you something?”

Barbara grinned. “Shoot.”

There was a pause. Then, hesitantly, “Are you… worried about being linked to Dick?”

For a moment, Barbara was too surprised to answer. “Worried?”

“Given that everyone knows about his connection to Bruce, I mean. Does it worry you that your association with him makes you… makes you more of a target?”

Comprehension dawned. Barbara took a deep breath. “I’m used to taking a few risks,” she said carefully. “I have a slew of safety precautions, and I’m always on the lookout for new ones, but at the end of the day…”

“At the end of the day,” Selina blurted, “I’m happy to take those same risks. But I don’t know if I can do that where Helena’s concerned.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled. “I told Dick before that it was up to Bruce if he wanted the two of us in his life. It’s what I want. But…” She took a deep breath. “I’m not one of you Justice League types, sacrificing my life to save the planet or some garbage like that. But if it comes down to Helena’s life or my hap—” She bit off the words abruptly. “As if I could be ‘happy’ if G-d forbid something happened to her! G-d! I don’t know what to do. I—Shi—!”

“CATWOMAN!”

Silence. Then, a moment later, “Sorry. My last jump was a little short. Good thing I had my whip or things could’ve gotten messy.” She sighed. “Maybe I should stop worrying about how dangerous having Bruce in my life could be, and re-examine myself a little more.”

Barbara waited until she was sure that Selina was finished. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she admitted. “I mean, I know what I want to tell you. Namely, that I can set you up with the best security system money can’t buy—because half of it isn’t on the market yet. Then, I could remind you that Catwoman has made a few enemies also, and that it’s equally likely that Helena could be targeted because of a caper you pulled off years ago. I could go on to point out that with my father being the commissioner—former commissioner now—as well as Batman’s best friend, I was a target long before I ever started going out with Dick Grayson. All of that’s true.” She took a deep breath. “It’s also true that you have a daughter who is barely one year old. And that no security system is impregnable.”

“So you think that I…”

“What I think isn’t important. Not this time.”

“Which means you think I should keep Bruce in our lives,” Selina stated. “But that I’m not exactly being unrealistic given the risks involved.”

It was now Barbara’s turn to pause. “Correct,” She admitted. “One thing, though. If anything were to happen to Helena, and Bruce found out about it? Do you think for one minute that he wouldn’t find whoever was responsible, no matter where they were hiding?”

Selina nodded to herself. Barbara was right. But then she heard herself asking “But would he find them in time?”

Barbara had no answer.

In the Scituate—an area once known colloquially as the ‘Sports Quarter’, Batman listened attentively to the conversation coming through over a small transmitter. The tip he’d received from one of his regular sources had been good. The Gotham Knights pitcher was indeed being pressured to throw the upcoming game.

The Dark Knight set his jaw firmly. Protection rackets… blackmail… he had relatively low tolerance for such things.

“Batman!” Oracle’s voice practically shrieked in his ear. “Drop what you’re doing and get to Arkham, stat!”

“What?”

“Turn on the radio. Any station—it doesn’t matter. The warehouse district is in flames and… Batman… so’s the asylum.” Her voice faltered. “Dick… Arkham’s burning as we speak, and I-I haven’t heard any reports yet to confirm who’s made it out.”

Dick felt as though he’d been sucker-punched. “Copy that, Oracle,” he said faintly. “I’m on my way.”

I’m coming, Bruce. Hang on. I’m coming…