Dedication: To Woolf, my soul mate.

"Savanna sorry for being late. I was unavoidably detained." Bruce kissed her as he handed her the roses and when she smiled at him he knew he had been forgiven.

"You look scrumptious." Savanna giggled at the compliment but Bruce felt he was only stating a fact. Bruce enjoyed a unique relationship with Savanna. A relationship with no strings attached. That, he supposed was the real reason he was still with her and also the reason he felt so comfortable.

"Bruce, shall we go? I want to show off my dress to Sophia. I spent all day finding it and I know she will simply be green with envy. Her birthday is tomorrow and I have been teasing her about becoming twenty-four on the twenty- fourth. I think I'll give her earrings for her birthday. Do you want to go with me tomorrow while I pick them out?"

Savanna and Bruce had been walking slowly arm and arm to the waiting car. They were in no particular hurry and Bruce was enjoying the soft alluring scent of her perfume. As they approached the car Alfred greeted Miss Miles and dutifully opened the door. Once settled inside Savanna decided to ask Bruce again.

"So are you going shopping with me tomorrow?" She smiled openly at him. A beautiful smile he thought.

"What is tomorrow?" Bruce asked more or less just to have something to say. Her perfume sure did smell Heavenly.

"The twenty-fourth Bruce. Remember I said Sophia was turning twenty-four on the twenty- fourth. Honestly don't you listen at all?"

"I'm sorry Savanna I just can't concentrate when you're this close to me." She smiled and winked at him laughing softly.

"I bet you say that to all the girls." Savanna waited for a denial but Bruce only smiled.

"Okay you were saying that Sophia... Who's Sophia?"

"Bruce she's my cousin. I told you that earlier. I don't believe you listen to me at all!" Savanna was beginning to get upset but Bruce hardly noticed.

"O.k. your cousins birthday is tomorrow and you want to buy earrings. She will be twenty four and tomorrow is the twenty-fourth right?"

"Finally, so are you going shopping are not?"

Bruce didn't hear her last question. His head was spinning and he had a bad feeling in his gut. That's the reason Dick came over. Why hadn't he realized it earlier? Perhaps because he was to pre-occupied with feeling sorry for himself.

"Alfred tomorrow is June twenty-fourth?"

"Yes sir. I believe that is what your earlier meeting was pertaining to." Alfred sighed a breath of relief. Perhaps Master Bruce wasn't as far-gone as he had earlier thought. The concern in Bruce's voice once he realized the date touched him. There was still hope for Bruce. Alfred would not give up on him and he would not allow Dick to either.

There was a deep silence from Bruce. Savanna began to feel very uncomfortable.

"Bruce, what's wrong?" His face was solemn now and his silence was still unbroken. Savanna felt as though Bruce was no longer with her. He was a million miles away. She reached tenderly for his hand and out of reflex he withdrew. She didn't understand his sudden mood change. She knew however that there was very little about Bruce Wayne that she did understand.

"Savanna, something has come up. I won't be able to accompany you to the banquet." Bruce's voice was husky and distant. Savanna did not argue.

"Alfred please stop at the next light. I will be getting out but please see to it that Miss Miles gets to the banquet and home again this evening."

"Of course sir. Very good sir."

Alfred was pleased. Savanna was angry. Bruce wondered what it was that he was feeling. It didn't really matter; he had to find Dick.

Alfred stopped at the next traffic light although it was green. Bruce reached over and though he tried to hide his distress, Savanna felt the distance between them as he kissed her on the cheek. He left the car and Savanna's cold glare and stood on the curb as he watched Alfred drive away. "Have a good time Vanna." He whispered.

Walking briskly, he spotted a phone booth nearby. He decided to call to find out if Dick was at his apartment. Once he found out he could call a cab. The quicker he got to Dick the better. Damn. How could he have forgotten that tomorrow was the anniversary of the day Dick's parents were killed? It had been so many years ago and yet Dick's pain hadn't diminished one bit. Bruce knew from personal experience that it never would. He couldn't leave Dick to himself, not now. The boy simply had no one else that really understood. It didn't matter about the differences between them. They shared that common bond and Bruce was the only one who could help ease his pain. He was doing this for Dick, he told himself. He wouldn't get emotionally involved again. He wouldn't let the boy get to him. He would help him get through his June twenty-fourth and that would be the last of it. After all, he owed Dick that much for all the times Dick had been there for him.

There was no answer at the apartment. Bruce was the only one Dick would have turned to and Bruce had turned away. Suddenly, Bruce didn't feel very good about himself. Dick wasn't supposed to get hurt. This was all wrong. He tried calling Dick's apartment again. Still there was no answer. Where would he go? Bruce called a cab to take him to Dick's apartment. He would wait there for him. No matter if it took all night.

"Take me to 103 Mitchell Avenue. There's an extra hundred in it for you if you step on it."

"Sure thing there Mac".

The cab driver, a short man with a thick frame stared at his fair through his rear view mirror. Looked okay enough. He didn't appear to be a weirdo. That is, a murderous type. Vinne was always careful picking up his fairs since the time he had been beaten and robbed about a year ago. He probably would have been killed if the Batman hadn't showed up. Yeah, he really owed that guy. There were three that robbed him. The Batman got two of them but the third got away. He got away with Vinne's whole paycheck. Vinne had just sunk to the ground in despair. The Batman stayed with him until the ambulance got there. The next morning when Vinne woke up, his paycheck was on the pillow beside him. He never got the chance to thank him. Vinne looked again to the back seat. Why had he thought about the Batman now? Sure wasn't this guy that brought back the memory Vinne thought. This guy was too uptown. The Batman was a man of the streets. An uptown guy like this one wouldn't last five minutes in the real world and Vinne smiled to himself at the thought.

"Okay Mac. We're here. 103 Mitchell Avenue. You sure you got the address right? This don't look like your part of town."

Bruce paid Vinne and exited the cab without further comment.

"Mac, you want me to wait? This is a dangerous part of town."

"I'll be fine". Came the husky reply.

"Whatever Mac."

Mitchell Avenue was an apartment complex in the run down section of Gotham. 103 was a wooden four-plex that looked as though it should have a condemned sigh draped across it. This is where Dick had rented an apartment. Since he refused any financial help from Bruce, Mitchell Avenue was all he could afford. Bruce had never been to Dick's apartment. He had assumed that Dick wouldn't take anything that wasn't adequate. Now he thought apparently he was wrong.

Bruce had to get passed a couple of wino's that had plenty to say about the man wearing a five hundred-dollar suit. After he entered the building however there was only quiet, too much quiet. As he approached apartment C, Bruce took a few small tools out of his pocket and jimmied the lock. The door silently opened and Bruce stepped inside.

Three a.m. still no signs of Dick. Bruce had been calling Dick's friends all night. He also called Alfred but he didn't have any ideas as to his whereabouts either. He tried hospitals to make sure he hadn't been in an accident, nothing, thank God.

This is crazy he said to himself. Here I am promising myself that I won't get involved and I'm out of my mind with worry. He settled down in the recliner by the phone. He turned on the television but didn't turn up the sound. He wondered briefly if Dick would be angry that he had broken into his apartment. He didn't care. Dick could yell at him all he wanted to, just as long as he was safe.

Bruce glanced at the coffee table. There were numerous photo albums out. Poor kid. He must have been looking at pictures of his family. Bruce left his chair and picked up one of the open albums. To his surprise the pictures were of Bruce and not Dick's biological parents. Bruce had taken nine year old Dick Grayson into his home and his heart after Dick's parents had been killed. He had raised him as his own, teaching him all that he knew of crime fighting. Dick became Batman's first Robin the Boy Wonder. For a time the two shared a close bond, that is until Dick reached adulthood and no longer need a mentor. Bruce had not been able to accept or forgive the need for Dick to be on his own. Since Dick had shed his Robin persona and taken the name Nightwing, the two had barely spoken. Sadly Bruce took the albums and settled back into the chair. He stared at the phone for a long moment. He wished Dick would call. Why would he though? He had no way of knowing Bruce was there. Bruce went through the photo albums remembering the pictures one by one. Memories are dangerous he thought. I shouldn't look at these, it won't change anything. Still, he looked at the albums page after page. He felt so lonely, but by mornings first light sleep had taken him. There was a relief from the pain, if only for a little while.

Twelve-thirty p.m. Bruce awoke to the ringing phone. He fumbled with the cord almost dropping the receiver. He didn't even have the phone to his hear before he heard Alfred's anxious voice.

"Master Bruce has there been any word?"

"No Alfred, I'm afraid not. What time is it? I must have fallen asleep."

"Sir it is a quarter to one. Shouldn't he have returned to his apartment by now? I am beginning to have an uneasy feeling about this."

Bruce didn't answer right away. His mind was concentrating on Dick. He called himself a detective and yet he couldn't even find his own son.

"I'll search the apartment one more time Alfred. Maybe I missed something that will tell us where he is. Call the airlines and find out if he has bought a ticket anywhere. If you don't have any luck there, find out if he has charted his own plane. Get back to me- soon.

Bruce hung up the phone without so much as a good-bye. He didn't have time for such formalities. I shouldn't have fallen asleep, he criticized himself. Once more he went through Dick's belongings. There was not even a faint clue. No clothes appeared to be missing and the suitcases were under his bed. There were groceries in the house. Milk was in the refrigerator and butter was left sitting out on the counter. All things added up that Dick had not pre-planned a trip. Bruce poured himself a cup coffee and decided to finish his inspection. Inside the bedroom tossed on his unmade bed was Dick's checkbook. Well that clinched it Bruce thought. Dick wouldn't leave town without money. The ringing of the phone broke his thoughts and he picked up the checkbook as he made his way back to the living room.

"Hello."

"Sir, I phoned the airlines and came up with nothing. How are things going there?" The anxiety in Alfred's voice was overwhelming. Bruce wondered how Alfred managed to make it through all the things that he and Dick had put him through.

"It doesn't appear that he planned a trip. He even left his checkbook and his credit cards are with it. Wait a minute Alfred, do you know someone named Benjamin Perate?"

"It does not seem familiar sir, why do you ask?"

"Dick has written several checks to him, find out who he is Alfred. Use the Downstairs files. I'll check back with you later. I'm going to leave a note here in case he comes back and then I'm going out looking for him. I'm not doing much good just waiting here."

Alfred copied down the name and assured Bruce that he would be waiting by the phone.

Bruce looked at the checkbook once more. Dick was paying a thousand dollars every week to Benjamin Perate. The last payment was made June twenty-third, yesterday. Bruce went through Dick's bedroom again in hopes of finding something with Benjamin Perate's name on it, maybe an address if he was lucky. To his dismay he found nothing. The kitchen clock read 1:30. Bruce called a cab and after three re-writes, left Dick a note.

Dick,

I came by last night and waited for you until 1:30 p.m. today. Alfred is concerned because you haven't returned, so when you get in give him a call.

Bruce

Once in the cab Bruce wasn't sure where to start but the best place is always at the beginning. He spent the rest of the afternoon checking out malls, parks, and riding stables. Dick had a strong affection for horses. In the past when something was troubling him Bruce had often found him on horseback. Today to Bruce's aggravation, Dick had sought out none of his usual refuges. After several hours of getting nowhere, and calling Alfred a million times, Bruce decided to go back to Dick's apartment. Maybe he was there but just wasn't calling in. After the way Bruce had acted the night before he couldn't really blame him.

"Where to now?"

"103 Mitchell Avenue, and I'll need you to wait for me."

"Mac, I've been waiting on you all day. How come an uptown guy like yourself don't have no wheels?"

Vinne received no answer. He had a feeling the guy in the back seat wasn't even listening. Vinne had been surprised that Mr. Uptown, as he was now calling Bruce, had survived his last encounter with Mitchell Avenue. He had been even more surprised when Mr. Uptown had called the company and specifically asked for Vinne to drive him all over Gotham City. At least the guy was a good tipper.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Bruce again found himself breaking into Dick's apartment. At least this time he knocked first. Once inside he saw a totally different apartment than he had left earlier that afternoon.

The apartment itself was in shambles with furniture that had been cut and tossed around and glass that lay shattered on the floor. Bruce searched first to see if Dick was there and possibly hurt. Once he realized that he wasn't, he started trying to remember where everything had been so he could access what was missing. Dishes were broken all over the kitchen and things had been knocked off the walls. He turned and saw a small plastic baggie bag peeking under a newspaper in the corner. The bag contained a small dusting of a white powder. Instinctively he went to it. For some reason it looked out of place to him. The closer Bruce came to the small plastic bag the more the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He picked it up carefully at the corners to preserve any fingerprints. Bruce opened the bag and sniffed its contents. It was definitely a drug of some type, though he wasn't sure which exact one it was. He reached to the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out another plastic bag. This one was much thicker. It was dark gray in color and would sufficiently hold this new evidence until he could examine it better in the Batcave. He stood up and looked around once more. The second glance revealed a turned over trashcan with a small brown mouse scurrying about inside. Bruce examined the trash piece by piece. He found late notice after late notice, bills and more bills. It appeared Dick had been in financial trouble for some time.

Bruce had a lump in his throat as he thought of the possible things Dick might have gotten himself involved in. If anything happened to him he felt he had no one to blame but himself. He should have been there for him, no matter the personal cost to himself.

A brown beat up looking, poor excuse for a desk lay on its side near the window. The two built in drawers were turned upside down, emptying its contents onto the floor. Bruce moved slowly over to it, almost dreading finding anything else. The mouse scurried across the floor running past Bruce's foot. He jumped as though there was an army of them and then smiled to himself. There was no doubt that he was uneasy here. He kept telling himself that he wasn't really spying on Dick, that he was only trying to help him. He still didn't feel at all comfortable with it and his jumpiness proved it.

In the first drawer he began searching even more diligently for something else to make it all make sense. There were more bills in the drawer and statements from Dick's charge cards saying they had been canceled due to lack of payment. Bruce sighed. When he and Dick had argued so fiercely about nothing either one of them could put their finger on, Dick had left leaving Bruce and security behind.

Dick had a generous trust fund and owned stock in the majority of Gotham City. In short Dick Grayson was a very wealthy man. Bruce had seen to that and had made sure Dick would never want for anything. He took care of him in life and in death. For it was Dick who would someday inherit the Wayne Fortune. Bruce had made sure in his will that Alfred would be very well taken care of for the rest of his life and when Jason had been alive he made sure that he too would never want for anything. The bulk of his estate however, had always been willed to Dick. Even though it was Jason that Bruce had adopted, from the first moment he held Dick in his arms he gave a piece of himself to him. The first night he had come to live with Bruce, Dick had cried hysterically all through the night. Bruce had held him and rocked him back and forth in his arms praying for the boy's pain to ease and promising that small boy he would love and protect him forever. That night something happened for both of them. A bond was formed that neither could walk away from. He had let that small boy inside his heart. Dick was not only his son; he was his best friend. He supposed the reason they had trouble getting along was that they were too much alike. At least that's what Alfred always told him. Cut from the same cloth he had said. Bruce doubted he would ever hear words more true. That was the reason for Dick's financial trouble. He was angry or hurt, or both and wouldn't accept Bruce's money even though it was in his name. Dick was a proud young man. He felt if he couldn't have Bruce's love that he didn't want his money either. What Dick didn't realize, because lately Bruce had not made it clear was how much he did love him. He was just too proud to say it first, just like Dick.

For the first time in quite awhile, Bruce actually stopped long enough to realize how stubborn he was being. He was missing out on so much because of his pride. He had caused Dick so much grief because he was trying to protect himself. He had kept telling himself he would never be able to handle it if something happened to Dick, if he lost him. Pushing Dick away hadn't come easy for him but he had told himself it was for the best. What he failed to realize until this moment was that by pushing him away, he did lose him. The one thing he feared most had come true and he had caused it. He had lost his son.

Bruce blinked hard trying to clear his mind of all these thoughts. If there were clues here he would never find them in his present state of mind. He sifted through the remaining items in the two drawers, finding a broken gold neck chain that he had given Dick for Christmas two years ago. The name of a woman with a phone number was scribbled on a piece of paper and on a separate piece of paper the initials B.P. with a note under it that read 6- 26- Wanstein Park, near fountain. Bruce collected everything he needed, quickly leaving the room. He locked the door as he left but he didn't know why he bothered. He just knew that what was left of the apartment belonged to Dick so his first instinct was to protect it.

Once in the hall, he broke into a run wondering all the way out the door if Vinne the cab driver would still be waiting. He had to get back home, back to the Batcave. He had to make all the pieces fit. Busting out the door, as though the building were on fire he saw his cab just as it had started to leave. Without taking the time to think he jumped down the front steps and was running after the cab before his feet even touched the ground.

Vinne was listening to his new country and western tape, singing off key and never once looked in his rear view mirror. Suddenly he hit the brakes almost loosing control of the car. The car came to an abrupt halt and Vinne's head barely missed the windshield. Swearing under his breath, he turned to look at the crazy man who had a hold of his shirt and the driver's side door. He was surprised to see the uptown fair that he had left behind was now hanging on to him with fire in his eyes.

Why Me? He asked himself sarcastically. Then looking at his uptown fair he added, "You're crazy Mac."

"You were supposed to wait for me" Came Bruce's simple reply.

"Yeah man, sorry. Hey don't worry; I won't leave you behind again. I can't afford to have a heart attack or a concussion."

Bruce smiled. He liked Vinne.

"Where to Mac?"

As they drove on out of the filthy city air, into the countryside Vinne told jokes and Bruce tried hard to be a good audience. If he wanted to do his best for Dick then he had to clear his mind and relax. Vinne was good medicine for him but the anxiousness in the pit of his stomach would not go away. He just prayed Dick was safe and that whatever trouble he was in, he could get him out of it.

The ride ended quickly and Bruce rewarded Vinne with a sizable tip. Walking up the driveway he wondered what he was going to tell Alfred. He didn't want to tell him about the drugs but he knew he couldn't hold anything back from his old friend. Alfred would know if he did. He barely made it the front door before Alfred had it open.

"Sir, any word?"

"No Alfred, I'm afraid I haven't heard anything. What did you find out about Benjamin Perate?"

"Drugs, prostitution and a part time loan shark."

Neither of the two men said anything for over an hour. The last statement was still ringing in their ears. Dick was paying this man a thousand dollars every week. That said enough. Dick was in trouble and neither of them knew what to say.

"I'm going out Alfred."

"Will you require your suit sir?"

Bruce thought hard about the question before answering. What tonight was to Dick and all the things between him and Dick were personal. Bruce knew he would reach Dick faster as Bruce Wayne than as Batman. He couldn't hide his feelings behind a mask this time. Tonight Dick needed Bruce and he felt he knew just where to look.

"No Alfred but I think I'll go change into some blue jeans. Would you bring the car around?"

"Yes sir but may I inquire as to which one?"

"The Mustang, Alfred."

Oh yes. Master Dick's favorite, excellent choice sir. It shall be waiting out front."

With that Alfred turned and went to perform his task. He seemed satisfied that Bruce was going back out to look for Dick and just as satisfied was Bruce that Alfred would be home manning the phones. Together they would cover all the bases. They both loved him and neither would rest until he was found.

As Bruce drove along the outskirts of town he let the windows down and felt the warm air as it blew his hair and eased his mind. He went over and over in his head the things he should say to Dick once he found him. He finally realized that it would do him no good to rehearse. No, this talk had waited to long; this talk had to come from the heart. He drove into town and with a heavy heart pulled into Gotham Cemetery. This was the last place he could think of to look and he drove slowly so as to not alert Dick of his presence. Just as he predicted Dick was at his parent's grave. His body was lying across the two graves as if he were dead too. Bruce parked the car far enough away that Dick didn't notice him. As he slowly walked to him, his heart was racing wondering the same thing he wondered ever year. What can I say to him to help ease his pain?

As he approached he heard his screaming and his uncontrollable crying. Dick was gasping for air because he was crying to hard to breathe. Bruce forgot about the right thing to say and he forgot about protecting himself. He ran as fast as his athletic legs would take him. Straight to that small boy he had ran to so many years ago, the boy who was now a man. He grabbed Dick before he realized he was there. He embraced him strongly, yet gently. He pulled Dick to him resting Dick's head on his shoulder and held it there with strong loving hands.

"Bruce?" Dick could barely speak.

"It's okay. I'm here."

Dick felt the strength of the man that held him. He needed that strength. He didn't have any of his own left. He put his arms around Bruce's neck and cried. He didn't know why Bruce had come for him but he had, and at that moment that's all that mattered.

A soft misty rain began to fall over Gotham City. Lightening brightened the sky as it danced across it. There was no thunder however. There was no sound at all except the soft raindrops as they fell to the ground. The rain falling, and someone crying. Bruce held that someone tightly in his arms. He whispered over and over again "It's okay, I'm here". Dick's pain was deep and it didn't all involve his parents. All the problems with Bruce and a failed romance with his first love Barbara Gordon AKA Batgirl had a hand in it too.

Dick felt so out of control as he screamed and shook. Bruce was right there though; telling him everything would be all right. Dick wondered if he meant it, or if it was just words. Bruce began rocking him back and forth and gently stroking his hair. As he did Dick realized something for the first time in a long time. Bruce did care. He sunk heavily into his arms. He had been crying for countless hours and his body finally gave over to exhaustion.

Bruce slowly and gently picked Dick up and took him to the car. The rain soaked the car seats but neither of them seemed to notice. He placed Dick carefully in the passenger's side and rolled up the window. Walking to his side of the car he stopped and glanced over at the tombstone.

"Don't worry Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, I'll take care of him" Bruce whispered under his breath. He looked at the young man half-laying, half sitting in his seat. He was sorry Dick's parents had died but he couldn't be sorry that Dick had come into his life. Maybe there was a reason for everything. He thought about nothing but that as he drove back to Wayne Manor.

"Master Bruce, did you find him sir?" Alfred had met Bruce as he pulled into the driveway. He paid no attention to the rain as he became thoroughly soaked awaiting Bruce's reply.

"I have him here beside me Alfred. Please go open the door for me."

Alfred quickly responded. He had a smile of relief on his face and he watched anxiously as Bruce got Dick out of the car. Bruce picked Dick up with little effort and carried him to the front door.

"Oh no, is he hurt?" Alfred's smile was gone and was replaced with an expression of panic. "Is he hurt Master Bruce?" Alfred repeated. He had not yet given Bruce time to reply.

"Not physically. I found him at the cemetery. Lord knows how long he had been there. Between the crying and the screaming I think he has worn himself out."

Bruce looked down at the young man he was carrying. So much pain for one so young he thought. Dick was still out of it and that had Bruce worried. He carried him upstairs and put him in his old room. As he placed him on the bed Dick's eyes fluttered and he whispered "Bruce?" Bruce's voice was soft as he answered. "It's all right, you're home now. Try to rest."

Alfred came from behind them with clean dry clothes and quickly changed Dick. Then he began lecturing Bruce to do the same. The man thought nothing of himself as he stood there taking care of his two favorite people. Bruce smiled as he thought of several times over the years that Alfred had taken care of them first and himself somewhere else down the line.

"All right, all right, I'm going". He knew it would do him no good to tell Alfred to go first. So like an obedient child he went. He came back dry and practically had to fight with Alfred to get him to leave Dick long enough to do the same. Finally Alfred agreed and Bruce sat down on the bed beside him with tears in his eyes.

"Thank God you're all right". He looked down on him. He looked so peaceful as he slept. Bruce took his hand and for the first time since Jason died found himself praying. He had been so angry when Jason died that he had turned his back on everything. Now he knew he couldn't do it all by himself. He realized he needed help.

The night went by slowly. Only an occasional roar of thunder could be heard. Bruce had fallen asleep in a roomy chair that he had pulled up next to the bed. Alfred however didn't sleep. He kept a constant watch on the two. If Dick so much as turned over or Bruce made the slightest sound then Alfred was there. This was his family and he felt very needed here.

The cheerful sound of birds singing softly woke Bruce. He stretched several times, yawning and rubbing his neck. He was unaware of Alfred's presence, until he approached him. Without even a word he applied a heating pad to Bruce's neck and shoulder.

"How did you know? How do you always know?" Bruce asked the questions knowing he would not be answered. He once again found himself wondering what he would do without Alfred.

"Alfred, you look tired. Are you all right?"

"Yes thank you Master Bruce. However I am concerned for young Master Dick". Alfred's tone was solemn and Bruce sat up quickly in his chair. The pain returned and reminded him of the reason for the heating pad and he reapplied it quickly.

"What's wrong Alfred? Is something wrong with Dick? Why didn't you wake me?"

"He is running a bit of a fever I'm afraid sir. From fatigue and being out in the weather I presume. However that is not what concerns me most."

Alfred slowly handed Bruce the jeans Dick had worn the night before. Noticing the puzzled look, Alfred drew in a deep breath before he explained.

"These are the jeans Master Dick was wearing last night. After he was changed into dry clothes I took them to the laundry room." Alfred's voice was low. He was trying hard not to wake the exhausted young man beside them. Alfred hesitated before continuing. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was betraying Dick somehow.

"Okay, I give up. What's the big deal about a pair of jeans?" Bruce smiled as he teased Alfred. He had no idea where this was leading.

"I found this in his pocket". There he had said it. It was out in the open now and somehow Alfred felt sure that Bruce would know what to do next.

Bruce reached for the suspicious bag full of a white powder. Dropping his heating pad he examined the contents. Alfred didn't speak a word. He simply rose from the bed and walking over to the table, poured himself and Bruce a cup of coffee.

Bruce reached out and touched Dick's hand. He was in shock at what he had seen and he didn't want to trust his own eyes. He passed on Alfred's offer for a cup of coffee with the shake of his head. He stared at Dick for the next three hours.

Still holding his hand, he tried desperately to make some sense of it all. Despite many attempts from Alfred to start a conversation Bruce said nothing. The hard cold facts had left him with nothing he could say. He felt so much rage. Rage at him and at whoever got Dick into this. At that moment it did not occur to him to be angry with Dick. Dick was a good kid. If he had gotten into drugs then someone was going to pay. Sitting there still holding Dick's hand Bruce promised that. Whoever had gotten Dick into this was going to be very sorry indeed. Dick's sudden violent jerking interrupted Bruce's thoughts of revenge.

"Alfred!"

Alfred was quickly beside him and together the two tried to comfort him. Dick was screaming Mom and Dad, over and over. He was still fast asleep and Bruce shook him hard to wake him. Waking and realizing where he was, Dick took in a few deep breaths and sat up. He was weak and disoriented. He was not so out of it however that he failed to notice the looks on Bruce and Alfred's face. Alfred realized he needed to start a conversation before Bruce got the chance. He knew Bruce was close to losing his temper by the fact he had not spoken in so long. Whenever Bruce got that quiet it was dangerous.

"Good to see you awake sir. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck Alfred". Dick's voice was rough and scratchy.

Bruce began pacing the floor and Alfred knew what would come next. He was powerless to stop it and so decided to leave them both to it. Listening to them argue was something he could not stand.

"I will go fix you some breakfast Master Dick. Eggs lightly scrambled bacon extra crispy and hot biscuits with honey. How does that sound?"

"Great! It's good to be home Alfred. Nobody cooks like you! Don't forget the orange juice."

Alfred smiled. Dick sounded so relieved to be home. Alfred only hoped that all that wasn't about to change.

"I will be back in a few minutes then. Master Bruce, would you care for breakfast?"

A hard gaze met Alfred and he wished he hadn't asked. He walked reluctantly out of the room.

Bruce continued to walk the floor folding and unfolding his fist, in an unsuccessful attempt to hold his temper in check. Finally he could hold his tongue no longer and he blurted out the only question on his mind.

"Why?"

"Why what? What's wrong?"

Dick sat attentively awaiting an answer. He seemed to have no idea what could be bothering Bruce. This angered Bruce even more. He wanted answers and not an innocent routine. He sat down hard on the bed his eyes fixed on Dick's. Intimation was one of the Batman's tricks but at this point he would use any tools available to him.

"Why drugs? Didn't I raise you better than that? Didn't I raise you to be smarter than that?"

Bruce's voice roared through the room and throughout the house. Alfred flinched and continued walking to the kitchen. He wanted to tell Bruce to back off, to take it easy. It simply wasn't his place though. How can you tell someone how to raise his child? He knew he had better hurry with breakfast or Dick would leave before eating. He knew Dick would leave. It happened to many times before. Bruce would blow up and Dick, unable to get through to him would leave. He hurried toward the kitchen to take care of the task at hand.

"Oh, that. Well there's a story behind that. If you've got about two days."

Dick's voice was quiet and even. He showed no signs of being upset or being ashamed. In fact he seemed almost amused. This action horrified Bruce, and in an effort to protect, he found himself taking over as he always did.

"You can tell me when you get out. We are leaving right after breakfast."

Bruce's tone was firm, his voice final. Dick stared back at him blankly. For the second time in just a few minutes, Bruce had again lost him.

"What are you talking about now? The only place I'm going after breakfast is back to bed."

"I'm taking you to a retreat hospital and I don't want to hear any arguments. Obviously you aren't mature enough to make your own decisions, so until you are I'll make them for you!"

Bruce rose from the bed and walked over to the phone. Flipping through the phone books that lie beside it on the table he found the number of the best hospital in Gotham. He dialed the number and asked for Dr. Franklin. She had done remarkable work with drug addictions all over the country and was currently in Gotham. Bruce decided to take full advantage of that fact. He spoke to her, made an appointment and after thanking her said good-bye. Throughout the conversation he had his eyes fixed on Dick. Dick had no facial expression what so ever. He stared blankly out the window and seemed not to even notice what was going on around him. Bruce was worried even more about his reaction than about the drugs and that was saying something.

"Dick are you all right? You look pale. Say something son."

Dick turned back to face him. What could he say to him? He decided to let Bruce believe he was the one in control. At the moment at least it was easier.

"I'm sorry Bruce. It's not as bad as you think though."

Then meeting Bruce's inquisitive stare he added, "I mean I can quit any time I want."

"I don't believe what I'm hearing! Damn it how did you get into this and why? Well this shows what I know about parenthood. I failed you son and I'm sorry."

"Breakfast is served. I hope everything is to your liking Master Dick? Will you be needing anything else?"

"It looks great Alfred. Thank you. Alfred can I talk to you for a minute? Alone."

Alfred turned to see Bruce's hurt look although he tried to hide it. As was the rule rather than the exception in these cases, Alfred was in the middle.

"Of course sir. That is if it is all right with you Master Bruce?"

"Why should I care? He's just my son!" Bruce walked out of the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

"Now sir. What is it?"

"Alfred do you know what Bruce is upset about?"

"Indeed I do sir. We are both most concerned."

"He wants to put me in a retreat hospital."

"I see. Do you feel it would help? Master Bruce is only trying to do what he thinks is best."

"He has no right to make my decisions for me! It's as if he thinks I'm a total idiot. He's not even my father!"

Dick spoke out of anger but it didn't make the words any less sharp. Alfred wished he hadn't heard them.

"Isn't he? Hasn't he always been the one to love and care for you? Would your own father have done any more for you? I doubt it sir. The Master is a bit strong willed but he means well. Also let us not forget he doesn't really have a parental role model to go by. He is making this up as he goes along. Perhaps you could try to be a bit more forgiving.

"Of course. It's my fault. I should have known you would take his side. Well who the hell is going to take mine?"

"Young Master, shall I point something out that you have undoubtedly overlooked?"

"And what would that be?"

"Master Bruce and myself love you very much. As for sides, we are now and have always been on yours. As I mentioned earlier perhaps you could be a bit more forgiving. Not just forgiving of Master Bruce but also of yourself. It seems to me that both of you spend an awful amount of time beating yourselves up about things from your past that cannot be changed. It is past time Master Dick that you both look to the future."

"I guess you're right. How did you get so smart?"

"We all have our gifts I suppose. Eat your breakfast now before it is to cold to consume. I will tell Master Bruce you need to see him."

Alfred found Bruce exactly where he knew he would find him, in his study staring at the grandfather clock. He had set the hands to the exact time his parents had been killed. Whenever he was hurting, Alfred would find Bruce sitting in the old brown chair that belonged to his father and staring at the old grandfather clock. It sent chills down Alfred even after all these years and all the countless times he had found Master Bruce in exactly the same position. Walking to the clock, he reset it at the correct time and went back to stand in front of the old brown chair.

"Master Dick should be about through with his breakfast. He wants to see you."

"Does he? Well he won't when I've finished with him! He's got some questions to answer!"

Jumping up from the security of his father's chair, Bruce ran up the stairs busting open the bedroom door.

"What do you know about Benjamin Perate? I want the truth Dick. I know you are involved with him so don't bother lying to me. Tell me!"

Bruce grabbed Dick's arm turning his body towards him.

"Son, answer me!"

Then realizing how abrupt he was being, he added something to his last statement.

"Please."

"Ben is the best thing that ever happened to me. He's well, he's like a father to me."

"Are you out of your mind Dick? Perate is a drug dealer. Evidently you are living proof of that. What kind of a hold does this man have over you? Tell me. Whatever it is you've gotten into I'll get you out of but you have to level with me."

Dick took his hand and removed Bruce's strong grip on his arm. He was beginning to look annoyed and even slightly bored.

"I don't see what all the shouting is about. I needed someone and Ben was there for me. He showed me the way. He is my family now."

"Your family! This new father of yours, is he the one giving you the drugs?"

"They are not drugs, not in the sense that you mean. They are a special blend of herb that have been purified for easier accessibility."

"And what purpose do they serve Dick?"

"To bring peace to the human soul. Something you know nothing about and couldn't possibly understand."

"Can you hear yourself? Purified herb! Dick this man is a drug dealer and apparently a con artist to boot. Nothing can bring peace to a man's soul except religion and I doubt Benjamin Perate is selling that!"

"You don't understand Bruce. You never have, and you never will."

Dick reached over beside the chair and picked up his tennis shoes. He felt he had outstayed his welcome. It was time to leave.

"Where do you think you are going? Do you honestly believe I'm just going to let you walk right out of here and back into the hands of Perate? You'll have to get passed me first!"

Alfred couldn't believe what he was hearing and worse he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Both men had their fists raised in anger.

"Stop this! Have you both gone mad?"

"I'm not letting him go back to Perate!"

"You are not my father and you have no say over what I do. Get out of my way Wayne now!"

"You are a spoiled little child in a man's body. You are going to the retreat hospital and that is final!"

"I'll tell you what's final. Us that's what's final."

"I don't understand what you mean Dick. Just what are you saying?"

"We are finished and that's final."

"You're right Dick, we are through. That's what is final". Bruce's voice was cold and empty. He didn't turn to look at Dick's face.

"Bruce."

Dick's voice was almost pleading. He hadn't meant to lose his temper. He hadn't meant to let it go this far.

"Get all your things together. Everything you need from this house because once you leave it you will never be welcome here again. Alfred will drive you to your apartment. Good luck and good-bye."

Bruce turned abruptly staring Dick directly in the eyes for a long silent moment and then left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Alfred, what have I done?"

Dick sat on the bed visibly shaking. He felt the weight of his actions. He knew there was nothing he could do to change things now; it had all gone too far.

"Perhaps you could apologize". Alfred sat down on the bed beside Dick and put his arm around his shoulder. "He loves you so Master Dick but you've hurt him. He'll never make the first move now."

"I'm tired of trying Alfred. It seems we've been working on this relationship forever. I think it's time we stopped beating a dead horse. I never meant to hurt him Alfred. I wish like hell that I hadn't, but maybe it's better that we both walk away now before it gets any worse."

Dick rose from the bed and walked over to a picture on the dresser. The picture was of himself and Bruce taken shortly after he had come to live at Wayne Manor. He picked the picture up and looked deeply into it. He stared wistful at the smiles in the picture.

"I would give anything if things were the way they used to be. You can't go back and you can never go home again. Take care of yourself Alfred. You are one in a billion. I love you Alfred. I don't know if I ever told you or not but I really do."

Alfred stood up and walked to Dick, his arms extended. The two hugged for a brief moment until the opening of the door interrupted them.

"Well isn't this sweet." Bruce remarked sarcastically. "Are you ready to leave Mr. Grayson? I'll need Alfred back as soon as possible."

"Yes Bruce, I'm ready."

Dick looked at Bruce with guilty eyes. He knew how bad he had hurt him.

"Bruce."

"What?"

"I just want to say I'm sorry. I really am."

"Well as usual, that's to little to late."

"Bruce listen to me. I really am sorry." Dick reached for Bruce but he turned away.

"While we are apologizing let me take this opportunity to say I'm sorry for whatever it is that I've done to make you hate me so much. Now get out!"

Dick knew there was nothing else to say so he left Bruce where he was always the most comfortable, alone.

Alfred took Dick to his apartment saying hardly anything at all. His heart was heavy. If only he could make the two stop long enough to see the others point. He knew there was absolutely no way to do that however. If they worked things out it would have to be just the two of them. Alfred felt so helpless and he expressed it by not saying anything pertaining to the matters at hand. He discussed the weather briefly as he drove at least fifteen miles under the speed limit. He was in no hurry to leave Dick to himself. If Dick had developed a drug addiction through a friendship with a drug dealer then the last thing Alfred wanted to do was to leave him.

"Master Dick, perhaps I could stay with you for a time."

"Well you are always welcome Alfred, but why do you want to stay with me at this particular time? Honestly."

"Just until you can get things worked out sir. With you having problems with Master Bruce at the same time as the entrance of your questionable friend Mr.Perate into your life, well I would fell a lot better if I were nearby."

"Thank you Alfred. It is nice to know that someone cares. I really think I have to work through all this on my own."

"Well if you have learned anything from the Master I would say it would be that. I promise you if it wasn't for there only being a slight difference in your ages, I would swear you were his biological child. I suppose the good Lord above knew your natural parents would have only a short stay in this world, so he drew the two of you together. I believe he made you so much alike so you would be able to understand one another better."

That's a laugh. I don't understand him at all."

"Don't you? I think you understand him all to well. Unfortunately, you are as stubborn and strong willed as he is."

"Alfred, I really don't want to talk about Bruce anymore."

There was a long loud silence that fell over the two. It lasted long enough that they both began to feel uncomfortable.

"Alfred, I didn't mean to snap. I'm just over tired. Listen, don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll call you tomorrow."

Alfred sighed. Dick and Bruce were so much alike. There was little use in trying to talk to either one of them.

"Please do keep in touch Master Dick. If you need anything don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thanks again Alfred." Dick opened the car door and stepped outside.

"Master Dick, if for some reason you don't call tomorrow..."

"Yes Alfred?"

"Then I will be calling you."

"Okay Alfred. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Dick smiled to himself. He knew there was one person he could always depend on. A relationship he never had to try at. He thought more about that and more about what Alfred had said about he and Bruce being so much alike. He continued thinking about it throughout the long night.

“Master Bruce, I have been unable to reach Master Dick all day. I must say that I am getting worried.” Alfred had taken to pacing in front on Bruce’s desk. If the situation had been different Bruce would probably have found it amusing. Today however, his mood was too dark, his heart too heavy.

“It’s probably nothing Alfred but I guess I can go by his apartment and check it out.” Alfred tried to hide his pleased look but Bruce didn’t have to see it to know that it was there.

Bruce left in a hurry. It looked as though Dick were in trouble whether he was aware of it or not. Either way he wanted to be there. He had lied when he told Dick that they were through. In his heart Dick was his son. That's what was final.

After thoroughly examining the apartment he decided to call home.

"Alfred, have you heard from Dick?"

“He hasn’t called sir.”

“Alfred I'll be home soon. Have my suit ready. I have a stake out at Wanstein Park today. I found a note in the apartment. Dick is to meet Perate there. If nothing else maybe I'll finally see what this guy looks like. The note didn't have a time on it so I guess I'll wait it out."

"What if the meetings already occurred?"

"I don't know Alfred. It is the only solid lead I have."

"Are his things still in his apartment sir?"

"It's hard to tell the way this place looks. He didn't bother to clean up. His clothes and his picture albums are missing. Everything else seems to still be here."

"What could they have been looking for?"

"Probably drugs. Wherever Dick is, he's in deep trouble."

The crisp clean night air felt soothing to Batman's tired body. He inhaled it, holding it in his lungs for as long as possible and then reluctantly let it back out again. The masked avenger loved this time of year. The mighty oak tree on First Street changed to brilliant colors and Batman sat silently on its mighty limb enjoying the quiet night. He sat attentively watching Colleen's Antique Gift Shop as he had done every night for a week. Colleen Waters had been the name scribbled on a piece of paper that Batman had found in Dick's apartment. Along with the name was a phone number. It checked out to be Colleen's Antique Gift Shop. The shop itself was small and old. It had somewhat of a dingy appearance about it. Batman could see no possible reason for Nightwing to have taken the time to write down the number. There had to be more to this place than what met the naked eye.

The shop had reopened five days earlier but so far Mrs. Waters had not been there. Instead her son Ned seemed to be minding the store. Bruce Wayne had visited the Antique Gift Shop on its reopening day. He had taken Alfred along with him, for antiques were Alfred's passion, not his. Alfred had inquired of Mrs. Waters and Ned had volunteered little information. The most Alfred had gotten Ned to say was that his mother had gone to England to visit her brother. Once back at the Batcave that information turned out to be false. Batman had thoroughly checked out her background. She was an only child with no stepsisters or brothers. Mrs. Waters' husband had died two years ago and her life now seemed to be consumed with the finding, restoring and selling of antiques. Ned age 34 was her only child. He had been married once, now divorced with no children of his own. Batman could find nothing out of the ordinary about Mrs. Waters or her son. For some reason however Dick had written down her name and number and for another reason just as puzzling, Ned Waters was lying about his mother's whereabouts.

Batman shifted his weight. He hoped tonight would prove to be more fruitful than the ones of the last week. He felt a twitch in his stomach and wished once again that he had listened to Alfred. He should have eaten before embarking on an all night stake out. His appetite hadn't been what it used to be though. He hadn't slept to well lately either. Batman insisted to Alfred that sleep and food were necessary only when convenient and Batman hardly slowed down enough for them to be so. He had lost 30 pounds in the four months since he had last seen Dick.

The cool wind and restless leaves blowing about on the ground below him reminded Batman just how much time had gone by. He hadn't been able to find so much as a clue to Dick's whereabouts in all that time. It was as if he had vanished. Batman tried hard to think positive. Maybe it was a good thing that Dick covered his tracks so well. If someone were after him they would pay Hell finding him. Dick had a lot of talent plus years of fieldwork. If he wanted to get lost then he could do just that. Unfortunately, Batman thought, it was as aggravating as it was comforting.\

The beeping of his watch alarm brought Batman back to the present. It was 4:45 a.m. It would be daylight soon. This looked to be another uneventful, clueless night. He sighed heavily and began to climb down the tree. Maybe he was wasting his time with the Gift Shop. He certainly hadn't found anything that would indicate that they were anything other than what they appeared to be. So Ned Waters lied about his mother going to England. That wasn't a crime for the Batman.

Voices. The same cool wind that had chilled him earlier now brought to him two voices. One was familiar the other wasn't. Batman with speed and skill resumed his post in the oak tree just before the two men walked under it. They hadn't seen him. They were to intent on their conversation. Batman reached into one of the pockets inside his belt and pulled out a small tape recorder. He pushed record and waited.

"Ned, I don't think Ben's going to like this."

"Stop worrying Barry. I've got it all figured out. The plan is fool proof."

Ned Waters fumbled with his keys and went inside. The leaves went up in a whirlwind as if in the presence of evil. Batman quickly climbed down and made his way to the Batmobile parked a few blocks away. The bug planted by Alfred inside the shop would pick up the rest of the conversation. He drove fast to the Batcave in anticipation of what he was about to learn.

Morning's first light kissed the sky. Batman driving fast down the back roads hardly noticed it. His mind was filled with questions. His heart was filled with hope. After four exhausting months he finally had a lead. His foot sat heavily on the gas petal, his hands firm on the steering wheel. Maybe this time he would have some good news for Alfred. The roar of the engine faded once inside the Batcave and a familiar comforting silence filled the air. He was home.

He went quickly to the recording equipment he had set up. To his aggravation, he heard no voices and no background noises. He rewound the tape and after listening to it for over half an hour he again had heard nothing. Batman slumped in his chair. He was sure the equipment was in excellent condition so the only other alternative had to be that the bug had been discovered. He was back to square one, and he was tired.

He awoke six hours later feeling every bit as tired as he had before. He smiled to himself when he realized that he hadn't made it upstairs. He was still in the chair in front of the control panel in the Batcave. However, a pillow and a blanket had found its way to him. Batman yawned and stretched and then glanced around to see if Alfred was in the near vicinity. Alfred could be as quiet as a church mouse and had caught Batman off guard more than once. This time however, Alfred was nowhere around. Batman sat up deciding it was time to get back to work. He pulled the mini tape recorder out of his belt pocket and rewound it. He picked up a piece of paper and a pen and pressed play. Listening closely he wrote down everything that was said. Once that was accomplished he rewound the tape again and again listening for anything, any sound he might have missed. He thought he heard the sound of a door close just before the two men started talking. It didn't sound like a car door and the two had come from deep in the alley. The sound was a door to a building. He wondered why his own ears had not picked it up. That must have happened at the same time he was trying to get back up the tree and record the two men. That meant there was a third party, or had these two men closed a door that he was unaware of? If there was a third party had they seen him? He ran the name Barry through the Batcomputer under known acquaintances with Ned Waters and crossed referenced with Benjamin Perate. The name that came up was Barry Sanders, a known muscle man for Perate. Then there was a connection between Ned Waters and Benjamin Perate after all. Now all he had to do was find out what that was. First however, he decided he better eat something. His stomach wasn't feeling too good. Oh well, he told himself, I need to check on Alfred anyway.

"Alfred?"

"Yes Master Bruce, I am in the kitchen."

Batman entered the kitchen with a slight limp. His leg had fallen asleep. Alfred looked up and gave a disapproving glare.

"Really sir you are on Master Bruce's time now. I suggest you dress like it."

"Well aren't you in a good mood. I guess I forgot again Alfred, sorry."

"Yes, well, you seem also to keep forgetting to take time for a shave or a shower or a date or a board meeting or a ..." "Alright you have made your point. I know I've been preoccupied lately." "That sir is an understatement." Alfred's voice was cool. He was angry and Batman couldn't pretend not to know why. He had changed in the way he took care of himself. Alfred was angry because he cared. "I'm going now to shower and shave and change back into Bruce Wayne, okay?" "Bruce Wayne sir? Who is he?" Batman shook his head. He went upstairs and though he really didn't feel like it, he spent the next better part of an hour making him self-presentable. Once he was through he did feel better and he made up his mind once again to try and get some food. "Alfred what are my chances of getting something to eat?" "Excellent if you go to Burgers R US, I should think." "If I don't?" "There is the refrigerator and there is the stove. Your chances are as good as you make them." Bruce stared at Alfred for a long moment. He knew when not to push him. Picking up his car keys he started for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked surprised.

"I guess I'm going to Burgers R US..."

Bruce drove around for a few hours. The crisp air was relaxing and he found he could think better. He thought a lot about what Alfred had said and to everyone's amazement he showed up at his office at WayneTech.

"Mr. Wayne!"

"Hello Claira. I need the readings from the last four board meetings please, along with a financial report for the past six months and names of all current accounts. Oh, and could you rush it Claira? I'm kind of in a hurry."

The young secretary stared at Bruce Wayne in disbelief. The CEO hadn't even so much as called the office in four months. Now, he waltzes in and wants all the back reports. It must be nice, she thought, to be so carefree.

"I will get right on it sir. Sir? Here are your phone messages."

She handed Bruce a medium sized box filled with messages. Each one was dated. From first glance he could see several had been from Savanna. He sat the box on his desk and sat down. It did feel almost strange to be back at work.

"Sandy? Do we have today's paper around here anywhere?"

"There's one in the lobby. Would you like me to get it?"

Bruce smiled at Sandy. She had been with WayneTech a long time and was as faithful as the morning sunrise.

"I guess that grin means yes. I will be right back."

Bruce half heartily went through his phone messages. He sighed heavily and picked up the phone dialing Savanna's number.

"I'm sorry you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error please stay on the line and an operator will assist you."

Bruce slammed down the phone. Angry at himself for letting so much time go by.

"Is everyone leaving me?" He murmured.

"What did you say Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce looked up to see Sandy's smiling face. She was faithfully holding his paper. There was no way of knowing just how long she had been standing there. She has gotten almost as good as Alfred about sneaking up on me, he thought. It used to be almost impossible to catch him off guard but lately... well lately, he needed more sleep and fewer things on his mind.

"Sandy, you caught me talking to myself." He looked a little embarrassed but she only smiled.

"Did you want this paper or was it meant just to give me a source of exercise?"

Bruce laughed. It was hard not to smile around Sandy. Once she had tried to talk him into dating her daughter Trisha. She was a sweet young woman with her mother's smile and sense of humor. Bruce had declined however. He said he wanted no part of a family that was happy all the time. To him that just wasn't natural.

"Give me the paper!"

Sandy lightly tossed it on his desk. Walking out, she asked, "Will there be anything else?" She left the room before he could answer. He again laughed, this time at the quality of his help.

Bruce opened the paper and the headline floored him. Explosion on First Street Kills One, Leaves One Injured. Bruce read the article slowly. Trying to absorb every piece of information that was offered. There was a natural gas explosion that originated in the building next door and subsequently blew up Colleen's Antique Gift Shop and two other buildings. Ned Waters was killed instantly and Barry Sanders was in the burn ward at Gotham General Hospital.

Bruce grabbed the paper and ran out of the office.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Wayne? What about the reports?" There was no answer. Bruce was out of the building and to his car before she even had time to turn around.

"What do I do about these reports?" Claira looked at Sandy for an answer.

"I would complete them and have them ready for the next time he comes in."

"He didn't get his phone messages either."

"Just save them. He will pick them up later."

"Sandy, why do you think he acts so strange?"

"Just because he can I guess. Come on lets get back to work."

The two stared at Bruce's empty office for a minute or two and then both smiled to each other.

"Must be nice you know it Sandy?"

"Yes, it must be."

The two laughed at their flighty boss and went back to their work.

"Alfred! Where is my suit? I have to go out!" Bruce had already searched the cave below and was now frantically searching Wayne Manor. It was imperative that he reached the explosion site before anymore time went by. Alfred however did not share his sense of urgency.

"They are being laundered sir. I dare say they need it fiercely."

"Damn it Alfred! I have to have it right now! Where is it?"

"It is in the washroom. Do you need directions?"

Bruce glared hatefully at Alfred then his expression softened. He deserved the sharp remarks from Alfred and Alfred deserved an apology.

"I'm sorry.." Bruce all but whispered. He had to slow down; he was about to lose control. He walked into the study and stretched out on the couch. Alfred followed him and sat in the chair next to him.

"Are you alright sir?"

"Yes, I'm just tired. Will you wake me when the suit is ready?"

"Of course sir. Are you sure you are all right? You seldom take an afternoon nap."

"Well Alfred, I have a sneaking hunch that I am going to need all the rest I can get. Please let me know as soon as it's ready."

"Has there been a break in the case sir? Perhaps some new information you would like to discuss?"

There was silence from the couch. Alfred wished getting information from Bruce wasn't so hard.

"Sir?"

When Bruce still did not reply, Alfred walked over to the couch. He smiled at what he saw and was glad that he fudged the truth somewhat.

"Sweet dreams Master Bruce."

Alfred left the study going straight to the laundry room. He laughed softly to himself as he took down a Bat Suit from where it was hanging. The suit had been laundered and it was in the washroom. He just hadn't mentioned that it had been ready for hours.

"What do you know? I outsmarted the famous Batman." With a grin he added, "Again". Satisfied with himself Alfred took the suit back to the Batcave.

"Alfred! Alfred, what time is it?"

"Oh sir, you have awakened. Would you like some dinner?"

"What time is it? I asked you to wake me!"

Bruce sounded every bit as annoyed and impatient as he felt. Alfred left the room returning with a warm covered dish and a small bottle of pure spring water slightly chilled. Bruce didn't bother to argue which was a rarity. His stomach felt as though it were on fire. His body was beginning to show signs of wear from the constant abuse it had been given. He ate dinner quietly. It was his quiet however that spoke the loudest to Alfred.

"Master Bruce please talk to me. Have you found out anything? What has you so upset? At your present pace you will burn out soon I'm afraid. I am after all a good listener."

"Yes my dear friend you are. I promise you I will talk to you as soon as I know something. Right now though I know next to nothing. I guess that's what's driving me crazy. Perate is good. He's got his tracks covered so well I need Tonto to pick up the trail. Unfortunately, Tonto is nowhere to be found and neither is the trail."

"Perhaps you are trying to hard."

"What are you trying to say? Do you think I have overlooked something? Well I haven't!"

Bruce's dishes went flying through the room stopped only by a nearby wall. Alfred made no move towards them and his mannerisms and voice did not change.

"You were more mature than that when you were merely a child. You are far too uptight. You would not know a clue, I am afraid, if it were right in front of you. May I suggest you trying acting instead of reacting? This case is far too personal for you. You must regain your self-control so that you may have clarity in your thinking. The case is solvable. You are the best after all.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I will put some thought in to what you said, right after I clean up these dishes."

"Nonsense, you have an explosion to investigate. I will take care of things here. Go now before the trail is cold."

Alfred was kneeling down picking up the broken dishes while Bruce watched amazed.

"How did you know about the explosion?"

"Master Bruce please, I dare say you never give me quite enough credit. You should go before the offer to clean up this mess expires."

"Okay, okay, don't threaten me!" With that Bruce hurried off to the Batcave.

The wind had picked up considerably since the early afternoon. Lightening flashed brilliantly across the midnight blue sky but little thunder was heard. Erratically shaped raindrops splattered on the windshield of the Batmobile as it accelerated to First Street. He arrived at his destination only twenty-three minutes after leaving the Batcave. Glancing at his watch he noted the time, 1:04 a.m. stepping out into the drizzling rain, Batman touched his voice activated remote control on his utility belt. In an even tone he stated "Trunk". The Batmobile's trunk obediently popped open revealing literally hundreds of various Bat gadgets of every size. The trunk however was neatly organized and brightly lit. He pulled from it an 11 by 14 size box labeled "Crime Scene". Opening the box to double-check its contents, he found a high-powered flashlight, several bags to hold evidence that might be discovered and various small bottles of chemicals for investigating fingerprints. Also a small tape recorder was included in the box so he could record any thoughts or feelings he had pertaining to the case. The tape recorder had often proven invaluable. Satisfied that everything was in place, he stated, "Trunk closed". Walking toward the building he shook his head at what little remained. He doubted seriously that he would be able to find anything that would prove useful but he had to try. Once again touching the remote control, he commanded "Shields". Bulletproof shields carpeted the Batmobile and Batman stepped into the remains of the building.

Rain continued to fall inside as well as out due to the roof collapsing during the explosion. Batman picked up several burnt slabs of wood examining them and then tossing them back to the ashes on the floor. He shifted his feet through the ruins for nearly two hours, searching for something that wasn't so charred that it was unrecognizable. Finally the tip of his boot struck something hard. Batman flashed the light but saw nothing. Taking his boot he kicked away debris revealing a fireproof box. Picking it up he judged it to be full. The box was locked but that did not concern the Batman in the least. Reaching into his glove he pulled out a pick cleverly hidden inside a glove pocket. The box opened instantly. The box subject matter seemed to be financial. Apparently Colleen Waters and her late son Ned owed a lot of money to one Benjamin Perate. Batman decided to take the box back to the Batmobile before continuing his investigation.

The rain had stopped but the lightning had intensified. Thunder clapped across the sky and the Batman jumped, thinking he had seen something in the shadows. He stood battle ready for several moments until lightning flashed again and he concluded that there wasn't anyone there. Bending down he picked up what he hoped to be his treasure box holding a wealth of information. Rising he felt a sharp pain in his throat as his oxygen supply was beginning to be cut off. Someone was behind him with a steel line cutting through his cowl, cutting through to the skin. The box left Batman's grasp as he reached backwards with his hands over his head trying desperately to reach his attacker, trying desperately to stop the pain. Blood was squirting from his throat now as his fingers reached backwards to his attacker. All Batman's strength conglomerated into his hands as he held the man close, as close to himself as he could. Surprise was the other's advantage and Batman was paying the cost. An angry knee reached the small of Batman's back repeatedly until unable to stand the pain any longer he fell into the ashes. The steel line was reinforced now, leaving him light headed and gasping for air. He again tried to overpower his attacker but he found he was far too weak from the loss of blood. The line strengthened even more. His life would be over in a matter of seconds. Batman suddenly felt nauseous as he tried to loosen the line by clawing at his own throat. Lightning danced again and he saw a second man, at least a second pair of boots. The second man lunged for the first and the two began to fight. Batman removed the line from his throat fighting for air. He could tell from the sound that the two men were still fighting but darkness took him before he knew the outcome.

Raindrops were hitting him hard on his face. He breathed a sigh of relief; at least he was still alive. The drops however were hitting all of his face and running down into his hair. His mask was off. He jumped at this realization opening his eyes abruptly.

"Easy, you're going to be alright."

Batman tried hard to focus but found that he couldn't do a very accurate job. He must have hit his head when he fell, he thought to himself. Then suddenly he realized that he knew the voice he had just heard. He didn't have to focus; He didn't have to see at all. The voice belonged to someone he could always trust.

"Dick?"

Batman tried hard to speak but his voice was barely a whisper. He reached out his arms; he couldn't see him so he needed to feel him near.

Batman felt himself being gently pulled upward. Nightwing's arms were around him now, holding him carefully but firmly. His neck was throbbing and when he reached to touch it he found Nightwing's hand was already there. Nightwing had torn off part of Batman’s cape and was holding it to his neck, applying steady pressure. Batman tried hard to stay conscience but he could feel himself slipping in and out. Nightwing was saying something to him but he didn't understand it. He couldn't concentrate; he couldn't seem to focus. He noticed he couldn't feel the throbbing in his throat any longer. He began to panic. It felt as though he wasn't getting any air.

"Dick!" Batman's hands reached for him and he found Nightwing's shoulders. He held on to him desperately.

"Hold on Bruce, you're going to be okay, just hold on". Nightwing repeated the words over and over but the search to comfort him was in vain. Batman could no longer hear him.

"It's alright Batman, you're at the clinic. The doctor says you are very lucky to be alive!"

Batman opened his eyes and closed them again repeatedly. Still he could see nothing. He could make out general shapes but he couldn't focus in on the details.

"Did you hear me Batman?"

"Jim, where am I?"

"You are at the Wayne Memorial Clinic on Park Row. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wake up. It's been four days."

"Four days? How, how did I get here?" Batman's voice was weak and low, not much above a whisper. The discomfort from using his voice showed heavily in his face.

"Nightwing brought you. He's a good kid. He stayed here until the doctor said you would be all right. He seemed really upset.

"Is he still here?"

"No, he left earlier this morning."

A long silence fell over Batman. Nightwing had already gone. He knew less than when he started.

"Batman, are you listening to me?"

"I'm sorry Jim, I can't seem to concentrate."

"That's understandable. You have a pretty bad head injury."

"Jim, did anyone take off my mask." The thought brought a chill to Batman. If his identity had been compromised it could have devastating results for not only himself but Nightwing as well.

"One doctor did, her name was Leslie Thompkins. I remember her name so well because Nightwing insisted on using only her. He said he could trust her. She's the only one who saw you. Normally I wouldn't have allowed it but you were hurt pretty bad."

"It's alright Jim. Nightwing was right, she can be trusted."

"Glad I met with your approval Batman."

"Leslie." Batman tried to sit up but Jim gently pushed him back down.

"Easy old friend, don't try to get up."

"I'm alright."

"Are you? That's not what this report says that's in my hands." Dr. Thompkins looked closely at her patient. She had been the Doctor who responded to the Wayne murders so long ago. She had arrived to find a small, frightened boy who hysterically held on to his parent's bodies, not allowing the medical personnel to take them away. Several had tried to comfort him, to reason with him that he had to give his parents up. Leslie Thompkins had been the only one who was able to get through to that small boy. It had been so long ago but to her it seemed like yesterday. When she looked into the eyes of the Batman she saw that same confused frightened boy. She wanted to hold him in her arms like she did back then. She had to remind herself that it was Batman and not Bruce Wayne that lay before her. She mustn't do anything to give away his identity.

"I don't care what your report says. I'm fine."

"Where's the fire capped crusader?" She quipped.

"I have to find Nightwing. I have to go." Batman didn't wait for anyone's approval. He sat up on the side of the bed putting his feet to the floor. With a groan he stood up and the next thing he knew Jim had a hold on one of his arms and Leslie had the other. Together they were pulling him up from the floor.

"Batman, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Commissioner Jim Gordon scolded his old friend.

"What happened?"

"You blacked out Batman. Now, tell me once more how alright you are." The sarcasm in Dr. Thompkins voice was overwhelming. Batman reluctantly lay back in his hospital bed. He knew he had no chance of winning the argument now.

"It's a wise man who knows when he's outnumbered Batman. Now be still and let me examine you."

"I tell you I'm fine!"

"Alright, let me give you a quick exam and if you pass you are free to leave, fair enough?"

The Batman growled, he knew a trap when he seen one. "Okay, but make it fast. I have to find Nightwing and I can't do that from this bed!"

"Do you need me to leave Doctor?"

"No Commissioner. This will be brief exam. Mr. Batman is in a hurry."

Jim Gordon sat down beside the hospital bed. He was surprised that Dr. Thompkins was talking about possibly releasing Batman. He wasn't a doctor but you didn't need to be to see that the Batman was in bad shape.

"Are you ready to begin Mr. Batman?"

"Yes, and stop calling me that!"

"Calling you what?"

"Mr. Batman." Batman growled again. He didn't have time for this.

"Patient shows signs of irritation at minor details."

Batman rolled his eyes at her as she scribbled something on his chart. He wished he could see what it was. He wished he could see her face so he would know just how serious this all was.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two."

"And now?"

"Three"

"And now?"

"One"

Doctor Thompkins smiled to herself as she noted Batman's unchanged facial expressions and the even tone of his words. This was definitely a man she didn't want to play poker with, not that she played anyway.

"Now, would you please describe my earrings?”

"What do you want to know, the color?" Batman's voice was getting more irritated by the minute.

"Just describe whatever you can please."

"They are gold hearts."

Doctor Thompkins couldn't help but laugh. He had a good memory that's for sure. That was the kind of earrings she wore when they had lunch together last week. She again wrote down something on his chart and then gave him the verdict.

"You got all the numbers of fingers wrong and I am not wearing any earrings. You failed miserably. You are not leaving that bed!"

Batman mumbled something under his breath but neither of them caught what he said. He shut his eyes and said a silent prayer that Nightwing would be all right. A nurse interrupted him.

"Take these Batman, they will ease the pain and help you sleep."

"Thank you." He whispered and within a few moments he did find that sleep.

The morning sunlight showed through the clinic's window vividly. Birds were singing outside and the clinic's staff was making their early rounds. The Batman was one of the firsts on their list. He was due something for the pain and he sat up in his bed and anxiously awaited it.

"Good morning Batman."

"Well, you got the morning part right." Batman's softened voice sounded more like a growl.

"Did we wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" The young nurse asked him with a smile. He didn't return it. The pain in his head though it was throbbing, was nothing compared to the pain in his throat. His lower back was sore and aching but none of it compared the hurt inside. He missed being close to his son. Why did he always have to be alone? He hated hospitals and although this was technically a clinic he did little to alleviate his uneasiness.

"Well this should make your disposition a little nicer." The nurse handed Batman two pills and turned away. The Batman couldn't see her clearly but he could tell that she was leaving.

"Wait, please. Could you tell me if Nightwing has come by last night or this morning?" Batman heard himself speaking. He heard the loneliness in his voice. He just hoped she didn't catch on to it.

"Night who?" The nurse seemed more than a little confused.

"Never mind." His voice a definite growl now. The nurse dismissed it and continued her work. The birds singing happily were too much cheerfulness too early. The Batman grabbed a cup that sat on his tray and threw it at the window. Water went everywhere, not that the Batman noticed or even cared. "Shut up!" He yelled and then he turned back over and tried to get some sleep.

Long minutes of tossing and turning provided little rest for Batman. He was just about to give up and ring for a nurse to bring him something to make him sleep when he heard a door open. He lay still unsure of who was entering. His limited vision had him at a disadvantage.

"Bruce?" A gentle hand rested on Batman's shoulder. Batman made no effort to appear awake.

"Bruce, can you hear me?" Nightwing studied Batman's features. Batman had been through so much in his young life. He doubted a man twice Batman's age could have gone through as much as he. He wondered why a man like Bruce Wayne who had everything, looks, money, and social standing would punish himself so. He knew he would never understand why Bruce did what he did, no more than he understood the choices that he himself had made.

"Dr. Thompkins says you'll be all right with a couple of days rest. She also said you were real upset and tried to leave so that you could find me. I'm sorry Bruce. I never meant to put you through so much."

Nightwing looked down on the motionless figure of the Batman. Everything had gone so crazy. He wasn't supposed to get hurt. With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, Nightwing unloaded his burden on the seemingly unconscious Batman. He needed to tell him how he felt but he knew he could never do that if Batman were awake. They would just end up arguing. What would be the point?

"Bruce, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Damn it! Why couldn't you just stay out of this? I'm a big boy now. I don't need you running to my rescue every time something comes up. You spent all those years training my body and my mind and it's as if you still don't realize how good I am. I'm a man now. Thanks to your training I'm one of the best at what I do. I set this whole thing up to keep you away. I just knew I had made you mad enough to stay out of this. Don't you get it? I was trying to protect you. I had to make you think that I worshipped Perate to the point of taking in his poisons. I didn't of course but I had to make you think I had gone bad. That way you wouldn't want anything to do with me. I had to gain his trust and lose yours. Why didn't you stay out of it? I tried so hard to keep you safe. Now look at you. I almost lost you. Why do you have to care about me Bruce? I don't deserve it..."

With his last words Nightwing put his hands to his face. Fear, anger and frustration had taken its toll and the youthful crime fighter who tried so hard to be a man was now weeping like a small child. Batman's heart went out to him and he could no longer pretend to be unconscious. He felt a twitch of guilt for deceiving him but he knew it was for the best. For the first time in a long time he had actually kept his mouth shut and listened to what was being said. He listened not only to the words but also the feelings behind them. Perhaps he thought to himself that was what was needed all along. Batman opened his eyes trying to focus on the figure sitting on the edge of his hospital bed. He reached for him silently and Nightwing realizing this took both of Batman's hands and held them firmly.

"You're awake. How do you feel?" Nightwing appeared nervous. Just how much of his confession had his mentor heard?

"I'm all right." Batman's husky whisper filled the air. He closed his eyes. He couldn't see well anyway and trying to focus was giving him a headache.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better. I better go. Dr. Thompkins said not to stay to long."

Batman felt his hands being gently dropped. He reached out again but Nightwing did not take them.

"Son?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. I promised myself if I ever saw you again I would tell you that."

"I..I love you too."

"And son, you are worth it."

There was a long silence from Nightwing and just as Batman started to speak again Nightwing moved toward him and hugged him. Batman wrapped his strong arms around Nightwing and held him for several minutes. He had his son back. He rested his head on Nightwing's shoulder and as his mind relaxed so did his body. He drifted off to sleep feeling more peace than he had known in several months.

Batman's peaceable sleep lasted several hours during which Dr. Thompkins and several different nurses were in and out. Their voices, their poking and prodding, all did little in the way of waking the awesome body of the Dark Knight Detective. He had been on the brink of complete exhaustion for too long. Now with an I.V. in his arm and tubes in his nose his body demanded rest from him. He could do little to stop it and found himself forced to obey.

"Leslie, he is going to be okay isn't he? He is laying so still, it's scary." Nightwing sat beside the hospital bed on a stool with no back, gripping the seat of it tightly. The stool he had Dr. Thompkins borrow from the lab because he hated the clinics regular hard backed chairs. He sat fidgeting, turning the stool back and forth for something to do. Leslie looked at him and smiled. The two might fight a lot she thought, but they were always there for each other when it was needed. She thought of a way to put the young man's mind at ease and decided it would be best just to be honest with him.

"Dick, Bruce is in bad shape. You know that. However it certainly isn't the worse he has ever been. I remember once you got your head bashed in and Batman took three bullets bringing down the guy that did it to you. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah, he was hurt really bad. He made it though. He always makes it. He's tough." There was deep admiration in Nightwing's voice. So much so that Dr. Thompkins found it alarming.

"Well one of these days he's not going to make it through. He is tough Dick but he is just a man. One day this crazy life he's living is going to catch up with him and you're going to bring me something that I'm not going to be able to fix. Right now though, I would say that he is out of danger. A few days rest and the swelling will go down. Then his eyesight should return to normal. Luckily he was wearing his cowl that absorbed a lot. Otherwise his throat would have been cut clean and there would have been nothing anyone could do. As it is if you had gotten him here just five minutes later he would have most likely bleed to death. It was that close Dick." She looked at her sleeping patient.

“At least now he has to rest. He couldn't get up if he wanted to."

Anxious to change the subject from Batman's near miss of death, Nightwing decided he needed to get out for a while. "Do you think he'll sleep much longer? I really could use a shower."

"Yes Nightwing you could." Leslie laughed teasingly. "I doubt very seriously if he'll be awake before tomorrow. Why don't you go home and get some sleep. You look like you need it."

"Gee, thanks Les. If you're going to be insulting then I guess I'll just go. If he wakes up before I get back tell him I'll be back soon okay? I don't want him to try to get up to find me again." Nightwing rose from his stool and squeezed Batman's hand. "Be back in a bit Bruce." He whispered.

Batman regained consciousness early the next morning and to his dismay found that no one was around to notice. He searched for the button to ring for the nurse but to add to his aggravation, he couldn't find it. The hour was early and the sky was still dark. Good he thought, at least he didn't have to content with those damn cheerful birds. He laid awake staring into the darkness for over an hour.

The abrupt opening of the door cleared all other thoughts from Batman's mind. Maybe Dick was back.

"Nightwing, is that you?" No answer was given to the Batman's question.

"Who's there!" Batman's keen ears could hear the footsteps as they almost silently approached him. He searched frantically for the button to ring the nurse but he did not find it in time. Something was being sprayed in Batman's face. He tried hard not to inhale it but as the fine mist touched the exposed skin on his face he felt himself losing conscience.

"Helen! Helen! Call Dr. Thompkins immediately! Batman's gone!" The frightened nurse ran quickly up and down the halls hoping to catch a glimpse of the Dark Knight. As she circled back to the nurse's station her shoulders slumped and she released a heavy sigh. A second nurse, Helen Morris ran to meet her.

"Carol, did you find him?" The urgency in her young voice told the whole story.

"No. He's gone! I found the police officer that was the guard. He was in the bathroom adjacent to Batman's room. His throat has been cut."

Helen Morris gasped and began to turn pale. The thought of a killer right there in the same building with them was chilling. "Carol, do you think they killed Batman?" Helen's voice was as shaken as she was.

"I don't know but I wouldn't doubt it. He wasn't in much condition to fight back. Come on, let's go see if security has found anything."

"Good morning Alfred." Dick Grayson's voice was cheerful and alert. He had always been a morning person although his career called for a lot of late nights.

"Master Dick, how good to see you. I did not hear you come in. How is Master Bruce? I hate not being able to be at his side."

"He's doing really well, so don't worry about him. Leslie says he'll be able to come home in a few days. He's doing a lot better than anyone expected."

"He always does, thankfully. What about his eyesight and voice? I have been so worried. The clinic will not give me anything on his condition except that he is stable."

"Leslie says everything will be back to normal within a week or two. The cowl of his suit went a long way in protecting him. I might have to look into getting me one of those. She did say though he will probably need plastic surgery on his neck since Bruce Wayne likes to keep up appearances."

"Oh my word!"

Dick looked at Alfred's worried face and realized that Alfred was living proof that family did not have to be blood related.

"Well he'll be back here tomorrow or the next day and you can take care of him. I warn you though, the nurses say he's cranky!" Dick's good-natured laugh relaxed Alfred somewhat.

"Have the two of you patched up your differences?"

"No Alfred we haven't had much time to talk. He did tell me he loved me though. It felt good to hear it. I really needed to hear it. He hasn't said that in a long, long time."

"Master Dick, I disagree. Master Bruce is constantly telling you he loves you, he just doesn't necessarily put it in words."

"You think your smart don't ya Alfred?" Dick teased as he softly punched him in the shoulder.

"Yes, Master Dick, I do." Alfred smiled and playfully punched him back.

"Well, I guess I better get back to the clinic. It's almost seven. I want to get back before Bruce wakes up. You know how he hates hospitals."

"What about breakfast?"

"No thanks, I'm running late. It's going to take a few minutes to get to the clinic with the morning traffic."

"May I suggest sir that if you value your life you will call me from the clinic with a progress report. Perhaps if Master Bruce is feeling better I could talk to him." Dick laughed at the good-hearted threat and after promising repeatedly that he would call, he made his exit to the Batcave.

Nightwing made it through the morning traffic in record time. As he approached the clinic he was surprised to see what seemed like half of the Gotham Police Department in and around the clinic. Nightwing pulled his cycle up beside Commissioner Gordon.

"Commissioner, what's going on?"

Nightwing had interrupted a conversation between the Commissioner and his Lt. But he didn't think twice about his apparent ruddiness. If this had anything to do with Batman...

"Commissioner, answer me!"

"Alright Nightwing, let's go over here." Nightwing was lead by the arm into an office near the lobby. Once inside Gordon closed the door and motioned for Nightwing to sit down. Nightwing didn't waste the time.

"Is it Batman?"

A deep sigh came from Batman's long time friend and ally. "Yes."

"Tell me!" Nightwing made no attempt to mask the emotion in his voice.

"Nightwing, Batman has been kidnapped. The security guard assigned to his room had his throat cut. It happened between the hours of four thirty to six thirty this morning. No one heard or saw anything. We have questioned everyone. There isn't even one solid lead."

There was a frightened silence from Nightwing. If Perate's men did this then the danger was severe. When Nightwing did speak it was slow and deliberate. He was fighting within himself to remain in control.

"I want to see his room. Maybe I'll catch something that wouldn't mean anything to your guys."

"Alright, but I don't think you'll find anything. Come on, I'll go with you."

The two reached the room, which was swarming with police officers, the press and clinic staff. Walking inside the first site to catch Nightwing's eye was the blood from the police officer splattered on the bathroom wall. He cringed remembering finding Batman with his throat nearly cut all the blood. Nightwing suddenly felt very sick.

"Nightwing, are you okay? You don't have to do this."

"Yes... I do."

Gordon cleared the room and closed the door. If there was a clue there he doubted if anyone could find it now with all the traffic that had been in and out of the room. Nightwing went over to the stool where he had sat just a few short hours before. Blame clouded his mind. If only he hadn't left him. He had promised Batman that he would stay. It was a mistake to leave, one that might cost Nightwing the loss of his only family.

Nightwing and Gordon spent the next forty-five minutes going over the room. Just as Gordon had predicted there was no clue to be found. Nightwing filled Gordon in on Perate's activities and that it had been one of Perate's men that had attacked Batman.

"Nightwing, you know that as soon as I know something I'll tell you. I would appreciate it if you would do the same. I care about him too."

"I will Commissioner, I'll be contacting you."

"Try not to worry Nightwing, he's tough you know."

"Yes he is, but he is only human."

They walked without talking to the parking lot. As they reached it Gordon inquired as to Nightwing's next move.

"Where are you going from here? Do you have any leads?"

"Well I know it's Perate, I just have to figure out where he took him. The Batcomputer might come up with a list of possibilities. I also have to tell Batman's family. I'll call you soon."

Nightwing thought of calling Alfred instead of going straight back to the mansion. He went so far as to dial the number of the estate, hanging up when he heard Alfred's voice. This was hard, and it was going to have to be done in person.

"Master Dick, the signal is out in the sky this evening. Under the circumstances I thought I should notify you."

Dick broke off the stare that he had affixed on Bruce's picture attaching it instead to Alfred's worried face. Alfred had taken the news of Batman's kidnapping hard, furthering Dick's guilt. If only he hadn't left him alone he thought sadly.

"Thank you Alfred. Maybe it will be good news for a change. I'll call you when I know something."

The tension once again was evident on Alfred's face as he silently collected Nightwing's outfit and brought it to him. As Nightwing turned to leave he offered some words of encouragement even though he himself wasn't so positive.

"I'll get him back Alfred. Perate wants something from him or he would have killed him outright instead of kidnapping him. Maybe whatever he wants will buy me time to find Batman."

"Be careful." Were the only words to come from Alfred.

As Nightwing entered the Police Station by way of Commissioner Gordon's office window he couldn't help notice the tired worried look of Jim Gordon. Gordon looked up from the tons of paperwork on his desk and gave Nightwing almost an apologetic stare.

"Commissioner, I got here as fast as I could. What have you got?"

"You had better sit down Nightwing."

Nightwing's stomach was in knots. Gordon only asked him to sit down when things were at there worst.

"Just give me what you've got." Nightwing's tone was so bold, as though he was prepared for anything. He wished that were the case.

"This envelope arrived just before I lit the signal. It has been dusted for fingerprints. Of course, they came up with zilch. There are six 8x10 photos inside. Like I said, you better sit down."

The knots in Nightwing's stomach were twisting. This time he accepted the chair willingly. He hesitated as he reached for the vanilla envelope. He opened it slowly as though something might jump out at him.

"Oh..My..God."

"Well Nightwing, at least these mean he's still alive."

Nightwing stared back at him anger welling up inside. "How can you be so casual about this!"

"That's not what I meant Nightwing and you know it. Perate is torturing him so that means he wants him for some reason. At least Batman is still alive."

"Why is Perate doing this? If he hates him bad enough to do this why not just go ahead and kill him? Why is he sending out pictures? It just doesn't make sense."

"No it doesn't. You want some coffee?"

Nightwing shook his head. He was nervous enough without adding caffeine to his problems. Jim Gordon had a different view on it however. He needed something strong just to get him through this. For the next few minutes neither man spoke. Nightwing studied the pictures looking for something that would tip him off to Batman's location. He found it hard however to look at them. There was so much pain in Batman's eyes. His dark armor was brightened by the crimson of his blood. Blood was literally covering him. There was no way to tell from the pictures exactly where the Batman's wounds lied. Nor, could Nightwing tell what had caused them. Frustration threatened to overcome him, fear that it might already be too late to save the person who meant the most to him.

"I'll need to take these Commissioner." Nightwing rose from his chair. He looked to the Commissioner for opposition but didn't receive any. Turning he stopped at the window.

"Thanks Jim." Nightwing said quietly.

"Keep in touch Nightwing." Gordon called to him but Nightwing was already gone.

"Alfred I need all the information on Perate that we have accumulated. All aliases, locations on drug houses and all other businesses he may own or co-own that he could be using for fronts. Also I need a main address for him. Oh and Alfred, put a rush on it."

"Yes sir."

The fact that Alfred hadn't asked how the meeting with Gordon went said a lot. The fact that Nightwing did not volunteer any information said even more.

"I'll be at the cave in a few. Nightwing out."

Tension was high as the two men worked feverishly for answers. After Nightwing had shown Alfred the pictures nearly an hour ago, not a word had been said by either of them. Alfred was busy on the computer charting maps of Perate's businesses throughout the city. Nightwing was arming the Batmobile heavily as well as filling the trunk with several explosive devices. They had to move quickly, timing was everything.

"The maps are complete Master Dick." Alfred quickly handed them to his busy partner. "Will you be leaving immediately sir?"

"Just as soon as I am done here. Alfred would you please put a medical bag in the Batmobile? Also, make sure it stocked full. We have no way of knowing what injuries he has endured."

"I already took that liberty sir. Master Dick, I must insist that you are extra careful. I simply could not bear to lose you both."

Dick didn't turn around. He didn't want to see the look on his trusted friend's face.

"Well I guess it's time for the fireworks. Perate's got my attention now let's see if I can get his. Alfred we'll have half hour check ins, starting on the next half-hour. Be sure to call the newspaper reporters at exactly midnight. I'll talk to you soon."

Nightwing wasted no time as the Batmobile zoomed toward downtown Gotham City. Nightwing's plan was daring to say the least and he knew that Batman would not approve. That hardly mattered now though. All that mattered to Nightwing now was getting Batman back alive, whatever the cost. Indeed Nightwing knew well the price for tonight's activities could include a jail sentence. He just hoped it wouldn't be for murder. Nightwing's anger was so intense that he doubted he could hold it in check if caught up with Perate face to face.

Nightwing pulled up to a nightclub called Cord's. It was a small boxed shaped building with no windows and no back door. There was only one way in, only one way out. Taking a deep breath Nightwing called in.

"Alfred, I'm here. Call the reporters at exactly midnight and the police fifteen minutes after that. Things should be hopping around here by then."

"Watch your back sir." Came the only reply.

"Okay, time to play hard ball." Nightwing whispered as he approached the door.

Once inside Nightwing discovered the air to be thick and heavy, not apparently, unlike his opponent's heads. A quick reading of the room told him there were five on the barstools, seven playing pool, one on the phone and the bartender. That of course was leaving out the bathrooms and the stock room, which were not visible.

"Excuse me, has anyone got a light?"

Turning toward the voice no one noticed Nightwing at all. In fact the only thing they noticed was that a blue glove was holding a conglomeration of dynamite sticks.

"Hey man, what the?" The question was muted as Nightwing pulled out a lighter from inside his glove.

"Never mind guys. I found one." Nightwing walked nonchalantly to the bar and picked a comfy stool. Smiling he looked at the bartender. "You probably should clear the building. This thing is going to make a big mess. Hey and give me a soda while you're back there."

The bartender's big hands were shaking visibly. "What is it you want pal?"

"Well for starters I'm NOT your pal. Now give me a soda and get these people out of here!"

Nightwing grinned as the dozen or so men scrambled out of the bar. Slowly sipping his soda he thought of his options. It was so appealing to just blow Perate's businesses to smithereens. One by one, all that Perate had accomplished could easily go up in smoke. He toyed with that idea as he ran a gloved finger around the rim of his empty glass. From the corner of his eye he saw the bartender trying to sneak out with the patrons.

"Tsk. Tsk." Nightwing's eyes danced with mischief as he blocked the bartender's retreat. "Sit down. Let's play a game." Nightwing taunted.

The bartender's eyes darted to behind the bar and back at Nightwing. It was obvious he was trying to decide if he could get to either a weapon or a silent alarm. Most likely both mused Nightwing. Without giving the man time to form a workable plan, Nightwing shoved him into a chair.

"The game is called an eye for an eye. This is how we play. I show you a picture and then you answer my questions. If I don't like your answers then..."

Nightwing let his voice trail off for dramatic effect. "Well then, I get to take similar pictures of you as the star and I send them to your boss Perate while the cops send you to the morgue."

The bartender's eyes darted around the room once more. With no help in sight he decided to buy some time until his boss's body guards could get there to take care of this problem.

"You ain't scaring me. Everybody knows the Batman don't got the stones to kill nobody." The smugness in his voice was short lived.

"I'm not the Batman you idiot." Nightwing grabbed the barkeep and shoved him hard against the wall. "Do I look like I have pointy ears and a cape?" Nightwing wasn't toying any longer. His anger was seeping through, searing his words. When he began to speak again his voice was deeper with a dangerous edge to it. Realizing this, the bartender gulped hard.

"The Bat, well, the Bat's a better man than me. I don't share his protectiveness for all mankind. You're scum and if Batman's dead then your boss is too... count on it! Now you don't want to be part of the problem do you?"

"No, no sir!" Came the anxious reply. The bartender was now more scared of him than of Perate. Nightwing had to admit he was scaring himself too. Did he mean what he had said? He shivered inwardly at the thought. He was afraid to answer his own questions so he forged on to getting others answered. Carefully opening the envelope, Nightwing showed the bartender the pictures of Batman, careful not to look at them himself. He had thrown up the last time he looked at them; he really didn't want to go through that again.

"Where...IS.... HE?" Nightwing spitted out harshly. He was fighting to keep his emotions in check but realized he was unsuccessful as he threw the bartender into the jukebox. He then proceeded to ram his head into it again and again. With blood now dripping rapidly from the man's head, Nightwing pulled out his grappling gun and placed it directly in the center of his forehead. The message was clear and the bartender shivered when he told him the plan.

"You are going to get me inside Perate's operation..."

"Mr. Perate, it's happened again sir." A tall muscular bodyguard with a blond ponytail down his back handed Benjamin Perate the morning edition of Gotham Gazette.

"I don't believe this! Someone want to tell me how this is happening? How is this guy getting past the mounds of security I've set up? Seven drug fronts blown up in two days!" Perate slammed the paper hard onto the computer desk where he had been all morning trying to asses the financial damage Nightwing's tirades were having on him. Perate's top people were there with him, all clearly as surprised as he was.

"Boss, word on the street says its Nightwing. The few that have run up against him, that can still talk, say he's looking for the Bat and if the Bat's dead he won't stop till you are too."

Perate reached in the desk drawer and pulled out his 9mm. "In that case, let's go see if the Bat is dead." With that simple statement the room emptied quickly.

At the end of the hall was the room Batman had been imprisoned in. It was no bigger than a walk in closet. The special vented door allowed air inside but offered no lighting. Batman had been beaten and stabbed before Perate had injected him with his special blend of bad medicine and left him there to die a slow agonizing death. That had been two days ago. The Batman had been too weak and disoriented to fight back.

Perate's ponytail bodyguard knelt down checking the neck of the Batman for a pulse. His deep brooding blue eyes staring intently at the six-foot tall bat that lay on his side.

"He's dead boss. You want I should get rid of him for you?"

"Hell yes! Take his sorry carcass out the back way and the rest of you get out there and find Nightwing. I want him brought to me alive. I'm going to enjoy watching him die at my hands!" Perate's voice boomed like thunder and his soldiers hurried off without hesitation.

Perate's bodyguard reached inside the closet sized room and ever so carefully pulled out the dark form inside. Batman moaned at the movement as was quickly hushed.

"Ssh, I've got you Bruce." The blonde bodyguard said softly. "I need you to play dead for me okay? So I can get you out of here."

"Who's playing?" Came the whispered reply.

Bruce woke slowly, fighting it all the way. To his surprise he wasn't in pain. Maybe he thought he was past pain, maybe he was... He forced his eyes to open and seeing the familiarity of his own bedroom he relaxed.

"Dick?"

When he didn't receive an answer he became alarmed. He remembered Nightwing pulling him from Perate's lair right under Perate's nose. The kid had guts that was for sure. Had he been injured in their escape? Batman had blacked out again after being pulled from the closet coffin he was entombed in.

"DICK!"

Bruce called as loud as he was able. This time the bedroom door opened and he was greeted by a tall muscular young man but instead of his usual midnight black hair his soft curls were blonde. Bruce shook his head as if to clear his eyesight. When he opened his eyes again, Dick's hair was still blonde.

"Ooookay. Is this to get even with me because I wouldn't let you get an earring?" Bruce teased. He noticed his words were slurred a little and vaguely wondered why.

Dick didn't return the lightness of mood. He was worried. This was twice that Bruce had almost died because of him. The guilt was eating him alive. When Dick didn't answer Bruce he tried to sit up to find out why.

"Easy." Dick said softly. There was no missing the sadness in his voice. Bruce reached out and took his hand and held it steeple style. It was then that he noticed that Dick was shaking.

"I'm okay son." Bruce whispered. "Everything's okay now."

Tugging on Dick's hand, he pulled Dick to him so that they were both sitting side by side on the bed. Bruce then did something uncharacteristic. He pulled Dick to him and hugged him tight. Dick was so moved by this that he could hardly keep the tears from flowing.

"Bruce, I thought... I'd lost..you." Dick's voice was so full of emotion that Bruce couldn't bring himself to end the embrace.

"I'm proud of you. Do you know that?" Dick felt himself shaking a little harder. He had waited so long for Bruce to say something exactly like that. Why curse him, Dick thought, did he wait until there was nothing to be proud of.

"You're proud that I deceived you and nearly got you killed... twice!" Dick spoke louder than he had meant to. Anger strongly evident as he did so. Bruce pulled back from him just enough so he could see his face. When he spoke again he was full of parental pride and it showed.

"Proud of you for bringing down the biggest drug lord on the East Coast. I've been after him for over two years. I couldn't even find out his real name. You found him and brought him down. Not to mention going so deeply under cover for four months that 'even' I couldn't find you. Most of all, I'm proud of you for not killing Perate when you had the chance. I know after he grabbed me and took those pictures it was hard not to take the law in your own hands."

Bruce looked proudly at his young son who had to soon become a man. A top-notch crime fighter in his own right. He suddenly realized that everything that Dick had done to him on this case he had been doing to Dick for years. It took Dick turning the tables on him for him to realize. The over protectiveness, the pushing him away. Keeping him in the dark when a case was deemed too dangerous. This time the proverbial shoe was on the other foot. Yes, he thought, he is his father's son.

"Well.." Dick started slowly. How to tell him he wondered. "I... I did take the law in my own hands. Now Bruce try not to get mad when I tell you this, you don't need to get upset." Dick was fidgeting and Bruce smiled.

"Oh you mean the seven buildings you blew up or the countless heads you busted?"

"HOW did you know that?"

I over heard Perate ranting about it. I couldn't help but laugh. It's all that got me through that. That and the fact the I 'had' to see you again."

It was Bruce's turn for his voice to turn emotional and Dick wondered how he could have ever thought that Bruce didn't care about him. Never again he promised himself, was he going to let Bruce fool him with that "Icy" act of his.

Things were suddenly too uncomfortable for Bruce. He never had been one to openly display his emotions. He began to realize that his head was aching. Slowly it came to him that he had an I.V. in his arm. Looking over at it curiously he saw that it was morphine.

"Hmm. Think I could get another hit of that?"

"Careful now, you don't want me to ship you off to a drug rehab do you?" Dick's good humor was back. Bruce was going to be okay and he had forgiven him, to Dick that's all that mattered.

Bruce sat back and allowed himself a rare smile. "Touché".

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