August 18, 1600h

	Batman rubbed his eyes tiredly beneath his cowl and returned his attention 
to the Dick's files on Blockbuster.  He could have them ready by sundown and 
carefully planted on the desk of Captain Addad if he could stay focused.  His 
muscles were starting to stiffen from sitting so long after last night's battle, 
but he made himself ignore them.  The assassin might be gone, but he had been 
only a contract killer.  
Blockbuster had to go down.
	"Master Bruce?"
	Batman looked up to see Alfred standing at the foot of the stairs.  Then 
he looked down again to the files.
	"Master Bruce, I've brought Miss Dinah home for some much needed rest.  
She is sleeping in the master bedroom now."
	Batman felt a hint of guilt.  "Is she okay?"
	"As well as any of us under the circumstances, sir.  I thought perhaps you 
could benefit from joining her."
	Batman looked up at Alfred, taking in his weary face.  "Dick?" he asked, 
ignoring Alfred's suggestion.
	"Responsive but not conscious.  Still on the respirator."  
	No change.  
	Blockbuster was going down.  
	Batman refocused himself on the files in front of him, pulling up more 
notes on Dick's laptop.
	He heard rather than saw Alfred wait for a long moment.  Then:  "If you'll 
not be needing me, sir, I think I shall turn in."
	He didn't answer, and after a moment, Alfred headed back up the stairs.
	Dick had almost every puzzle piece in place, an airtight case that even 
the BPD couldn't fumble.  Batman felt a rush of pride as he meticulously 
assembled the files for Addad, obscuring any clues that Nightwing - or Dick 
Grayson - had anything to do with them.  It was solid detective work, enough for 
probable cause for a warrant, enough that there was no way Blockbuster could 
disassemble everything before he got caught.  Addad and his officers would 
follow Dick's leads and Bludhaven would be less one crime boss.
	The material on Dick's laptop was the key - the data he had not yet 
integrated into his mainframe files made the case solid.   Batman had recognized 
that instantly when he had opened the laptop two nights ago and scanned through 
its files.  He doubted anyone had even noticed that he had quietly removed the 
computer from the warehouse lair. 
	*Can you blame them?* a little voice nagged him.  He shook it off and 
began opening the last of Dick's files, the material he had put together in the 
last two weeks.  He was definitely going to make his self-imposed sundown 
deadline.  
	Blockbuster was going down.
	He clicked the mouse, and suddenly Dick's voice was coming out of the 
little speakers beside the flat screen of the laptop.  Batman froze at the 
hushed sound of his son's voice. "...-fted base of operations in South America.  
Guys tonight were hired guns from Oronto..."	
	He had been whispering when he made this file - recording from a rooftop 
or warehouse?  Sending data home in case he did not make it back?  Batman had 
been dimly aware that there was a growing price on Nightwing's head, but he had 
not let himself worry.  They all had prices on their head, after all.  
	"... suspect Blockie's trying to move some accounts to Kayman.  Seems to 
also be flying in some higher powered muscle ..."
	Dick's tone was musing and vaguely frustrated, as if he were listing 
information to try to figure out the links.  Then suddenly Barbara's voice 
appeared in the recording, explaining the whispering.
	"Honey, you still up?"
	A pause - perhaps for a kiss?
	"Just wanted to work on this a little longer, Babs.  I feel so close -"
	"You need sleep, sweetheart.  You'll see the connection in the morning."
	Batman felt like he should shut off the file, feeling like a voyeur, but 
he sat riveted, listening.
	A heavy sigh, then a tone laced with irritation.  "I can't be this close 
and let him slip through my fingers again.  Eight years, Babs.  He sent me here 
*eight years* ago.  And I'm *still* on this case."
	"Dick..."
	"I'll sleep soon.  I promise."
	"Like you promised last night, and the night before.  I'm worried about 
you-"
	"I'm FINE.  I'm just - I'm sorry, Babs.  I -"
	"Shh.  You'll wake Spud."
	Silence for a moment.  Long enough for Batman to think about how much had 
been going on in the past month - the wedding, the adoption, Dick's regular work 
with the BPD and his uncomplaining coverage of Gotham, plus the growing heat for 
Nightwing in his home city...
	"I just want Blockbuster out of here for good.  Done."
	"I know.  Have you thought about -?"
	"Asking Bruce?" There was an almost bitter sound in Dick's voice.  "Hey, 
Batman, I can't handle my own case, how about -"
	"Dick!  You know better than -"
	"Babs."
	Another silence. Did Dick really see the Blockbuster case as an extension 
of the mystery of those 21 dead men, Batman wondered?
	"I just don't like to see you this run down.  We've got a family to think 
about, and -"
	"I know.  Just a few more nights.  It'll be over soon."
	"He'd help, you know."
	A snort.  "Bruce?  He's busy.  And he's got a family to think about now, 
too."
	Batman slammed on the keyboard, stopping the playback.  He stared blankly 
at the screen, although somewhere his mind registered that the file he had 
opened was dated early a.m., August 14.  He scanned through his memory.  When 
had he last spoken to Dick?  Monday, maybe?  The 13th.  A curt exchange, he 
remembered.  Nightwing had asked if Batman could track down a lead in Gotham, 
and Batman, mindful of Dinah waiting at home, had put him off.  
	Dick had gotten the information from someone - the Gotham link was in a 
file dated August 15.  It was a vital clue.  If he had gotten that a day 
earlier...?
	Batman settled his shoulders, his mouth firming into an even grimmer line.  
	Blockbuster was going down.