August 16, 1515h "There's the pitch, and - HE CREAMED IT! Heading for right center and the Whalers are on the board! That's a 3-run dinger for Gutierrez and the" - RING! - Filb turned down the TV with a grumble and reached for the phone. Who would call him during the game? "Yeah," he said into the receiver, his eyes still tracking Gutierrez's home run trot and the replay of his mammoth homer. "Filb, what's going on?" a voice barked. "Amy?" he asked, his attention suddenly focused. "Your partner, Filb. What's going on?" Her tone was making Filb uneasy. "Grayson? He's going to meet Spud's teacher today. There a problem?" There was a moment's pause. "You don't know?" Amy sounded faintly despairing. Filb turned off the TV. "Amy, what's going on?" "Graham," she began, and Filb felt his insides tighten. Graham meant bad news. "Dick's - step-mother? - just called the station. I figured you already knew-" "Knew what, Amy? What's wrong?" "Dick was in an accident of some sort. Bad. She didn't give details, just that he needs an indefinite leave of absence -" Filb closed his eyes. An indefinite leave of absence. He knew Dick Grayson. The kid could bounce back from anything in a week. "Did she say-?" "He's in critical condition. She didn't say where, but I can guess Bruce Wayne has him somewhere private. Filb-" "Was there an accident report or anything?" "Nothing's come through yet. Probably handled by County Sheriff - you know how they are with paperwork." "You want me to -" "Yeah. Yeah, Filb. Find out. And find out what *really* happened, okay?" Filb hesitated. He knew what Amy was asking. "I'll try," he acquiesced, already deciding he wouldn't push too hard past whatever explanation Babs gave him. He suspected there were some answers he did not want. "Filb?" Amy's voice sounded tiny in a way that Filb had only heard once or twice when they were partners and never since. "Yeah, Amy?" "Do you think -" "He's a fighter, Amy. In a month, you'll be lecturing him about jumping into firefights to save kids again." "I hope so, Filb." "Your rookie will be fine. I'll even call the house now and report back, okay?" "But if-" "Okay?" "Okay. Thanks, Filb." "Bye, Amy." Filb hung up his phone and stared at it for a long moment. Dread had curled icily in his stomach. Babs always called for Dick, since the only times Dick ever called in were times when he was too sick or hurt to pick up the phone. "Guess what my klutzy husband did this time?" she'd say, and the desk sergeant would always chuckle and announce the latest Grayson folly. Amy and Filb would chuckle and shoot each other the *look*. It was ritual by now. But if Dinah had called, if the Gotham branch of the family was involved in the affairs of their fiercely independent Bludhaven juniors... He glanced at the cross hanging on the wall, hung there by Marina the day they moved into this house. Filb had always been a passive Christian at best - more agnostic than anything - but Marina had always found comfort in her faith, especially near the end. Filb had never had the heart to take the cross from the wall, and now his eyes found it automatically as he whispered a rare prayer: "Please, let them come out of this okay..." He took a deep breath and hit 2 on his speed dial. The phone rang twice, then a precise British voice answered. "Grayson residence." Filb felt himself involuntarily straighten up. "Umm, this is Graham Filbert calling - Dick's partner?" "Yes, Officer Filbert. Is there something I can do for you today?" Filb hesitated for just an instant. He'd expected Spud to answer, although if Dick were truly so seriously injured... "I was hoping to talk to Barb or Dick?" "I'm afraid, Officer, that that -" There was a click, and then Babs' voice on the line. "I've got it, Alfred." "Are you certain, Miss Barbara? I can -" "I've *got* it, Alfred." Classic Barbara Grayson irritation. Filb would have been heartened if he could not so clearly hear the tears in her voice. There was another click on the line - Alfred hanging up. "Barb?" Filb began. "Amy just called. Is-?" "It's bad, Filb," she said quietly. "He - we almost -" Her voice cracked, and she stopped. "What happened?" he asked gently, trying to keep his own tone calm. Babs gave a short almost-laugh. "Stupid bike. He tangled with a damned *glass* truck. Can you believe that? Fucking plate glass-" She broke off as Filb recoiled from the unexpected profanity. Things were definitely bad. He waited for her to continue. Her voice was steadier after the pause. "He's lucky there was an off-duty EMT in the car behind. Some animal darted into the road and the traffic swerved - he got forced into the other lane. They said he kinda jumped," yeah, that was Grayson, Filb reflected, "went over the top of the truck and probably would have been fine except for the glass." Now her voice grew softer, and Filb barely heard, "He almost bled to death." "Barb." It was an inquiry as much as a statement. Babs understood. "We're at a private Wayne Enterprises hospital now - I had the home line forwarded so I could monitor the calls. They tell us the next few hours are critical." "How are you and the boy doing?" "I'll live." A flat statement. "Spud -" A deep breath. "Spud managed to slip past the EMTs when they brought him here, saw how bad-" Filb listened to her struggle for control, his own heart desperately racing. "You think if I talk to him-?" "He won't talk to anyone right now, Filb, and I don't want to push him." Again a beat before she added softly, "He won't let go of Dick's hand." The silence between them lengthened as Filb digested this. "Barb - if you need anything -" "I know, Filb. It's just good to hear your voice. The family's all here, but -" "I understand. You'll let me know -?" He couldn't finish the sentence. Another brief silence. "Can you check in? I don't want other people calling all the time, but could you-?" "I'll do that. When should I-?" "They're still trying to stabilize him. There's still some little bleeders and organ damage-" "Barb, you sure you don't want-?" "No, not yet. Just - liaise with the department for me, okay? Keep Amy in the loop? And call back around 9. I'll tell Alfred to expect your call." "Okay, Barb. And Barb? He'll be okay. He's tough. And stubborn." "I hope you're right, Filb. I really hope you're right." "Hang in there. And call me if there's anything I can do." "Thanks, Filb. I will. Good bye." "Bye." He hung up and sat very still for a second. Then he fiercely punched the arm of the couch. "You better live, Grayson," he muttered. "You better." He fought the lump in his throat. Save the tears in case you need them later, Filb, he cautioned himself. Never say die. He had been sitting staring into the middle distance for several minutes when the phone rang. He swallowed hard before he answered. "Yeah," he said gruffly. "Haven County just faxed over the accident report." Amy sounded like she was ready to spit bullets. "Criminal negligence, Filb! They didn't even cite the driver - hauling glass without properly -" "Amy." She was instantly silent, and Filb knew she was fearing the worst. "Filb?" "He's hanging in there - but it's not good." He could hear her sigh of relief before she drew in another angry breath. "It was a slipshod accident report, Filb. *Our* officers would have done better." "Our officers would probably be trying to cover something up." There was a thoughtful pause. "You think it was really -" "An accident, Amy. A very terrible accident." He could hear her not wanting to believe him. He let her think about it for a moment. Then he added, "Amy, I think I need a few days off." Suddenly she was all business again, the ever capable Captain Rohrbach. She'd be a bear to work with for the next few days, but Filb knew she wouldn't push the issue of the accident report. "I understand, Filb. Is there a place to send flowers or get well cards?" "Not yet, Amy. Let folks know we'll share that information as soon as we get it. Right now though-" "We'll wait for word. You'll call me the instant you know something?" "Of course." "Right. I'm posting the memo now. Take care, Filb." "You, too, Amy." "Bye." The line clicked dead, and Filb hung up the phone for the third time in 20 minutes. He stared blankly at the TV remote,. He'd probably only missed half an inning, but suddenly the game didn't seem so important.