Disclaimer: Batman, Black Canary, Nightwing and Oracle all belong to DC,
and I make no money with my writing!  Please don't sue, I have to pay for
a wedding this year!

Author's Note:  This story is a sequel to Syl's "Friends 2: Someone to
Watch Over Me" Batman/Black Canary story.  She's given me permission to
write in her world, and I only hope I can do it justice.

***

Friends 3: La Vida Loca
by Terri Hayes (gabi@gies.com)

***

    Black Canary pulled back against a wall, waiting for the gunfire
to cease around the corner of the building.  Peeking out, she counted five
shooters on this side of the barricade, along with a small form who was
bound and gagged with tape. "Twenty five feet, Oracle.  And I can't get a
head count on the other group."

    "Twelve, Canary.  Their firing position is relatively sheltered.  
They are under orders to recover the hostage at all costs."

    "Yeah, I'm not surprised.  It's not every day that someone kidnaps
the son of the most notorious alleged terrorist in the Irish Republican
Army, whisking him out of the United States and into Ireland before anyone
can blink. Tell me again why we took this mission?"  

    This was not exactly a 'routine' assignment for Black Canary. She
was more used to being sent in to steal (or recover) sensitive military
information or save the world, not rescue kidnapped kids.  She'd flown
into Dublin via London with the expectation of having to sneak the boy out
of an armed camp.  Instead, by the time she'd arrived, chaos reigned.  It
appeared that two groups of terrorists were vying for possession of the
kid in the middle of the Dublin streets.  She could hear sirens in the
distance, the Dublin police were on their way to the scene of the
shootout.

    Barbara sighed.  "Shaun's a United States citizen, BC. He's also
7 years old and his mother happens to be an old friend of mine."  She'd
been trying to keep it business by calling Shaun 'the kid,' but her use of
his name indicated her personal interest in the situation.

    Black Canary blinked.  "Are you serious?"

    "As a heart attack.  Heads up, Canary!"

    Oracle's warning came a heartbeat before something heavy slammed
into the wall where BC's head would have been.  Kicking out, she connected
solidly with a kneecap.  She followed up with a palm to the bottom of the
man's jaw, knocking him to the ground, out cold.

    "Do I dare ask how your friend got mixed up in the IRA?"  The
shooting around the corner stopped.  BC hazarded a look to see what was
happening.  Her mission objective was to get the kid, not worry about the
people shooting at one another.  From her vantage point, she could see
that the group of twelve had sent out flanking parties.  Two men were
approaching the barricade from either side, while the kid and his five
captors crouched behind it.

    "Too long to get into just now... suffice to say she went to
college in Dublin for a year.  I think you can figure it out from there.  
The State Department has been dragging its feet on the kidnapping idea
because the parents have a legal custody agreement that says the kid can
go to be with his father at any time."

    "Typical bureaucracy.  Meanwhile, the kid's sitting in Ireland in
the hands of his father's enemies."  Taking stock of the situation in
front of her, BC mumbled to herself. "What I wouldn't give just now for
some of those fancy Bat-toys.  Swing in there, grab the kid, swing out
again.  Piece of cake."

    Oracle's voice came through the earpiece again.  "Repeat, BC?  I
didn't quite catch that."

    "Never mind.  Oracle, one of the guys is moving the kid."  Black
Canary blinked.  "Oh-ho... nice move, guys."

    Out of sight of the flanking teams from the larger group, one of
the men behind the barricade was pulling up a manhole cover and untaping
the kid.  The boy looked scared to death as the tape came off, but
something the giant blond man said to him must have reassured him, because
he nodded emphatically and then scrambled down the manhole.  The blond man
then put the cover back in place and resumed his firing position.

    "Oracle, one of the guys just untaped the kid and stuck him into a
manhole.  The opening is hidden from sight of the other twelve guys.  Can
you find me another sewer entrance?  These guys just made my job a *lot*
easier."

    "On it..."  Black Canary retained her position until Oracle's
voice came back through her earpieces.  "Straight down the street you're
on, in the opposite direction of the shooting, about 50 feet."

    "Got it."

    Black Canary took off in a crouch, moving away from the site of
the confrontation.  The gunfire was beginning again.  Reaching the
manhole, just where Oracle said it would be, BC commented sarcastically,
"It's pretty sad that I always get the crap jobs, Oracle."

    Barbara's laughter followed BC into the manhole.  BC slogged
through the underground system with a flashlight back toward the muted
sound of gunfire.  Softly, she called, "Shaun?  Shaun Parker?"

    A soft sound caught Black Canary's attention, and she looked
upward.  Crouched just underneath the manhole cover was a little boy with
blonde-brown hair.  BC smiled just a little.  "Hi, Shaun... my name is
Dinah.  Your mommy sent me to bring you home."

    Wrapped around the top rungs of the ladder like he was, Shaun had
to twist his entire body to peer downward suspiciously.  "That's what
those guys said.  But my daddy said it wasn't true."

    BC nodded, wondering how the kid knew what his father said.  "She
gave me the password, Shaun.  Do you remember the password?"

    Shaun paused and then nodded slowly.  "What's the password?"

    Black Canary watched him carefully.  "She said the password was
'spinach on toast.'"

    Shaun weighed BC's words, and then started unwinding his small
body from around the ladder rungs.  "Pretty gross, huh?"

    BC laughed.  "You bet, kiddo.  C'mon, let's get you back to your
mom."

    As the boy nimbly clambered down the ladder, BC reached up to help
him the rest of the way down.  The little boy threw himself into her arms
and held on tightly.  Though he'd tried to sound brave, his entire body
was shaking like a leaf in a storm.  Dinah hugged him tightly.  "Hang in
there, kiddo, we'll be home in no time."

    Oracle's voice sounded in BC's ear.  "Go back to where you climbed
into the sewer system, and take the righthand tunnel.  Go to the next
lefthand tunnel, and about 100 feet in, there will be a ladder.  It will
bring you out three blocks from where you are currently."

    The sounds of gunfire continued, and BC could hear sirens pulling
up nearby.  She took the small boy and jogged with him through the
tunnels.

* * * * *

    "You know, Boy Wonder, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were
still 10 years old."  Barbara's expression contained both amusement and
exasperation as she looked upon Dick Grayson's battered face.  "Dr. Leslie
said 'in bed for several weeks,' not 'glued to the BatComputer.'  How do
you expect those ribs to heal, if you're not resting?"

    "Aw, quit naggin', Babs."  Dick was slouched in a chair in front
of the huge monitors of the BatComputer, azure eyes twinkling as he
listened to Barbara's affectionate annoyance.  "Alfred's hovering enough
for two butlers; I don't need you doing it, too."

    Barbara simply shook her head.  "Fine.  But don't blame me if
Bruce bodily carries you back up the stairs."

    "No chance."

    Dick jumped a little, hunching his shoulders, at the sound of
Batman's voice behind him.  His face took on a guilty expression as he
looked over his shoulder.  "Uh... hi, Bruce."

    Barbara giggled softly, watching the exchange.  Seeing that look
on Dick's face brought back all kinds of memories.  How many times had
she seen Dick look like that?  It must be hundreds of times.  And it never
failed to amuse her, seeing Dick duck his head in that almost-shy way when
he knew he'd been caught doing something naughty.

    "Next time you need to be carried, we're getting a crane," Bruce
continued with a deadpan expression.  "I don't know what you're eating,
but you weigh a ton."

    Dick was silent for a moment, trying to determine whether to take
offense at that comment.  His trademark boyish grin lit up his face,
though, and he returned the teasing quip.  "Yeah, sure.  I think you're
just looking for an excuse to carry Black Canary instead of me, that's
all."

    Although Bruce's expression remained aloof, a faint hint of pink
touched his chiseled features.  He'd left himself wide open to that one.

    Barbara laughed outright.  "Oh, *do* tell, Dick?  Dinah won't say
anything at all now, but you should have heard her the other night.
She was offering to show Batman her scars."

    Dick blinked, looking back at Barbara, and then toward his mentor
in amusement.  "Oh, *reeeeeeeaaaalllly*?  And he said?"

    Bruce replied sternly, "You're still not too big to spank."  He
looked very uncomfortable, and changed the subject immediately.  "Oracle,
do you have any leads on the group that kidnapped Shaun Parker?"

    Barbara turned her attention to the business at hand.  "What we've
got so far is that there's a turf war going on between two factions of the
IRA.  Patrick Malone, Shaun's father, is apparently the leader of the
larger faction.  Michael Fitzhugh wants to take over. He thinks Malone is
being too reactionary, and he wants to be more proactive in their hits.
Black Canary has Shaun in her possession, and is currently sitting aboard
the Concorde, heading into New York.  They should land within two hours."

    Bruce nodded.  "Keep me up to date.  I've been looking through the
Interpol files on Malone and Fitzhugh.  There's not much there.  A lot of
suspicion, no proof."

    Barbara shrugged, "Sure, Bruce."  She hid her confusion about why
he'd be keeping up with it, but agreed readily.  "Now, see if you can tell
this stubborn brat to get some rest.  His ribs are aching."

    Dick scowled.  He hated it when she read him so well.  Stiffly, he
moved to stand up and leave.  "Fine.  I'm going."  Lines of pain bracketed
his mouth as he stood.

    "I'll be here when you get up, if you can get past Alfred, chum."
Taking in his son's stiff movements, Bruce refrained from offering to
help.  Though he shuddered in remembrance of Dick's battered shape from
three weeks before, Bruce knew Dick would want to get around on his own.

    "I'll touch base later, guys.  Got some stuff to do."  Barbara
waved through the screen, and her image vanished.

* * * * * 

    Dinah Lance helped a solemn Shaun Parker to unbuckle his seatbelt
as the Concorde came to a stop at the gate.  "Your mom'll be just outside
waiting for you, Shaun.  Are you excited?"

    The little boy nodded some.  He'd been inordinately quiet for the
past half hour, and Dinah could only attribute it to the trauma he'd
suffered.  The poor boy had clung to her like a burr through the sewers
and all the way to the plane, rarely letting her out of his sight.  His
innocent chatter had slowed to almost nothing, the closer they got to New
York.  Finally, as they were about ready to leave the plane, Shaun asked
Dinah, "D'you think those men hurt Uncle Brian?"

    Dinah halted her movements to gather their things from the
overhead bin, and sat in the seat next to him.  "Uncle Brian?"

    Shaun nodded.  "Uncle Brian's the one who put me in the hole and
covered me up so the bad guys couldn't get me again."

    Dinah tensed slightly.  "I see..."  She didn't, but she wasn't in
a place where she could ask Oracle about her information, either.  "I'm
sure your Uncle is fine, Shaun.  Let's go see your mom, okay?"  She smiled
at the youngster.  "She's been worried about you."

    Shaun smiled shyly.  "Okay."

    As Dinah gathered up their meager belongings and passports, which
Shaun's mother had sent to Oracle for the flight back to the States, Dinah
walked the little boy up the gangway and through Customs to his mother.

    Diana Parker knelt to sweep her son to her in a tight hug, looking
at Dinah with tears in her eyes as she cradled his precious weight to her.
"Thank you," she whispered softly.  "It's not enough, but it's all I
have."

    Dinah grinned, touching Shaun's back lightly.  "It was our
pleasure, Miss Parker.  Take good care of him, he's a trooper.  Bye,
Shaun."  Without raising his head from where it was buried in his mother's
shoulder, Shaun waved toward Dinah.

* * * * *

    After a hot shower and a cup of coffee, Dinah sat down at her
kitchen table and opened the comlink on her laptop.  "Oracle, you there?"

    "No, Dinah... I'm having hot, passionate sex with someone, and I
don't have time to talk."  Oracle's tone was ascerbic, but Dinah only
grinned.

    "Oh, really?  I'll call back later."

    Oracle made a sound that might be described as a snort.  "Don't
bother.  Yes, I'm here.  Checking on something.  How'd it go?"

    "About the same as always.  Shaun's safely in his mother's arms.
I wanted to verify something with you, though."  Dinah took a sip of her
coffee.  "The kid said that his 'Uncle Brian' was the one who put him in
the manhole.  Now, *I* thought we were going in there to steal the kid
back from Fitzhugh.  Was I mistaken?"

    "No, you weren't.  But I think that you arrived a bit late.  
Brian Malone, Patrick Malone, and 4 other men infiltrated Fitzhugh's base
and took Shaun back.  Patrick was captured, and Brian and the others got
Shaun out.  I've notified some of the Malone relatives that Shaun is
safely back in the States.  They in turn notified me that Brian was
injured pretty badly in that shootout, and two of the others killed,
before the Dublin police arrived on the scene.  You're going back to
Ireland."

    Dinah blinked.  "I am?  What for?"

    "To break Patrick Malone back out of Fitzhugh's hands."

    "What on earth FOR?" Dinah demanded.

***

    "You want what?"  Barbara looked puzzled as she stared at Bruce
through the screen.

    Bruce calmly replied.  "Additional information on Malone and
Fitzhugh."

    "Uhm.... all right.  I'm sending it now."  Her green eyes gazed at
him thoughtfully.  "Let me know if you want anything else.  Interpol has
very little on Patrick Malone, only suspicions that he's the tactician in
the group.  Fitzhugh's file is as long as your arm, though."

    Bruce nodded.  "I know, Oracle.  I want the additional information
you've got besides the Interpol reports."

    "No problem.  Mind if I ask why, though?"

    His expression remaining impassive, Bruce skirted around the
answer.  "Something is just nudging at me about the whole situation. Maybe
because retrieving the boy was too easy.  I want to take a closer look at
a couple of things."

    Barbara smiled slightly, a twinkle in her eyes.  "Okay, Bruce.
They're incoming to the Cave now."

    "Thanks.  BatCave out."

* * * * *

    He studied the reports quietly.  Something about them wasn't
adding up, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  All of the
documents appeared to be in order.  Malone was suspected of being one of
the highest-ranking faction heads, but Interpol attributed only three
specific attacks to him.  Their notes didn't give any more information
than Oracle had already divulged, though Oracle's notes in the files were
more extensive. Her digging had turned up quite a few names of family
members and indicated that several of them were also under suspicion of
terrorist activities by the Irish government.

    Fitzhugh, on the other hand, was a well-known terrorist to
Interpol; they simply had not been able to capture him.  A master of
disguises, Michael Fitzhugh was notorious for his ability to slip in and
out of targeted buildings without being spotted until it was too late, if
at all. Notes made by Oracle gave more family history on the man, but
nothing useful.  Most of his immediate family was dead.

    As Bruce sat back in his chair, he steepled his fingertips
together and considered Oracle's report on the rescue.  BC had gotten off
lucky this time.  The job was a lot easier than the KOBRA mission several
weeks before.  With the word KOBRA, though, his thoughts inevitably went
to that last, shattering kiss and his unexpected anguish when he'd thought
she was dead.

* * * * *

    Two hours, and still no signal from Black Canary.

    "BatWing breaking off search, Oracle," Batman said impersonally.
"Returning to base.  ETA twelve hours."

    Nightwing needed immediate medical attention. Batman already given
Black Canary more time than he could afford. He glanced at Nightwing. The
younger hero's injuries were too severe to postpone treatment any longer.

    His eyes searched the endless gray waters of the Black Sea. Black
Canary understood. She'd been the one to insist that he go.

    Nausea churned in his gut, though it wasn't visible in his
expression. How could he have left her in there?  He'd known it was a
suicide mission.  So had she.  And she'd chosen to remain behind and
complete the mission. To give his son life.  He couldn't stay here and
take chances with Dick.

    Just as he reached to cut communications, though, they'd received
a transponder signal.  Batman's heart stopped beating for what seemed like
eternity, and then when it started again, it was three times its normal
rate.  "Triangulate!" he ordered.

* * * * *

    As soon as they'd gotten a position on BC, the BatWing picked her
up. Battered, bruised ... but alive.  And conscious.  And beautiful.  He
didn't think he'd ever been so relieved in his life as when he'd seen that
smile as she'd asked, "Going my way?"

    Bruce shook himself out of his reverie, a silly half-smile still
playing about his lips.  What on earth was wrong with him?  It was *not*
like him to act like a moron.  Back to work, he ordered himself.

* * * * *

    "Why on *earth* am I breaking Patrick Malone out of Fitzhugh's
hands?  Why can't Malone's people handle it themselves?"  Dinah's voice
held incredulity at her next mission.

    Oracle's tone was cool.  "Because that's the assignment.  If you'd
prefer not to take it, I'll find someone else."

    Dinah was baffled.  "Wait just a second.  I didn't say I wouldn't
do it.  I just want to know why me?"  She paused.  "Something more is
going on here, isn't there?"

    Oracle remained silent for a moment, then spoke.  "Someone in
Malone's organization is an informant for Fitzhugh.  I intercepted a
message that contained your name and flight information, and Diana's
address.  I've already notified the Feds, and Diana and Shaun are in
protective custody.  But they're gunning for you, too.  They aren't going
to expect you to go back and get Malone out of Fitzhugh's 'custody,'
though."  She smiled faintly.  "They don't know you well enough to predict
your actions, and they don't realize that I've been intercepting their
messages for two days.  Interpol can't get close enough to Fitzhugh to
neutralize him, but Malone can.  Your assignment is to go back in, get
Malone out and help put Fitzhugh in position for Interpol to grab."

    Flabbergasted, Dinah listened to the outlined plans.  "I.... uh...
okay."  She threw her hands up and agreed.  "Give me enough time to pack
some clean stuff, and I'm ready to go.  Although I still don't get why
we're helping a terrorist to catch another terrorist."

    "Because Interpol has a deal with Malone, set up last year.  
Malone is an informant, in exchange for immunity from charges
relating to one of the hits last year."  

    Oracle seemed more close-mouthed with details on this one than
usual to Black Canary, but that explanation made a bit more sense.  Deals
like that were made all the time.  "I need an hour.  Can I still make my
flight?"

    "You're on the 6:30pm flight out of Gotham to pick up the redeye
into London on the Concorde and then a flight to Dublin from there."

    Dinah groused under her breath, but nodded.  "All right.  I'll be
on it."  She glanced at the time.  At least Oracle'd given her time to
pack and a couple hours to sleep.  It was just before noon.  Jet lag
wouldn't even have time to catch up to her before she'd be back on a
plane.

* * * * *

    Dick jerked out of his nap with a painful gasp, sweating. Jeezus,
that was vivid!  He'd dreamed of the blast that almost killed Black
Canary.  He hadn't even been conscious for it, but bits and pieces of
images from his moments of lucidity danced through his dreams.  Most of
the memories were just snapshots in his memory.  Snippets of moments. He
vaguely remembered wishing that he was still a little kid when Batman had
taken a moment's rest.  Some stood out in great detail, however.  Like
seeing Batman and Black Canary liplocked and molded to one another from
lip to hip.  God, what a sight *that* was!

    Dick pushed himself out of bed slowly, and made his way downstairs
with one arm wrapped around his taped and slowly healing ribs. In his
dream, he'd remembered something else.  Half-conscious in the Batwing,
he'd argued with Bruce about leaving BC after the detonation.  It hadn't
occured to him until his dream let him see it, but the tone Bruce had used
and the expression on his face as they'd hit the two minute mark finally
registered on Dick.  Anguish.  That's what he'd seen in his guardian's
stony gaze on the horizon.

    Evading Alfred's watchful eyes, Dick shuffled his way back down to
the BatCave.  "Bruce?"

    The cave was empty.  Bruce must be catching some sleep, Dick
reasoned.  He lowered himself into a chair in front of the monitor, and
studied the information on the screen.  His brows drew together in
puzzlement.  Reaching out, Dick cautiously hit several keys on the
keyboard.

    Barbara's face appeared almost immediately, and she smiled
slightly.  "Hey there, Boy Wonder.  Thought you were napping."

    "I was.  I'm awake now, though.  Babs..."  Dick paused, still
looking puzzled.  "Is Bruce acting a little strange?"

    Barbara stopped typing on her end, and settled back in her chair.
"You noticed too, huh?  He requested a bunch of additional information on
the Parker/Malone situation.  It seemed a bit out of character.  Why?
What's going on?"

    Dick leaned back in his own chair, settling as comfortably as his
painful ribs would allow and propping his feet up on the console.  Talking
to Barbara like this was familiar. Late-night conversations often took
place in these same poses.  "Well, my dreams have been particularly vivid
the past couple of weeks.  When I woke up a little while ago, it was
from a dream of being in the Batwing, just before the KOBRA complex
blew.  Remember?"

    Barbara nodded, uncertain where he was headed.

    "Babs... Bruce was scared.  Not just worried about a fellow
fighter.  He was *scared*.  And it occurs to me that I've never really
seen Bruce *blush*.  Do you think he might be having some serious feelings
for BC?"  The question was asked hesitantly, but once it was said out
loud, Dick seemed less unsure.

    Barbara raised both of her eyebrows and didn't respond for a long
moment.  "You know, I've been wondering the same thing.  The tension
between them is so thick, you can cut it with a knife."  She grinned.
"Personally, I couldn't think of two people better suited.  I mean, the
sparks are all there."

    Dick nodded, a grin playing about his lips.  "Yeah, no kidding.
They'll either be this close to killing each other," he held his fingers
three millimeters apart, "or to kissing each other insensible."

    Conveniently ignoring that they had the same kind of chemistry
between themselves at times, Dick and Barbara shared a smile.  Barbara
spoke softly.  "Tell you what... you keep an eye on Bruce, okay?  Canary's
going back to Ireland on a flight in about 4 hours, and I don't want him
to worry.  I'll keep an eye on her."

    Dick chuckled.  "All right.  Meanwhile, if you two chat, see if
you can figure out what's going through her head about the whole thing,
and I'll see if I can find out on this end."

***

    "So Dinah... mind if I ask you a question?"  Oracle's quiet voice
came through Dinah's earpiece about an hour into the flight.

    "Sure.  Ask away, boss lady."  Dinah kept her voice low.  Although
she had no seat mate, people might still overhear her talking to herself.

    Barbara couldn't help the smile.  "Are you still mad at Batman and
me for what happened a couple weeks ago?"

    Dinah groaned, remembering how humiliated she'd felt when she
realized that Batman had overheard at least some of her rambling to
Oracle.  "That comment was meant for your ears alone, you know.  I still
can't believe you didn't tell me he was there."

    Barbara sighed. "He wasn't.  Not until right before you offered to
show him your scars.  Besides... I tried!  You didn't listen."  She
chuckled.  "You should have seen his expression when he replied."

    "Really?"  Dinah was interested.  "How *did* he look?"

    Barbara laughed softly.  "Oh, let's just say I don't often see
Batman with that speculative gleam in his eye.  Whatever's going on with
you two, I can see sparks even from here.  That's some serious fireworks."

    Dinah made a small 'pfft' sound.  "Yeah, right.  Fireworks.  We
strike sparks off one another because I don't like his high-handed
tactics, and he doesn't like the way I do my job.  It just exploded into
something a bit more primal when we were in the pressure cooker."

    "Come on, Dinah, give it up.  Batman is cooler under pressure than
anyone I've ever met in my life."  Oracle's voice contained the smile that
also graced her face.  "Just admit it, something's there."

    Dinah was quiet for a long time.  Finally, she reponded to the
teasing.  Her tone was more serious than Barbara expected.  "It doesn't
matter if anything's there or not, Oracle.  It can't go anywhere, you
know?  Batman doesn't trust anyone, really.  Intense situations can send
emotions into a tailspin, and that's what happened to us.  Sure, I'm
attracted to him.  But why?  Because there's an element of danger to it,
because we shared an intense moment, and because of chemistry."  Dinah
grinned at that point and her next comment was pure, cheeky Dinah.  "I
wonder if he'll take me up on it.  Ought to be amusing to see."

    Barbara couldn't help but laugh softly.  "Yeah, no kidding."  She
got the feeling Dinah was hiding stronger feelings than she was willing to
admit to, but she left it alone.

    Dinah dozed some on the flight to London, and by the time she
emerged from the Concorde into the London Heathrow airport, she felt
rested enough to at least skim the information that Oracle had sent along.
Sitting at the gate, waiting for her connecting flight to Dublin, she
perused the file while keeping a cautious eye on passers-by.

    "An' might I ask what a pretty lady such as yerself is doin',
sittin' here all alone in a dingy airport at this hour o' the mornin'?"

    The owner of the Irish-accented voice was a redheaded man, a
little over six feet in height, with a lanky build and bright blue eyes.
Dinah studied him a long moment, and then smiled as she casually shut the
folder.  Her voice was mildly amused as she responded.  "Probably the same
thing any lady in the airport at 7 in the morning is doing.  Waiting on a
flight."

    "Ah, and here I thought ye might be waitin' fer me."  He smiled at
Dinah.  "Michael Connell," he said as he held out his hand to shake hers.

    "Dinah Lance."  Dinah reached out to shake his hand while Oracle
chimed in over her earpiece.

    "Dinah, I've narrowed the places where Malone could be hidden to a
four block area in a suburban neighborhood just to the north of Dublin.
When you get there, you have reservations in a hotel near where I think he
may be being held.  You're going to be met somewhere en route by an agent 
for Interpol."

    "It's very nice to meet you, Michael," Dinah continued.  "I guess
it's true, what they say about Irish charm.  Unfortunately, I'm not
waiting for anyone."  She couldn't respond to Oracle while the man was
sitting in front of her.

    "Well, now.... 'tis a shame, then, isn't it?  Since we'll be
workin' t'gether."  Michael's smile didn't fade at all.  As a matter of
fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

    Dinah kept her composure easily, sliding her hand from his grasp.

    "Wow.  I didn't expect him to meet you in the Heathrow airport, I
figured he'd wait until Dublin.  Ah, well... that's Michael for you.
Dinah, Michael Connell is your contact."  Oracle sounded a bit amused.

    "I see."  Dinah's tone was a bit frosty.  "It would be nice if I'd
*known* that I was meeting someone before they sat down next to me."

    Michael Connell tilted his head, looking thoughtfully at her.  A
knowing grin tilted the corners of his mouth.  

    Oracle said sheepishly, "You were sleeping when I got confirmation
that Michael would be the one to join you.  I wanted to be able to
identify anyone who approached you.  Sorry."

    Dinah sighed.  "I'm very pleased to meet you, Michael.  Our friend
didn't inform me that I'd have company."

    "So I gather, lass.  No problem.  I'm used t' being told at th'
last moment, but it gets no less annoying."

    Just then, the call came to board the flight for Dublin.  Dinah
and Michael gathered their small amount of baggage, and entered the craft.
The flight from London to Dublin was uneventful, and by its end, the two
agents had a good feel for one another's personality.  Dinah liked the
easygoing Irishman, and he was certainly handsome enough.  Too bad he
didn't attract her the way some other people did.  She thought fleetingly
of Batman, and a gentle smile quirked her lips.  Meeting Michael in this
almost-normal fashion brought home the bittersweet reminder that
regardless of the attraction, she'd likely never have the chance to know
Batman in this kind of setting.  He could walk up to her on the street and
she'd never have a clue who he was.

* * * * *

    Dick spent the day being pampered and hovered over by Alfred
without seeing Bruce at all.  When Bruce finally made his appearance in
the kitchen, dinner was already going on the table.

    "How are your ribs, Dick?"

    Dick glanced up, and then grinned at Bruce.  "Annoying.  They keep
me from moving around just enough to keep me restless."

    "Indeed, Master Dick.  Restless would be an understatement."
Alfred served dinner to his two charges, who made it a point to eat in the
kitchen with Alfred unless something formal was going on or one of them
had a date.

    Dick wrinkled his nose at the comment.  "Did you sleep well,
Bruce?"  He eyed his guardian from beneath his eyelashes, taking a sip
from his glass of water.

    "Just fine."  Bruce smiled enigmatically, shuttering his gaze so
that his thoughts weren't readable in them.  He didn't understand why his
attraction to Dinah Lance was still gnawing at his insides, or why
thoughts of her kept interrupting him at inopportune moments.  And he
didn't need Dick teasing him any more than the young rascal already was.

    Dick made a noncommital sound as he began to eat his dinner, a
wonderfully prepared 'dinner' of Belgian waffles with strawberries and
real cream.  Although it was fattening, Alfred was humoring his youngest
charge's whims when it came to food, and breakfast-for-dinner had always
been one of Dick's favorites while he was growing up.

    Bruce glanced at the younger man, and began eating his waffles.  
Whatever was on Dick's mind, the boy was practically writhing in his seat,
waiting for the opportunity to bring it up.  If it wasn't for the fact
that he had a good idea what the topic was, Bruce would be laughing at
Dick's antics.  He finally relented and gave Dick the opening to speak,
even though he was *not* looking forward to being teased further.  
"Something on your mind?"

    "Well..... yeah."  Dick toyed with his waffle some, unsure of how
to broach the topic.  

    Alfred was putting away the last of the ingredients used to make
the waffles, and he was doing his best Proper British Butler impression.  
He was playing deaf to the topic at hand, though he could hear every word.

    Bruce just waited, chewing his waffle.

    Dick leaned back in his chair, meeting Bruce's gaze.  "Do you know
what you're doing, Bruce?"

    "In what way?"  Bruce remained unruffled by the question.

    "With Black Canary."

    "What do you mean?"  Bruce put down his fork carefully, watching
his 'son' with neutral eyes.

    Dick paused, formulating his words carefully.  What he said next
surprised Bruce with both its maturity and the depth of concern that it
conveyed.

    "It's hard enough to form a relationship in our lives, when we
have to take into consideration that we'd be missing from our beds until
all hours and putting the women we cared for in the position of either
thinking we were out having an affair because we can't tell them what
we're doing in the middle of the night, or worrying about us constantly
because they _know_ what we're doing in the middle of the night.  It's
that much more difficult, I think, when the woman has been or is still in
the same line of work.  Because then the worry is twofold.  Hers for us,
and then us for her."

    Alfred never gave any indication that he was listening.  He was
not surprised at the level of Master Dick's understanding.  The boy had
always been incredibly sensitive, especially when it came to emotions.  
The fact that he was bringing this up verbally indicated the severity of
his worry, however, and that concerned Alfred too.

    Dick sighed heavily, studying Bruce's face.  "I don't think I've
ever seen you reacting to any woman quite the way you've been reacting to
the mention of Dinah's name since the KOBRA incident.  It's more than just
frustration with her tactics, or anger at her for being careless.  It's
even more than the kind of fascination that the Huntress held for me - the
kind where you're almost repelled and you just want to shake her, but
you're still drawn together by the .... I hesitate to call it this, but
the passion that flares between you."

    Bruce's expression remained neutral, and a faint taint of crimson
colored his cheekbones.  He hadn't realized that he was so transparent.
Dick was clearly anxious about the situation.

    By this point, Dick was almost blushing, speaking so frankly to
his 'father.'  Unnoticed in the background, Alfred was actually rather
flabbergasted himself, but remained silent.  

    "Are you prepared for what it means to care about her?  Or are you
just playing with the fire for a little while?  It's easy to see the
sparks are there," Dick said softly. "But I'd hate to see either one of
you get burned by the out of control flame."

    Bruce sat, stunned, for a long time.  When he finally spoke, it
was to respond to Dick's concern with an uncharacteristic openness.  "I
don't know what I'm prepared for, Dick.  There are a great many reasons
why I don't entrust my identity to just anyone, and Dinah only knows
Batman.  It likely won't become an issue, but I guess it's just something
that I'll have to take as it comes.  Much as I hate that."  He grinned
slightly.  "Are you satisfied now?"

    Alfred put the last of the food away, and started on the dishes
silently.  As always, he would simply watch and hope for the best.  In
this instance, however, he had a good feeling.  Miss Dinah might be a very
good influence on the Batman indeed.

    Dick smiled a little sheepishly.  "So, it *is* a little more than
just your average intense situation breeding lust?"

    Bruce pursed his lips, that enigmatic smile back in place.
"Perhaps."  He wasn't going to kiss and tell.

***

    Walking toward the exit to the Dublin airport, Dinah finally
brought up the mission at hand.  "So how did you get yourself assigned
this duty, anyway, Michael?"

    "Tisn't hard, lass, when ye're born and raised in Dublin to get
assigned to any of the cases that involve the city.  Interpol wanted
someone familiar with the area."  Michael paused, and then smiled faintly.
"And Oracle requested me personally."

    Dinah raised a brow, looking at the tall redhead in surprise.  It
always boggled her mind to find out just how far-reaching the long arm of
Oracle was.  "How did you get involved with Oracle?"

    Michael shrugged, his eyes scanning the crowd with what looked
like an idle expression.  In reality, he, like Dinah, was watching for
danger.  "About 4 years ago, I was investigating a man named George Owens
on an arms-dealing charge.  The trail led me in a rather convoluted path
to the States, where I hit a dead end in Gotham City.  While I was working
with the police, I had an.... *interesting* encounter with an urban
legend."  He sounded almost amused, his brogue deepening slightly.

    Dinah snickered softly.  "So you've met the Big Bad Bat in person,
huh?"

    "Aye, lass y' could say that.  Very focused individual.  I was
contacted by Oracle with information that Batman compiled on the man I was
chasing.  It turned out he was using a warehouse in Gotham City t' store
his merchandise before shipping it."  He smiled, holding open the outer
door of the building for Dinah to precede him.  "This didn't make Batman
very happy, and we apprehended him rather quickly.  Since then, Oracle
occasionally sends me tidbits t' follow up on."

    Dinah scanned the area and stepped through the door.  "So you've
never met Oracle?"

    "No, lass.  Though 'twould be quite an honor.  I've never had such
a reliable informant."

    The two walked toward a waiting taxi, and Michael again held the
door for Dinah as she climbed in.  She gave the address of the hotel to
the driver, while he climbed in behind her and changed the subject deftly.
"So tell me which of the local sites ye'd like t' see first, love."

    If Dinah was surprised by the change in tone or the form of
address, she was too good an agent to show it.  She smiled, and responded
with just the right amount of affection. "It's your town, Michael.  I've
never been to Ireland before, so pick some of your favorite places.  A few
touristy areas would be fun, but I'd like to see what tour groups don't
show you."

    The taxi started to move, while Michael began to elaborate on some
of the tourist sights near the hotel they were heading for.  The ride was
uneventful, and they picked up their keys at the main desk of the hotel 35
minutes later.  In a soft voice, Dinah reproved Oracle through the
comlink.  "Did you *have* to put us in one room??"

    "Sorry, Dinah.  Figured that since you're the target of the hit,
you'd need someone to watch your back."  Barbara stopped and then asked
mildly.  "Does it bother you so much?  I promise, he doesn't bite.  He
might snore, though."

    Dinah grumped quietly, slipping the key into the door of the hotel
room.  Michael walked with her, seeming to not hear her grumbles while
keeping a watchful eye on whether they were being followed. Only the faint
quirk to his lips indicated he was making an effort not to laugh.  "Here,
let me, lass."  He took the key from her and opened the door.

    The only warning was the muted 'whump!' as Michael's body jerked
backward. Dinah's instincts were a second too late.  She cried,
"Michael...?" and tried to catch him and throw them both out of the way.  
They landed hard against the wall on the far side of the hallway, with
Dinah pinned behind Michael's greater bulk.  As they slid down the wall
into a heap on the floor, Dinah's hand came away from Michael's chest
covered in blood.  She looked up, into the hotel room.

    A woman was sitting on the king-sized bed holding a Browning 9mm
with a silencer attached.  Her smile was cold as she took aim at Dinah's
prone form.

    Even as Dinah struggled to free herself from Michael's weight by
rolling him to one side, the woman fired another silent round.  Dinah's
vision telescoped into that queer moment of tunnel vision that comes just
before the darkness.  The last thing she saw as the world went black was
the unknown assailant standing up from the bed and coming toward her with
the gun poised to finish the job.

* * * * *

    "Where is she?"  It was his Batman voice.  Dick could hear the
concern underlying the tone as Bruce spoke, though.  It was even more
clear in Barbara's response, though she too was using her 'business'
voice.

    "St. Mary's Hospital in Dublin.  She's in stable condition, Bruce,
but since you wanted to keep up to date on what's happening in the
Parker/Malone case, I thought you'd want to know.  Michael Connell is
stable, as well.  Whoever attempted to take them out was not a
professional."

    "Agreed.  If it were a professional hit, they'd have waited until
Canary and Connell were inside the room and out of sight of the other
guests."  Batman's expression was grim.  "I'm flying out within the hour.
Keep me up to date."

    Dick looked at his mentor, surprised but not very shocked.

    Barbara sounded confused. "Why?"

    Bruce's reply was succinct.  "You'll need someone else to go in,
and I'm the most likely candidate.  Patrick Malone doesn't have much time
left, if that attack is any indication."

    Barbara glanced toward Dick's face in the monitor, and ran a hand
through her tousled copper hair.  Dick met her gaze and shrugged very
faintly, as if to say 'what can you do?'  Finally, she nodded.  "I'll have
the specifics of where I *thought* he was being held and the police report
on the hotel room uploaded to your laptop en route."

    Bruce nodded.  "Dick, since you're laid up for a few more days,
please oversee Robin's activities in Gotham."  It was more an order than a
request, and Bruce continued up the stairs without noticing Dick's
flabbergasted expression.

    "Uhm.... Dick?"  He turned his azure eyes toward the screen where
Barbara was looking pretty surprised herself.  "Do I dare ask if you
talked to him...?"

    Dick paused, and then nodded.  "I don't think you really have to
ask that question, though."  He looked after his mentor, bemused.  "I
think he might be serious."  

    Grinning at Barbara, Dick couldn't help the soft chuckle.  "The
man just up and walked out of Gotham without looking back, all because
Black Canary was grazed by a bullet.  She's not even hurt that bad.  And
he asked for someone to stay and keep an eye on Robin, *not* take over."
He trailed off to muse aloud.  "Maybe he's going senile on us.  In the
early stages of Alzheimer's?"

    Barbara couldn't help the smile that quirked her lips.  "Maybe
he's falling in love.  Wouldn't that be a kick in the pants for him?"  She
shook her head a little, uncertain whether she believed her own words.
But whatever the reason he was doing it, she was glad Batman would be
there.

    Dick sighed softly.  "He's going to be impossible to live with, if
he doesn't get a handle on this.  Dinah's going to eat him for lunch if
she thinks he's trying to 'handle' her."

* * * * *

    Dinah's head felt like the entire percussion section of the New
York Philharmonic was playing in her head.  Her ears were ringing with
cymbal clashes while bass drums beat a solid, thumping tattoo in the base
of her skull.  Kettle drums thudded at her temples.  And she really wished
someone would stop ringing that damn triangle.  It kept beeping in her
ear.

    Beeping?  That was strange.  Triangles don't beep.  Was she
sleeping through her alarm?  Forcing her eyes to open, Dinah gave a soft
groan.  Light pierced her brain like a lance, making her think someone was
pounding on that bass drum with a sledgehammer.  Everything was swimming
out of focus.  Dinah squinted hard to make the room stop swirling.

    "Welcome back, lass."  A soft, feminine voice greeted her at the
same time that a round face came into view above her.  Dinah blinked
several times until the blurred mass came into focus.  The round face
contained a pert nose and was covered in freckles and a cheery smile.  
Soft green eyes studied her carefully from beneath a mass of curly brown
hair.  "D'ye know yer name?"

    Dinah swallowed, and tried to nod.  It just sent the percussion
section off again, and she raised her hands to try to stabilize her head
before it fell off her shoulders.  "Dinah Lance.  How long have I been
here?"

    The young nurse smiled.  "About 12 hours, lass.  I'm Nurse
Hannigan.  Ye took a nice crease t' yer head, but yer goin' t' be fine.
I'll let the doctor know yer awake."  She made a note on the chart and
turned to leave.

    "Wait!"  Dinah struggled with the vague sense of nausea that
accompanied her abrupt movement.  "Where are my things?"  She had to get
hold of Oracle.

    "They're put away, lass.  Now, no worries.  The doctor will be in
soon t' check on ye."

    Dinah grimaced slightly as the nurse left.  Okay.  Feel like crap.
Check.  All in one piece?  Check.

    A young doctor, perhaps in his early 30's, walked into the room
several minutes later.  "Good evenin', Miss Lance.  I'm Dr. Morgan.  'Tis
nice t' see ye awake, finally."  With his dark brown hair and hazel eyes,
Dr. Morgan might be considered 'cute.'  He couldn't be more than 5 feet 7
inches tall, though.

    Dinah nodded as she took in his slightly rumpled appearance.  
"Hello, doctor.  Can you tell me what's going on?  Where is my friend?  
The one I was with in the hotel?"

    Dr. Morgan shone a light into her eyes, which sent the bass drums
and kettle drums to pounding with renewed vigor.  Then he sat down in the
chair next to her bed.  "Yer companion, Mr. Connell?  He's all right,
lass.  I don't know what ye've gotten yerself into, but he was wearing a
bulletproof vest.  He took 4 slugs t' th' chest area, and he'll be good
and sore for a few days with some cracked ribs.  One of the bullets caught
him in the shoulder, but 'twas a flesh wound. 'Twas yer head wound that we
were more concerned about."

    Dinah reached up gingerly and touched the bandage that wrapped her
head.  "How bad?  If I've only been out for 12 hours, it can't be too
bad."

    Dr. Morgan shook his head. "No, 'tisn't too bad.  Now that yer
awake and ye seem t' have yer wits about ye, there's quite a bit less t'
worry about.  A bullet grazed ye, left ye with a nice furrow across yer
temple.  It was rather long, and we sent for the oral surgeon t' stitch ye
up."

    Dinah blinked.  "Oral surgeon?"

    Dr. Morgan smiled. "Aye, lass.  Believe it or not, oral surgeons
make much smaller stitches than anyone else, and I didn't figure ye'd mind
not havin' a huge scar across yer pretty forehead."

    Dinah grinned a little.  "Well, that's novel."  She sighed softly.
"I really need to let some people know that I'm okay... would it be okay
for me to have my stuff back?"

    Dr. Morgan nodded and stood.  "We're keeping ye overnight again,
lass, just in case.  Th' police have placed a guard out there fer yer
protection.  They'll want a statement when ye feel up t' it."

    Dinah nodded, tired suddenly.  When the doctor left, she closed
her eyes for a moment.  She believed she was hallucinating when a familiar
soft, gravelly voice asked in her ear, "How's the head?"

    It wasn't until something brushed her face that Dinah opened her
eyes, and jerked in surprise.  "Good God!  You scared me!"

    A faint smile quirked Batman's mouth.  "I could say the same,
Canary.  You do realize that getting shot is *not* on Oracle's mission
objectives for you, correct?  She wanted to make sure you did know that."

    Dinah wrinkled her nose.  "Yes, I know that," she responded
sardonically.  "Tell her to stop getting her panties in a twist."

    Batman reached out and smoothed blond hair back off the bandage.
Heat danced across Dinah's skin as he touched her.  If Dinah didn't know
better, she'd call his expression tender. She'd seen something very
similar when he'd handled the injured Nightwing.  "How's Nightwing?"

    There was a faint smile as Batman answered. "Still a brat,
thanks."

    Dinah grinned.  "So what are you doing in *this* part of the
world, may I ask?"

    Batman shrugged slightly.  "With you injured and Connell probably
out of commission for this assignment, you needed backup.  I was the only
one handy."

    Dinah could feel the electric tingles all over her body by now.
This was getting ridiculous.  She was blushing like a schoolgirl, as if he
sat on the edge of her bed playing worried suitor to her damsel in
distress.  She hated being the helpless damsel.  If only her head
would stop spinning.

    Batman pulled away, not giving away that he'd felt the spark when
he touched her.  He took a step back from the bed and let his cape fall
around him to hide the very slight trembling of his fingers.  The cape was
an effective piece of armor sometimes.  His expression regained the
neutrality that Batman was notorious for.

    Dinah's voice was shaky and her mouth dry when she spoke again,
trying to put them both back on a businesslike footing. "Well, good. The
first thing you can do is get me out of here. We have a job to do, and me
on my back for another 12 hours might just cost Patrick Malone his life."

    Batman nudged her back into a prone position on the bed gently.
"No.  Oracle located the place they're holding him, and they're in an
uproar right now.  Fitzhugh's faction has a hit planned for tomorrow.  
You rest for now and we'll catch him in the act.  Interpol will be in on
the bust, and Fitzhugh will be out of business.  While they're busting him
on the hit, we'll be breaking Malone out.  He'll testify."

    Dinah was trying to decide whether to be incensed or not.  Batman
was waltzing in here, off his turf, and trying to take over her
investigation.  Rage took too much energy, but there was a sharp edge to
her voice as she responded.  "I don't need backup.  And I don't need you
to come in and rescue me.  As you can see, I'm perfectly fine.  You can go
back to Gotham, and you can tell Oracle that I don't need her to call in
the big guns from out of town."

    Batman held back his sigh.  Dinah was only reacting exactly as he
would have in her place.  "Fine.  You can reach her via comlink when you
get released, and she'll have all the information about where the hit's
going down.  Take care."

    Dinah subsided into the bed, still feeling vaguely nauseous,
wishing the pain in her head would stop.  "Good.  I'm sure I'll see you
back in Gotham soon."  She paused and looked up at him, softly adding,
"Thank you for coming.  It was nice of you."

    Batman paused for a moment, looking intently at her face.  Even
now, with her head bandaged up, she was gorgeous.  He was having to
restrain himself from gathering her up into a hug.  Maybe he was going
insane.  What the heck was he *doing* here, he asked himself.  "Get well,
Dinah.  I'll see you soon."

    Dinah closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them,
Batman was gone.  If she'd been less ill and thinking more clearly, it
might have occured to her that he acquiesced too easily to her demand that
he leave Ireland.  She fell asleep remembering how those chiseled lips
felt against her own.

***

    Dinah stood in front of the statue of Daniel O'Connell, known as
'The Liberator' to the Irish due to his achievement of Catholic
Emancipation in 1829.  It sat on O'Connell Street in downtown Dublin.  
Amused at the story that went along with the naming of the street, she was
waiting for Brendan Malone, a cousin of the captured Patrick Malone, to
meet her.  She was watchful of the traffic in the area, cautious about the
possibility of a sniper.  "So the cab drivers got the street name changed
from Sackville to O'Connell just through sheer stubbornness?"

    "Yeah.  Pretty funny, huh?  They just pretended they didn't know
that the street was named Sackville, and finally the city changed it."  
Oracle's voice was amused.

    Dinah started to ask something else, and then stopped.  "I think
I've spotted Brendan Malone.  He's wearing a Boston Celtics cap, 80 meters
west of me and incoming."

    Oracle zeroed in on the target, and waited tensely.  This could go
wrong so easily.

    "Afternoon t' ye, lass."  Malone's voice was husky and soft, just
deep enough to be a little mysterious with that lilt of Ireland to it.
"Brian said ye'd expect a pass phrase.  'Tis 'Tiddlywinks wi' manhole
covers.'"

    Dinah laughed outright, and Oracle couldn't help the chuckle.  She
hadn't told Dinah what the pass phrase would be until now.  "Yeah, that
would be Brendan Malone."

    "That was quite original, Brendan.  Nice to meet you.  Now let's
get your cousin out of there, hmm?"  Dinah's tone still held amusement,
though the situation was serious.

    "Aye, lass."  Brendan was solemn.  "If we don't get him loose
t'night, chances are he'll be dead by mornin'."

    Dinah sobered instantly and nodded.  "Let's meet your group,
then."

* * * * *

    Six men sat inside the cottage.  Two watched the local news on the
television while three cleaned the array weaponry sitting in the dining
room table. There was little talk among the men, but the sixth man was
tense.

    Smoking a cigarette, standing at the window, Lucas Fitzhugh
watched the landscape as night claimed it.  "He's late."

    One of the men cleaning a 9mm pistol glanced up calmly.  He was an
older man, with a receding hairline.  White hair and white bushy brows
were offset by the deep brown of his eyes.  He looked tired.  "He'll be
here, lad.  Michael will be ready t' move Malone very soon."

    Lucas glanced at the older man.  "Seamus, Michael is a fool for
confrontin' Malone this way.  Takin' over the organization is one thing,
but takin' th' man's kid is goin' too far."  He nervously took a drag on
his cigarette.  "There's bound t' be retaliation.  In a big way."

    With a soft sigh, Seamus nodded.  "Aye, lad.  There will be.  But
ye know that it's necessary.  We need t' be more proactive about our hits,
and Patrick isn't gettin' th' job done."  His deep voice was soothing, but
it didn't quell Luke's nerves.

    "I'm goin' outside t' walk a patrol."  Picking up an Uzi, Luke
headed for the back of the house.

    Seamus looked at the others in the group, regret in his dark eyes.
"Th' lad isn't cut out fer this kind o' job.  What Michael was thinkin',
bringin' him in, is beyond me.  Ye keep an eye on him.  He's tryin' too
hard t' get Michael's approval, and he's goin' t' make a mistake that'll
cost us."

    One of the other men responded roughly.  "'Tisn't his fault,
Seamus.  Michael pushed him int' it, and th' lad isn't ready t' have t'
kill fer his beliefs.  Th' rest of us... we took that step a long time
ago.  'Twasn't any easier on us than 'twill be on Luke.  But he'll take
it.  An' probably sooner, rather than later."

    Seamus just shook his head.  Luke, the youngest of the four
Fitzhugh brothers, should not be involved in this.  But it wasn't his call
to make, so he'd just do the best he could to look out for the boy.

* * * * *

    Luke made his way through the back hallway of the cottage,
crushing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the kitchen table as he passed
it.  He couldn't believe that Michael had ordered the Parker boy and his
mother killed.  When had his brother gone mad?

    Letting himself out the hedge-door, a doorway hidden in the
hedgerow that protected the cottage, Luke felt the hair on the back of his
neck prickle.  Closing the door silently behind him, he eased through the
bushes.  He had no idea what he was looking for, but he was starting to
trust his own instincts, and those instincts were telling him that
something was wrong out here.  Luke kept to the shadows, and his caution
was rewarded by the sight of a darker shadow within the hedgerow.

    Luke's heart started pounding in his chest, and sweat stood out on
his face.  What the hell was that thing??  It looked like... a banshee!
His hands tightened convulsively on the Uzi as he tried to stop himself
from running in terror.  The shadow moved very slightly and its shape
became a little more distinct to Luke.  That's not a banshee, he thought.
It's a man-sized bat!  Luke brought the barrel of the Uzi up, though it
shook so badly, he couldn't get a bead on the bat.

    Luke nearly wet himself when the shadow dropped to a crouch and
started to move toward one of the windows, and started to speak in a low
voice.  Terror was subverted by rage.  Who the HELL did this freak think
he was, sneaking up on a body dressed like a friggin' bat??

    Luke's voice was cold.  "Stand up, ye caped freak.  Who th' hell
are ye?"

* * * * *

    The fact that Ireland is misty and cloudy much of the time was a
huge asset to the Dark Knight.  Batman hid himself in the shadows of a
hedgerow near the small cottage where Patrick Malone was being held.

    "Oracle.  Can you verify Malone's presence in the cottage?"

    "Batman, what are you doing at the cottage?!  You were supposed to
meet Black Canary and Malone's rescue team 3 miles from there at the pub!"
Oracle's concern came through loud and clear.

    "Canary is in no shape to be involved in this, Oracle.  She
doesn't even know I'm here, so she's not expecting me at the meeting
point.  The further you can keep her out of it tonight, the better off
she'll be."

    On the other end of the headset, Barbara groaned.  Oh. My. God.
Dinah was going to kill the Batman.  She could see it coming.  "This is
_her_ mission, Batman.  You better hope she doesn't take you for one of
the bad guys and shoot you."

    Batman allowed himself a rare smile.  "She won't."

    "Famous last words," Barbara muttered to herself.  Canary was
definitely going to shoot him.

    "Stand up, ye caped freak.  Who th' hell are ye?"  The voice
behind him took Batman completely by surprise.  The fact that someone had
managed to see him in the dark and sneak up on him was surprise enough,
but the fact that this person was not intimidated by the cape and visage
of the Bat was also a rather large shock.

    Batman turned and stood upright slowly, using his most formidable
pose and imposing voice to respond.  "I'm Batman."

    The assailant, clearly unimpressed, eyed the black outfit.  "Ye
think ye're a rodent?  If 'tis after impressin' me ye are, I should warn
ye... rodents won't do."

    The machine gun pointed at Batman was no joke.  Oracle mumbled in
Bruce's ear.  "You must be losing your touch, or you'd have remembered
that part of what makes you so effective here is the RUMOR of the Bat.
They've got scarier things in Ireland than the Batman."  She sighed.

    Where had this guy come from, Batman wondered?  He swung into
motion, kicking his foot out at the muzzle of the machine gun.  He *hated*
guns.  He'd hated guns for... well, ever since that night.  As the barrel
swung wide, the stunned man clenched his hand in reflex.  A staccato burst
of gunfire shattered the silence.  It also brought all kinds of attention
to the scene.

    It also showed Batman how the assailant had gotten the drop on
him.  Part of the hedge itself was backed up against the house, and there
was a door cleverly hidden behind it.  A door through which two gunmen
came running in response to the sound of the automatic weapon.

    From the front door of the cottage raced three more of Fitzhugh's
gang, all wielding machine guns expertly.  Batman followed up his kick
with surgical strikes to his assailant's chin, nose and solar plexus.
Whirling to see three more bearing down on him, Batman discerned that he
had two options.  With no skyscrapers, he couldn't 'fly' out of the way.
He could either run, or he could fight.  He took a fighting stance.

    Oracle was yelling over the comlink, but the staccato bursts of
gunfire going off all around him drowned her out. Within seconds, he was
busy dodging the barrage of hot lead to stay alive.

* * * * *

    Brendan Malone's motley-looking group of men had the hardened edge
of men living in a war zone.  There was a total of six, plus Black Canary
and Brendan.  Introductions were brief and to the point, since everyone
already knew the plan.

    "Pete and Mike Murphy," Brendan pointed out two blond-haired
giants, brothers.  If it hadn't been for the coldness of their blue
eyes, Canary might have thought they looked too innocent to be doing this
line of work.  But something in the eyes gave it away.  

    "John Conroy," Brendan continued.  He was a black-haired,
dark-eyed man in his late 30's who looked every inch the mean
revolutionary.  His suspicious gaze watched her every move carefully.  

    "Joe Malone, Connor and James Burke," Brendan pointed out the last
three.  "They're Malone cousins, all of 'em."  Joe had blond hair and deep
blue eyes, and the family resemblance carried over to Connor and James
Burke as well.

    "Nice to meet you."  Black Canary studied each man.  They would be
solid allies tonight.  She hoped none of them were hurt.  She began
helping load the van that would carry them to the base camp, a pub located
three miles from Patrick Malone's holding site, owned by a Murphy cousin.

    "Canary, Canary, come in!"

    Startled by the urgency in Oracle's tone, Dinah's head came up.
"Yeah, Oracle, what is it?"

    The 6 men accompanying her stopped what they were doing to watch
warily.

    "Batman's already at the cottage, Dinah!  He's got three guys
shooting _machine guns_ at him, and he just went down.  He's hit!"

    Dinah threw the last of the gear into the van and hollered, "Move
out.  Now!  Someone got overanxious and went in ahead of schedule!"  She
scrambled into the front seat of the van, letting Brendan drive.
"Oracle," she said in a low, heated voice.  "You and I are going to have a
*serious* little chat when I get back.  About whose missions are whose and
who gets to be backup overseas."

    That IDIOT, Dinah fumed.  Didn't he understand that in Gotham, he
might be the Big Dog, but anywhere ELSE in the world, he was just a wierdo
in tights and a cowl??  "If he dies, so help me God, I'll bring him back
and kill him myself," Dinah hissed under her breath.

    Barbara, trying to keep tabs on Bruce from her end, heard the
comment and stopped for a split second.  Then she resumed her assignment.
Even as all this was happening, Interpol agents were arresting Fitzhugh's
team at the target site.  At least that had gone according to plan,
Barbara thought.

* * * * *

    The pain was incredible, although Batman had been in similar pain
before.  He couldn't hold back a groan.

    A tired voice floated to him in the darkness of the basement.
"Are ye all right, lad?"  At the same time, Oracle was asking the same
question through his comlink.

    "Yes," Batman gritted.  "I'm fine."  Just peachy, in fact.  Except
that I can't tell if the bullet nicked the artery in my thigh, he thought
to himself.

    Slowly pushing himself upright from the prone heap he'd been left
in, Batman began yanking his gauntlets off his arms.  Though his captors
had taken the utility belt, they'd left him in the mask and gloves.  They
had no idea that the gauntlets contained several very useful items, like a
length of extremely strong, very fine twine that could be used in an
emergency to tie to a grappling hook.  Or to tourniquet his leg.

    "Are ye sure, lad?  How bad off are ye?"

    "Not bad," responded Batman.  "Bleeding.  Caught one in the leg."

    "I can't help ye, they've got me hooked t' a cot wi' a manacle.
Who are ye, and what're ye doin' here?"

    The darkness in the basement was almost absolute, except for very
tiny pinpricks of light from the floor above.  Batman paused. "I was sent
by a friend to help get you out. Your son's safe in the United States.  
He and his mother are in protective custody until we can get you free."

    Patrick's heartfelt relief was something Bruce could relate to.
"Thank God.  Ye couldn't have brought better news, my friend.  Shaun's
safety is all that's important t' me.  Is Diana furious?  She must have
thought I took him."

    Batman worked on sliding the twine beneath his leg.  He could feel
the blood coming from the open wound, and he knew if he didn't stop the
bleeding, he would die.  Sooner, rather than later.  He was already more
than a little lightheaded.

    Oracle's voice sounded in his ear.  "Diana's fine.  And Canary's
on her way to you."  A thread of amusement lightened the concern in her
tone.  "And boy, are you gonna get it."

    Batman grunted in response.  He answered Patrick while he tied off
the bit of twine and put pressure on the bullet wound.  "Ms. Parker is
fine.  Frightened, but she doesn't blame you.  She knows you were captured
getting your son out."

    In the darkness, Patrick said softly, "God, she was the best thing
that ever happened to my life.  I've screwed up so bad."

    The room was spinning, and as much as he hated it, Batman knew if
he didn't keep talking, he was going to pass out.  What to say, though?
His mouth seemed to make the decision for him, he could hear his own voice
sort of echoing in his thoughts. "I have a son, too. He's a man now, but I
still feel the same way.  Like every time something bad happened to him,
it was my fault.  I wish I could tell you it goes away... but it doesn't."

* * * * *

    Pete Murphy cracked his knuckles.  Whether it was nerves or
anticipation - or a little of both - Black Canary couldn't tell.  All of
the men were quiet and tense.

    Connor Burke finally spoke up.  "Pete, if ye don't quit that
racket, I'm gonna break those fingers and ye won't have t' *worry* about
crackin' yer knuckles!"

    James Burke snickered, nudging his brother.  "Aw, leave 'im alone,
Con.  Ye know he does it all th' time."

    Pete just smirked faintly and did it again, for good measure,
before putting his hands on his legs.  "Sorry, Con."

    Joe Malone reached up to tap Brendan, who was driving, on the
shoulder.  "Do we have any idea where precisely, they're keepin' him,
Bren?"

    Black Canary answered that.  "My source has said they're keeping
in him confined in the basement of that cottage, and that he's currently
unhurt."  She looked over the seat at him.  "Don't ask me where the
information came from, I just know my source knows more than God."  She
grinned a bit ruefully.  "Or at least as much as God, it seems like."

    A general round of chuckles greeted the comment.  "Sounds like th'
kind of source ye want t' keep around fer a long time," John Conroy
commented.

    "You bet," replied BC.

    The van pulled up quietly just a half block from the cottage.
Oracle's voice crackled softly in Black Canary's ear.  "Dinah, he's losing
a lot of blood.  You guys have to move fast.  He's starting to spill his
guts in there."

    "I'm on it, Oracle."  Black Canary's voice was tight with emotion.
Anger and fear for Batman warred inside her.  She climbed out of the van,
and pulled the group of men around her.  "All right.  This is your show,
I'm here for two things only.  To get your friend and now my friend *out*
of that cottage.  I will not be killing these people.  Do *not* shoot me
in your zealous break-in.  And be careful, we don't want to hit the
hostages.

    Grunts greeted her words, and three of the men chambered rounds
into their own modified semi-automatic weapons.  Brendan was one of them.
"They have my cousin, and they will be lettin' him go, lass."

    Dinah sighed softly.  Then she nodded, and motioned for Brendan to
take his half of the team around the back side while she and the other
three men went through the hedgerow to the front.  "When you get back
there, give the signal and then wait for our acknowledgement.  Count to 10
and go in."

    The group split up almost like a football huddle.  An infinitely
dangerous huddle, considering the 'play' they were planning to run, Dinah
thought to herself.  God, he better be okay.

***

    Patrick Malone had been injured enough times to know that his
cellmate was in bad shape. The Irish terrorist could tell that the man was
losing consciousness quickly, and he tried to keep Batman talking.

    "Were his teenage years hard?  Yer son?"

    Batman grunted softly in response, his voice gravelly. "Hard? Not
really. He was stubborn, willful, moody, insolent."  He trailed off.

    Patrick laughed softly. "Sounds pleasant," he said in a sardonic
tone. "How about girls? When I think of Shaun dating, I get all weak at
the knees.  Not lookin' forward t' explainin' th' facts o' life, if ye get
the drift."

    "Didn't date much.  Had a crush on his ex-babysitter.  Big mess.
Not that far apart in age.  Just enough to be a problem."  Batman's words
were slow, as if he had to think hard to find them.

    Patrick smiled in the dark.  "What's yer favorite memory of him as
a lad?"

    There was no answer for a long moment. Patrick was beginning to
fear that his mysterious cellmate had finally succumbed to his wounds when
he heard a long, slow breath being taken in. His companion finally spoke
up, his monotone acquiring a faraway tone.

    "When he was nine, he decided to play Superman--which, if you know
anything about us, well--" He stopped. A moment later, he continued. "He'd
run around the house in his Superman pajamas. Slide down the banister on
his stomach. Huge banister. Great big sweeping staircase."

    Patrick made a small sound of surprise.  "Weren't ye afraid he'd
crack his skull open?"

    Barbara, eavesdropping on Batman's condition through the comlink,
couldn't help a small smile.  She remembered those times, though she
hadn't known then why the blatant hero-worship caused Bruce Wayne apparent
pangs of annoyance.  Later, when she learned who Batman was, it made a lot
more sense.

    Although his words were beginning to slur, Batman couldn't keep
the pride out of his voice.  "Not much chance of that.  Fabulous
athlete..."  His thought processes were slow and he meandered through the
pleasant memory. "But he gave me this *look* -- as if to say 'I can do
_anything_!'"  He paused, growing weaker, his eyes sliding closed in the
darkness.  "The world was his oyster...and *my* world..." He began losing
consciousness. "...just got a bit...brighter..."  It would be so easy to
just let go.

    "Lad?"  His companion's voice had trailed off into nothingness at
the end, and Patrick was more than a little concerned.  "Lad, ye still
with me?"

    Batman roused a bit.  "Mmm-hmm.  Still here."

    Patrick nodded, though it wasn't visible.  "Shaun's a pretty good
athlete, too.  His mother's got him int' playin' soccer, and she sends me
photographs."  

    Batman spoke in a soft hiss.  "Does he like it?"

    "Aye, he likes soccer a lot.  He also likes baseball."  Patrick
sounded pleased.  "He's taught his Irish cousins how t' play, so when he
comes, they play baseball t'gether sometimes." Regret colored his voice.
"I don't get t' see Shaun much."

    Batman's tone held the solemnity of someone who knows he hasn't
got much time left. "You should ... probably ... consider ... different
job. If... want to see... him play."  Bruce lost the battle with his body,
sliding into the deep well of inky blackness that swelled up to overwhelm
him.

    Oracle yelled in Batman's ear.  "BRUCE!  You have *got* to stay
awake! C'mon, Dinah's coming!  Hold on just a little longer!"

    Patrick looked upward as the sounds of fighting broke out above,
interspersed by gunfire.

* * * * *

    Dinah's team went for the front door while Brendan took his group
around the back of the house.  Joe Malone, John Conroy and Pete Murphy
were in Dinah's group.  The rest would split up into two teams at the back
of the cottage - half through the hedge door, and half through the kitchen
door.

    Dinah could see through the front windows where an older man and a
younger one were arguing, while several others listened tensely. "Oracle,
can you eavesdrop on that discussion?  We have about another minute before
we're going in."

    "Checking...."

    A soft whistle came from the side of the house, and Joe Malone
nudged Canary.  That was the signal.  They were ready.  Black Canary
whistled back. The countdown began.

    "Never mind, Oracle."

    As the count reached one, all three teams burst into the small
cottage.  As efficiently as any SWAT team BC had ever seen, the three
small teams of Malone men began to overwhelm the Fitzhugh group.  With all
six men located in the front room, Canary's team had close quarters
advantage.  Guns at this range wer harder to get on taret.

    Black Canary leaped through the air, sending a flying kick into
one man's stomach.  Grabbing an older man's arm as it came around to aim
at one of her companions, she used her own momentum to flip him to the
floor. Gunshots rang out from several directions.

    Two of Fitzhugh's men went down immediately, both hit in the leg.
Mike Murphy, who was hit in the shoulder during the spate of gunfire, and
James Burke held weapons on those two, while Conor held a gun on the
older man that Black Canary flipped.

    Joe Malone and Pete Murphy each held a man at gunpoint, which
accounted for all but one of the Fitzhugh men.  Black Canary did a quick
headcount, and then asked, "Where's the sixth guy?"

    Joe Malone, looking around, asked another question.  "Where's
Brendan?"       

* * * * *

    Brendan Malone hadn't burst into the main room with everyone else,
he'd taken up position in a bedroom doorway.  One of Fitzhugh's men tried
to sneak down the back hallway, and he grabbed the man around the throat.  
Putting a gun to his head, Brendan whispered harshly, "You better not even
breathe wrong, lad, else I'll kill ye and not think twice."

    With his air supply cut, the man Brendan held struggled only
momentarily, then he nodded slightly.

    "Good lad.  I thought ye'd want t' live.  Now where's th' basement
door?"

    Brendan followed the motion of his captive's hand back toward the
kitchen.  When he reached the lit room, he realized that he held Michael
Fitzhugh's youngest brother.  He was disgusted.  They'd all been friends
once and, up until Michael staged this coup, he'd considered them almost
like family.

    Roughly pushing Luke ahead of him, Brendan snarled.  "Unlock th'
bloody door, lad."

    Gasping for air, Luke did as he was told, hands shaking.  "Ye're
not g-g-gonna k-k-kill me, are ye, Brendan?"  He stammered in his fear.

    Brendan looked at the young man, barely 20 years old, and sighed
heavily. "No, lad, I'm not gonna kill ye.  But ye're gonna free my cousin,
or I'm gonna hurt ye real bad."

    Luke nodded and stepped aside as soon as the padlock on the
basement door was open.

    Brendan bellowed, "Joseph!  Canary!  I've found 'em!"

    That rallying cry brought BC running.  "Where?"  Spotting the open
basement door, she darted past Brendan.

    Flipping a light switch to get some light to the bottom of the
stairs, BC was stunned to see the condition of Batman and Patrick Malone.
Malone was chained to a cot with a manacle and chain, and he couldn't move
more than 6 inches in any direction.  Batman was reclined against the wall
on the furthest side of the basement from Malone, and the pool of blood
around him looked enormous.

    Brendan breathed an expletive and yelled up th' stairs, "Lucas
Fitzhugh, ye little shite!  Get Conor!  Th' costumed lad is bleedin' t'
death!"

    Canary was already down the stairs, checking Batman's tourniquet.
"Oracle, Dublin doesn't have 911."

    "I've already got a medical team dispatched to you, Dinah.  I
called them as soon as it sounded like you were done with the shooting.  
Stay calm."  Oracle's voice came across as soothing, though she herself
was extremely worried.

    Patrick Malone got his first look at his cellmate after his eyes
adjusted to the lights.  He breathed out a soft expletive, eyes wide.
"What th' hell is the *Batman* doin' in Ireland?"

    Black Canary snarled softly.  "That's what *I'd* like to know.
Especially after I told him not to be here."  Her hands were incredibly
gentle as she put pressure on the wound, and her worried eyes were on what
she could see of his face.  He had clearly passed out.

    Patrick Malone, now freed of his manacle by Brendan's expert
lockpicking skills, moved to Black Canary's side.  "He was awake until th'
gunfire began.  I think he passed out about then."

    "Oracle, he took on round high on the inner thigh.  No exit wound.
He's managed to fashion a tourniquet on the leg, but it's still bleeding.
I'm afraid to pull it any tighter, he might lose the leg.  I think it may
have nicked the artery."  Canary's concern escalated, her fear evident in
her voice and face.

    Patrick Malone gently pulled BC backwards so that Conor could get
in there.  "Lass, Conor's a doctor.  Let him look at your friend."

    Conor Burke came down the stairs three at a time, still carrying
his weapon.  He took one look at Batman and blanched.  The sheer volume of
blood was incredible, aside from the fact that the man was wearing a bat
costume.  He squatted next to Batman, and checked the leg efficiently.
"It hit th' artery.  He's not got much time."

    Patrick nodded, taking command of the situation.  "Get him
stabilized, we'll move him up the stairs.  The hospital's less than 20
minutes from here."

    Conor didn't comment that Batman probably didn't have twenty
minutes, but it was in the glance he shot Patrick.  A glance interpreted
and accepted by the terrorist with a faint, regretful nod.  

    Black Canary struggled out of Patrick's grip and dropped to her
knees, her hands already covered with Batman's blood.  "There's an
ambulance on the way. "It's less than three minutes from here.  They'll be
able to stabilize him."  She hauled the huge man into her lap, cradling
his head against her chest, and started very softly scolding him while
Conor attempted to halt the bleeding.  God, please help me, Dinah prayed
silently.  Let him hold on.

    Patrick looked toward Lucas with ice in his gaze.  "If he dies,
Luke, I'm holdin' ye personally responsible."

    Lucas held up his hands, pleading.  "Patrick, I swear t' ye, I
didn't have no idea what Michael was doin'.  Not 'til it was too late!
He's my brother, but I wouldn't have supported him on this.  Ye have t'
believe that.  We were friends."

    Patrick's response was interrupted by Seamus, who was standing at
the top of the basement stairs, his arms bound behind him.  "He's tellin'
th' truth, Patrick.  Ye weren't doin' th' job th' way we wanted, but Luke
didn't want this.  He came along t' try and keep ye safe.  T' try and talk
Michael out of his next move."

    Patrick moved menacingly up the basement stairs toward Seamus.  
"And just what is his next move, old man?"  The fact that he stood one
stair below Seamus did not seem to give the older man any advantage at
all.  Patrick's tension was tangible.

    Seamus met Patrick's eyes tiredly.  "He's got a man on yer son,
Patrick.  He knows they've been taken int' protective custody in th'
States, and he's got a sniper on them."

    Enraged, Patrick backhanded Seamus and screamed, "If Shaun is
injured, I swear t' ye, Seamus, yer life won't be worth two pennies!"

    Sirens wailed as an ambulance pulled up out front.  Two men
carrying a stretcher descended the basement stairs and immediately took in
the situation.  Patrick went back to ease Black Canary away from Batman so
that they could do their job.  She didn't even notice the tears that
streaked her face while the paramedics carried him out.

* * * * *

    Oracle rubbed her eyes.  The past thirty-six hours had been some
of the roughest of her life.  Nightwing had *not* reacted to the news of
Batman's shooting very well at all.  Through a series of contacts,
principally Superman, she'd managed to keep Batman's identity a secret
long enough to get him stabilized in Ireland and then moved back home to
Wayne Manor.  It was touch and go, though.

    Alfred's usual composure was shattered with exhaustion.  "We'll
know by tomorrow, Miss Barbara.  Dr. Leslie and I have done all that can
be done.  The blood transfusion he recieved in Ireland helped, but it may
have come too late.  All we can do is wait."

    Barbara nodded.  "Is Dick still there?"

    "Yes, Miss Barbara.  He finally fell asleep in there two hours
ago."

    Sighing heavily, Barbara nodded again.  "Wake him, please?  
Canary is en route back to Gotham with Patrick and Brendan Malone in tow,
along with two Interpol agents.  They'll arrive within the hour.  If BC's
information is correct, though, Fitzhugh may make his move before they
arrive."

    "I understand.  He'll contact you shortly."  Alfred shut his end
of the link, leaving Barbara to press her palms into her gritty eyes for a
few minutes.  She was running on little more than caffeine and adrenaline.
If they did not catch Fitzhugh, Diana and Shaun were dead.  Not moving
them had been a strategic risk, and she hoped the cost wouldn't be their
lives.

* * * * *

    Black Canary raced toward Gotham.  With her were four grim men.  
Michael Connell, the Interpol agent who'd been shot at the hotel in
Dublin, and another Interpol agent by the name of Sam Bailey had been
assigned to the situation.  In addition, the two Malone men had refused to
be left behind.

    Once she reached the outskirts of the city with her entourage,
Canary opened her comlink. "Oracle, we're in the city limits.  What have
you got?"

    "Nightwing's in position, watching the targets.  He thinks he may
have spotted Fitzhugh, but he's not certain.  The Feds have people
watching any and all entrances to the building."

    Canary nodded slightly, relaying the information that the house
was being monitored closely.  "An ally has also joined the fight.  He's
there as well.  If you see a costumed guy, *don't shoot*."

    Only Michael Connell was familiar with Gotham's rumors.  "Robin,
lass?"

    "No, Nightwing.  One of the Titans."

    Patrick nodded, and was silent as Black Canary described the
vigilante to the others, so they knew who not to shoot.

    Oracle's voice sounded in Canary's ear urgently.  "Fitzhugh's
making his move on the safehouse, Dinah.  Get your team there!"

    The car they travelled in suddenly roared forward as Canary
floored the gas pedal.  "Fitzhugh's moving!  The house is four minutes
from here, hold on!  We're gonna make it in 1.5!"  She expertly ran red
lights while evading other cars.

***

    Nightwing perched on the roof of one of the 15-story Mercury
Apartments buildings.  The complex was a set of four matching buildings
surrounding a landscaped central courtyard.  A large fountain was the
centerpiece of the courtyard below, and Nightwing's position atop the
Mercury South building gave him a full view of the courtyard's walkways
and benches, as well as the apartment in Mercury West being used as a
safehouse for Diana and Shaun Parker.

        Nightwing absently took a headcount of the agents in the area.  
There were five teams of agents in the Mercury West building.  One team of
two was covering each of the four entrances to the building and one team
was in the apartment with the Parkers.

        Using his Starlite lenses, Nightwing scanned the area
continuously, trying to ignore the fatigue that dragged at him.  Only
adrenaline was keeping him alert.  Bruce's condition had kept him from
getting any sleep since the shooting, and when he'd finally dropped off
for a couple of hours, Alfred had woken him due to the urgency of the
Parker situation.

        "Anything, Nightwing?"

        "Nothing.  How's Bruce doing?"

        "No change, Boy Wonder."  Oracle's voice was soft.  "He'll pull
through, though.  Hang tight."

        Nightwing tried to steer the conversation back to other topics
that didn't scare him as much as the possibility of losing his father did.
"Are you sure there's a sniper here? If there is, I don't see hi..."  His
voice trailed off.  "Wait.  Got him.  He's in a window of the Mercury East
building.  I'm heading that way."

        "For God's sake, don't get shot.  I can't handle more than one in
a month," Barbara muttered under her breath.

        "Oracle, you better tell Canary to hurry."  Nightwing's voice was
calm.

        "Why?"

        "Because I just spotted Fitzhugh.  He's got 5 goons with him and
he's just overpowered the Feds standing at the maintenance entrance of the
building."

        "What??"  Barbara was stunned.  She'd expected Fitzhugh to sneak
in, not go in with guns blazing against federal agents! 

        "I can't stop him, the sniper is the more immediate threat.  But
if that's an example of our federal tax dollars at work, I want a refund."
Grim amusement colored Nightwing's tone with that quip, and then there was
silence as he launched himself off the south building on a jumpline.

* * * * *

        Black Canary's van screamed on two wheels around the corner of
Mulberry Street. Four men with very white faces held grimly onto their
seats.

        Michael Connell mumbled something under his breath about crazy
American women drivers, which elicited a half-chuckle from Patrick Malone,
who was seated next to him.

        Patrick murmured back.  "Ye ought t' see Diana.  She puts derby
drivin' t' shame when she's ticked off."

        Soft snickers from the other two men accompanied that statement.
Dinah ignored all of them, slamming on the brakes in front of the building
where the "safehouse," an apartment on the twelfth floor of Morgan
Sterling Apartment Homes, was located.  Grunts accompanied the abrupt halt
in forward momentum as the men slammed forward into their seatbelts.

        Scrambling out of seatbelts and climbing out of the van, Patrick
Malone was four steps from the van when Black Canary grabbed him.  "Stop."

        He halted, looking at her in surprise.

        BC pointed around the side of the building.  "There are teams of
two federal agents posted at each door.  If you go tearing up there, we'll
get shot.  The ones at the front door are expecting us."  She looked at
Michael Connell. "Go first. We're right behind you."

        Michael nodded.  He walked toward the building and stopped with
his hands out to his sides to show he wasn't armed.  (Well, okay... he
*was* armed, but he wasn't holding his weapon out in a threatening
manner.)  "Michael Connell, Interpol."

        Two men in nondescript dark suits came out and checked his ID.
They nodded and waved the group into the building, stopping Black Canary
just before she entered.  "Keep your ID handy.  The two guys in the
apartment will check it again when you get there."  Black Canary nodded
and followed her compatriots in.

        "Canary, Nightwing has engaged the sniper.  Fitzhugh is already in
the building."  

        Oracle's businesslike tone belied the urgency of the situation.

        Canary swore under her breath.  "How'd *that* happen?  That's what
the guards were for!"

        Oracle sighed.  "Well, I don't think anyone expected the jerk to
just waltz up to two federal agents and overpower them.  He came in the
maintenance entrace.  We expected him to try to sneak in.  He's making no
attempt to hide it, really.  I'm trying to get a fix on their positions
now.  But I can't send aid to the guys at the maintenance door without
calling a lot of attention to the situation, and if we do that, Diana and
Shaun could wind up hostages."

        Black Canary broke into a jog, catching up to the four men and
hissing a warning to them.  "We've got company!  Fitzhugh's in the
building."

        Patrick Malone immediately paled.  Michael Connell and his
partner, Sam Bailey, tensed and drew their weapons immediately.  Brendan
Malone just waited, and Black Canary rapped out orders.

        "Patrick, you and I will take the stairs on this side of the
building.  Sam, no one has actually ever seen you, so you take the
elevator up like you're going to visit a friend up there.  Brendan and
Michael, take the stairs on the other side of the building.  We'll meet up
by the elevator on 12."

        The group split up quickly, with Sam Bailey holstering his weapon
and remaining behind to push the elevator call button.

* * * * *

        Alfred and Dr. Leslie stood near Bruce's bed, worried expressions
on their tired faces.  They'd had to strap him down.  His fever was raging
out of control.

        "If it doesn't break in the next couple of hours, Alfred, we're
going to have to take him in.  He's holding stable at the moment, but if
the fever goes any higher, he could be risking brain damage."

        Alfred nodded slowly. "I understand, Dr. Leslie.  Is there
anything further we can do?"

        Bruce's voice, hoarse from shouting in his delirium, came from the
bed.  He weakly struggled against the bonds.  "Dick!  Got to ... get out!
Can't stay... place is gonna go up!"  He tossed fitfully.  "Got to go ....
c'mon, Canary!  Where are you?!  Not dead.  Can't die ... on me.  Nooooo!"

        While Alfred sponged Bruce's hot face, Dr. Leslie checked the IV
connected to his arm.  "The medication should begin taking effect any
time, Alfred.  All you can do is what you *are* doing.  Be here for him."

        The old butler nodded sadly, his voice a whisper as he tended to
the man he considered his eldest son. "Young man, you must stay calm.  
Master Dick and Miss Dinah are both fine.  Sleep."

        Alfred's reassurances did seem to calm the patient somewhat. Bruce
subsided to the occasional fretful twitches, mumbling out his concern for
Dick and his fear for Dinah.  He was lost in a world that alternated from    
the Kobra complex blowing up again and again, and Dick sliding down the
front bannister in his Superman pajamas.

* * * * *

        The glint of moonlight off the muzzle of the gun was what caught
Nightwing's attention.  He swung from the South rooftop of the complex on
a grappling line, carefully judging his arc toward the East building of
the complex.  He was coming in right on target, like Tarzan swinging
through the trees.  He literally smashed through the window where the
sniper was sitting with his gun pointed toward Mercury West.  

        The assassin hadn't even seen Nightwing coming at him until the
last minute, and he didn't have time to bring his weapon around.  As
Nightwing crashed through the glass, he caught the comical expression of
horror and shock that had the assassin gaping at him.  He slammed into the
assassin amid the shower of glass shards, roughly carrying both of them to
the floor.  The high-powered rifle in the hands of the killer went off
twice before Nightwing could get the gun out of his hands.

        Recovering from his shock, the assassin struggled with Nightwing.  
However, the tremendous power behind Nightwing's bulk had knocked him to
the floor and forced the breath out of his lungs, restricting his
movements.  It took less than a minute for Nightwing to knock him out with
one well-placed fist to the jaw.

        "Oracle, the sniper is subdued."  Nightwing looked around the
apartment, noting the two bulletholes in the ceiling.  "Better get GCPD in
here to pick up the trash and check on the people in the apartment
upstairs from this one," he said as he cuffed the assassins wrists and
ankles together.

        "They're on their way, Boy Wonder.  You better get to Mercury
West, though.  The teams are just about to go in and they need a
diversion."

* * * * *

        BC and Patrick made it as far as the eighth floor without
incident.  Between the eighth and ninth, however, all hell broke loose.
One of Fitzhugh's bruisers was on his way down the stairwell and
recognized Patrick Malone.

        "Wot th' hell..???"

        Black Canary immediately leaped into action.  The huge blond man
was standing three steps above her, and around the corner of the landing.
She had to time her move to avoid hitting Patrick, standing to her left
and a step behind her.

        Using the bannister as a pivot, BC grabbed it with her right hand
and somersaulted up and over the railing.  Both feet hit the surprised man
in the face, and he crashed backwards onto the stairs with blood dripping
from his broken nose.

        Patrick, meanwhile, had instinctively ducked when Dinah went over
his head and over the railing.  Now, however, he was holding a pistol to
the blond giant's head.  And he looked deadly serious.   "Where's
Fitzhugh?"

        The giant shook his head adamantly, cradling his bloody face with
one hand, refusing to speak.

        "Lad, I'm goin' t' give ye t' th' count o' three.  And then I'm
goin' t' blow yer fool head off."  Patrick's cold tone stopped Dinah
short.  She knew this man was a terrorist.  But my god, she thought as she
watched him, he would really do it.  And feel no remorse at all.

        Mumbling around his injured nose, the blond man spoke.  "Nuthin
you could do would be worse than what he'll do t' me if I tell ya."

        BC could see the rage in Patrick's gaze, and she held her breath.
Stepping in the middle now could definitely be a problem.  When Patrick
raised his hand as if to fire, she almost threw herself at him.  But
something in his expression stopped her.  Instead of firing the gun,
Patrick clobbered the giant with the pistol butt, knocking him out cold.

        Letting out a quiet breath, Black Canary eyed Patrick.  From her
earpiece, Dinah could hear the relieved sound Oracle made and she mentally
echoed it.  "Let's go.  They'll be at the top by now."

        Moving cautiously, they continued up the stairwell to the twelfth
floor.  Peeking out the door, Black Canary noted the position of the two
guards outside the Parkers' safehouse.  She let Patrick look, and when he
shut the door, his expression was grim.  "Those are Fitzhugh's men on th'
door, lass.  And Brendan gave th' signal from th' far end of th' corridor.
They're in place."

        Black Canary grimaced and spoke into her comlink. "Oracle?  We
could use a diversion.  We've got two guards outside this door, and two
unaccounted for."

        Oracle's reply was immediate.  "The two unaccounted for are the
ones standing at the bottom of the stairwell door.  So Fitzhugh is
apparently alone in the apartment with Diana and Shaun.  One diversion
coming up."

* * * * *

        Nightwing traversed the distance between the Mercury East and
Mercury West buildings by way of a grappling hook and jump line.  It took
him only a few moments to alight on a small ledge on the thirteenth floor.
Attaching a piton to the stone facade of the building, he anchored himself
to the piton by a small hook and cable in his belt, and walked down the
wall to peek in the window of the Parkers' safehouse.

        He had to bite back a curse.  "Oracle," he hissed softly into his
comlink.  "Fitzhugh is in the apartment.  He's got Diana and Shaun seated
on the couch, but they're not tied up.  The two agents are unconscious,
though. One is bleeding, though I can't tell how bad it is."

        Barbara acknowledged him, and then linked Canary's comlink into
the conversation.  They could now communicate with one another as well as
her.  "Canary, what's your team's position?"

        BC's voice came back quietly.  "Patrick and I are in the south
stairwell.  Brendan and Michael are in the north stairwell.  Sam's already
gotten off the elevator and made his way out of sight of the two guards on
the door.  They checked him out, but since he didn't show any inordinate
interest in them, they didn't do anything."

        Nightwing spoke up.  "Canary, I have an idea.  Can one or two of
your guys cause a diversion in the hallway while I create one in the
bathroom of the apartment?"

        Black Canary sounded puzzled.  "In the bathroom?  Yeah, we can set
Sam to engaging the guys in conversation.  Say when."

        There was silence on Nightwing's end.  With a small handheld
radio, Canary communicated to Michael and Sam what was needed in the
hallway, and they all waited tensely for Nightwing's diversion.

***

       Michael Fitzhugh held his pistol in a sure grip.  He didn't even
have to threaten the woman.  Diana Parker was cooperating nicely because
she didn't want her son injured.  She cradled the little boy in her arms.
At least his frightened whimpering had eased some.  It was grating on
Fitzhugh's nerves.

        "What are you going to do with us?"

        "Shut up."  He barked the order in a rough voice.  "You'll find
out quick enough, as soon as yer man shows up."

        Diana shook her head.  "He won't come here.  He's not stupid.  He
knows what you're up to."

        "Ye better hope he does, b*tch.  He's th' only hope you have."
Fitzhugh's cobalt blue eyes had to be the coldest sight Diana had ever
seen.

        Averting her eyes, Diana looked around the small apartment.  She'd
thought they would be safe in the hands of the federal agents, but they
were both on the floor.  She couldn't tell if they were dead or not.  Her
gaze skimmed around restlessly, and then stopped.  There was a puddle of
water slowly spreading down the hall.  She frowned slightly.

        Fitzhugh was speaking to his guards outside the door.  When he
came back, he noted the direction of her gaze, and looked to see what had
her attention.  "What th' hell...?  Mullins, get in here!"

        Mullins, the stocky brown-haired guard from the hallway, came into
the apartment.  "Yeah?"

        Fitzhugh gestured toward the bathroom.  "Looks like th' toilet's
overflowin'.  Go in there and shut it off 'r something.  We don't need the
superintendant poundin' on th' door before Malone gets here."

        Mullins complained.  "I ain't no plumber!"

        Fitzhugh levelled the pistol at him.  "Do I have t' tell ye more
than once t' do anything?"

        Eyeing the gun, Mullins shook his head slowly.  He pivoted on his
heel and went down the small hallway to the bathroom, leaving Fitzhugh
alone with Diana and Shaun.

* * * * *

        As soon as the dark-haired ape walked into the apartment and shut
the door, Canary put the next phase into motion.  She signalled Sam
Bailey, who moved out of his niche and headed down the hallway toward the
remaining guard.  The guard's attention was on Sam and he didn't see
Brendan Malone and Michael Connell slip silently out of their stairwell.

        Sam stopped by the guard.  He spoke with a faint Southern drawl, a
legacy of his early childhood spent in Georgia. "Hey, mister. D'you know
what time it is?  My watch has stopped.  I was supposed to meet a friend
down the hall at her apartment, but she's not there.  I'm thinking maybe
she's running a little late."

        Reilly, the man standing guard on the door, studied Sam closely.  
Nothing in Sam Bailey's demeanor or stance indicated that he was anything
more than what he seemed - a guy who was lost. "No, I'm not wearing a
watch."

        Sam nodded companionably.  "That's too bad."  Without a flicker of
an eyelash to give away the fact that two men were slinking up the hall
behind the guard, Sam shrugged.  "I can't believe this watch stopped.
Paid a damn fortune for it, and I've only had it a year."

        Reilly smirked.  "Maybe ye should be more careful where ye spend
yer money, then."

        Sam grunted in mild annoyance.  "Yeah, guess I should.  Hey... do
you have a light?"  He rummaged around in his pants pockets.  "I could use
a cigarette while I'm waiting."

        Reilly looked down and reached into his jacket pocket.  It was the
last thing he would remember doing when he woke up.  Brendan Malone
thwacked the base of Reilly's skull with the butt of his pistol, and the
large man crumpled soundlessly.  Sam caught him as he fell forward.

        Brendan put away his gun and, between them, he and Michael dragged
Reilly's unconscious form around the corner into a janitor's closet.  Sam
Bailey took position on the door.  Canary and Patrick Malone left their
own concealment quickly, heading for the door.

        "Oracle.... we're in position to enter the apartment."

        "Hold position!  Nightwing will tell you when to move."  Oracle
made certain the link between Canary's comlink and Nightwing's was still
open.  Nightwing had made no sound since he'd told Canary to create a
diversion in the hall, but his link was active.  He was definitely hearing
everything.

* * * *

        Nightwing waited in the shower stall, behind the vinyl curtain.

        Mullins entered the bathroom, visibly annoyed and muttering
angrily.  "Only friggin' pair o' shoes I got, and I gotta ruin 'em
traipsin' through toilet water.  Just perfect."

        He stopped just inside the bathroom doorway, looking puzzled.  
The toilet wasn't overflowing.  The bathroom spigot was on and the sink
was stoppered.  Water was rushing out of the faucet and overflowing the
counter and the floor, spilling into the hallway.

        Mullins growled.  "Damn kids!"  He looked around hurriedly, and
grabbed a towel off one of the towel rods to throw on the floor.  He
reached out and shut the faucet off and then, poking his head around the
corner into the hall, he bellowed to Fitzhugh.  "Damn kid busted the
f***in' sink."

        Fitzhugh could be heard swearing in the living room.  "Clean it
up!" he hollered.

        Mullins rolled his eyes, mumbling again.  "And what am I, I ask
ye?  A f***in' slave?"  He raised his voice, though, to acknowledge the
order. "And what d'ye think I'm doin' in here, if not cleanin' it up?"

        He tried to skirt around the puddle of water, but it was useless.
The entire bathroom floor had half an inch of water covering it. His
leather shoes squished through the mess, and Mullins swore roundly.
"Friggin' plumber and now a maid."  He yanked up his sleeve and plunged
his hand into the basin, yanking the stopper out of the drain.  "Damn kids
ain't got brains in their f***in' heads, leavin' th' damn water runnin'
like that."

        Mullins turned and surveyed the mess, shaking his head.  Then he
grabbed two more towels and bent over to start swabbing up the water on
the floor.

        Nightwing had been waiting for an opening, trusting that the
terrorist would give him one.  He leaped onto Mullins' back while his
attention was on the floor, clapping a cloth over the man's face.  It was
soaked in something similar to chloroform, but much faster-acting.

        Mullins grunted in shock, slammed downward by what felt like a
moving freight train.  His shoulder banged into the vanity, and he reacted
to the attack with a powerful lunge that slammed Nightwing into the
bathroom door, which in turn slammed shut.

        Nightwing gasped into his comlink.  "Canary, now!"

* * * * *

        Fitzhugh jerked around as the bathroom door slammed shut.
"Mullins?" he demanded.  He headed for the hallway, shouting.  "What th'
hell are ye do..."  He was cut off when the front door crashed in.

        Black Canary heard Nightwing's order and reacted immediately. She
nodded to Patrick, who held his gun with the same competance that the
Interpol agents did, and the two of them broke down the door with one
well-placed kick.

        Swinging the Uzi strapped to his shoulder around and upward,
Fitzhugh loosed a lethal rain of bullets from the machine gun.  The rounds
punctured pictures, walls and the doorframe.  With his free hand, he
pulled a pistol from his belt.

        Diana screamed, reacting instinctively to shield her son. Shaun
was too terrified to make a sound.  She pushed him behind her on the
couch, and rolled her body up so that the little boy was no longer
visible.  Only then did Shaun begin to cry.  "Mommy!  Mommy!"
                
        Black Canary flew into motion, dodging to the right.  There was a
small end table nearby, which she kicked over and used as cover for a
moment, trying to take stock of the apartment's layout.  Patrick dodged
left, behind a chair.  Glass smashed and a lamp next to Patrick exploded
into sparks under the hail of bullets.

        The kitchen was to the immediate right of front door, with an open
archway next to the door and an open archway into the small 'dining room.'
Dinah was crouched just below a window/breakfast bar into the kitchen, and
Patrick was cornered on the opposite side of the little entry foyer from
her.  A short hallway to the right of Dinah went to the bathroom and
bedrooms, and the sliding glass door was directly opposite the front door,
behind Diana and Shaun.

        If Patrick could keep Fitzhugh's attention, it was remotely
possible, Dinah thought, that she might be able to get Diana and Shaun out
of the living room. They were 10 feet from the 'dining room' archway.

        Fitzhugh, enraged, concentrated his machine gun fire toward
Patrick.  The wall around the chair and the chair itself were riddled with
hot lead.

        Patrick crouched down *way* low.  The screaming of Diana and Shaun
were eating at him, and he knew he didn't have much time.  "Diana!  Stay
down, lass!" he yelled over the weapon's chattering.

        The other three men - Sam Bailey, Brendan Malone and Michael
Connell - held position outside the front door.  The gunshots kept them
from entering.  Sam peeked in the doorway, but he couldn't see exactly
where anyone was.

        Oracle could hear what sounded like a massive amount of ammunition
being expended.  "Canary... what's happening?"

        The wild gunfire shattered the sliding glass door out to the
balcony, which was behind Diana and Shaun's couch.  Both of the hostages
screamed again, and Diana sobbed in fear.  She had her eyes tightly closed
and she was probably smothering Shaun beneath her, protecting him with the
only thing she had - her body.

        "Be with you in a sec, Oracle."  Canary peeked out from behind her
end table.  Fitzhugh caught sight of her a fired three rounds from his
handgun at her.  She ducked back.  But her actions caught Patrick's eye as
well, and she used hand signals to indicate her intentions.

* * * * *

        Oracle cut the common link between Nightwing and Black Canary.  
They couldn't afford to distract one another.  "Nightwing, what's going on
in there? Cops and feds are going *nuts* downstairs!!"

        Nightwing was crouched low in the bathroom doorway, peering
through a crack in the door.  "I can't quite see what's exactly happening,
but Fitzhugh is standing in the middle of the room with at least two
weapons.  An Uzi and a handgun."

        Oracle muttered a curse.  "And this was your plan?"

        "No," Nightwing growled.  "I was supposed to be out on the ledge,
on the balcony.  Unfortunately, the goon who came in to deal with the
diversion was bigger than I expected, and it got messy.  Gotta go... I
think I can get in there."

        Nightwing cut Oracle off, and went clambering back out the
bathroom window.  Fitzhugh's bullets had shattered the sliding glass door
in the living room, which made his entrance that much easier.

* * * * *

        Canary's plan was risky, but it was a chance.  Patrick would have
to keep Fitzhugh's attention on himself and off Black Canary.  It would be
up to her to get Diana and Shaun out.

        Patrick stood up from behind the chair, both hands up so that
Fitzhugh could clearly see that he was not pointing a weapon at him,
though he did still hold a handgun in his fist. "Michael, what're ye
_doin'_, mon?"

        Fitzhugh sneered.  "What ye couldn't, Patrick.  We ain't winnin'
with yer tactics.  'Tis time ye stepped down."  He paid little heed to
Black Canary, his attention solely on Patrick with a fanatical gleam in
his eyes.  "We're doin' it my way from now on, boyo.  And that means ye
have t' be out o' th' way."  He lifted his Uzi to fire at Patrick. "I want
ye t' bleed, Patrick.  I want t' watch th' life pour out o' ye slowly."

        Black Canary moved silently, crouched low in the kitchen doorway.
As soon as Fitzhugh was out of the way, she was going to get Diana and
Shaun Parker out.  But right now, he was blocking their path.  Patrick
knew it too, and worked on keeping the terrorist's attention on himself.

        "Ye know that doin' it yer way is gonna get men killed, Michael.
Hell, mon, ye almost got yer own brother killed when ye held me!  D'ye
think I won't repay that favor, especially if ye hurt my son?"

        Fitzhugh's Uzi swiveled immediately from Patrick, who had no
apparent fear of dying, to the curled up forms of Diana and Shaun.  "D'ye
think I care?  If I kill them, and ye kill me, then my men will just kill
_ye_ on th' way out of th' building.  And then someone else will run th'
group."  

        Patrick's fear clenched into a cold knot in his gut as he realized
the full extent of the situation.  Fitzhugh's vendetta wasn't about taking
command.  It was purely personal.  His hatred for Patrick had driven the
man right over the edge.  And he didn't care who he hurt as long as
Patrick paid.

        As if to prove that point, Fitzhugh fired a barrage over the top
of Diana and Shaun into the ceiling above them.  It send clouds of plaster
drifting down, and Diana hunkered into an even smaller ball.  She was
shaking so hard, it was visible.  Shaun's sobs were those of a terrified
child.

* * * * *

        Nightwing dodged backward.  That was too close.  He'd been
standing on the ledge with one foot on the balcony railing to see what was
happening when Fitzhugh turned and fired in his direction!  Bullets went
sailing past him into the night sky.

        His heart beating like a triphammer, Nightwing peered inside
again, gathering himself to spring.

* * * * *

        Fitzhugh noted Black Canary's form in the doorway of the kitchen
and swung wildly in her direction, firing off a short burst from the
machine gun.

        BC somersaulted across the floor, hoping that a stray bullet
wouldn't hit Diana and Shaun Parker.  Bullets punctured the wall behind
her, shattered the dining room light fixture and flew down the hallway
toward the bedrooms as well.  One barely missed her, screaming by her ear
so close that she thought she might have a blister from the heat.

        Sam Bailey, hearing the direction of the gunfire change, started
to move at about the same time Patrick acted.  Fitzhugh's machine gun was
pointed off to the side of the room at BC, and away from both the front
door and the chair. Patrick scuttled across the floor, trying to reach
Diana and Shaun's couch.

        Out of the corner of his eye, Fitzhugh spotted Sam Bailey coming
in the front door, and turned the machine gun's lethal spray back toward
the front door, never letting up on the trigger.

        "Get down!  Get down!"  Michael Connell shouted from outside the
door as Sam threw himself to the floor inside the kitchen.  They were well
and truly pinned down.

        "Sam, are ye hit??"  Michael asked from the doorway.

        "Negative!"

        As Fitzhugh turned his gun away from Black Canary's position, a
figure came hurtling from the direction of the balconey.  Two flips and a
somersault over the couch where Diana and Shaun cowered gave the black
shadow enough momentum to send Fitzhugh ramming into the far wall when
Nightwing slammed into him from behind.

        Fitzhugh pitched forward, arms thrown high, face-first into the
wall and bounced back so hard that he crumpled to the floor. 

        Nightwing used the impact of his feet on Fitzhugh's back to
rebound, flipping once and ending up on his feet in the middle of the
living room.  He kicked the two weapons out of Fitzhugh's reach and eyed
the terrorist.  That hit should have knocked him out cold, and it appears
to have done the job.

        Long seconds of complete silence ensued.  No one moved.  No one
even breathed.  It was a soft whimper from Shaun, beneath his mother, that
galvanized everyone in the apartment into motion.

        Patrick scrambled to his feet from his belly-crawl position on the
floor, firing questions rapidly at Diana.  "Are ye hurt, Di?  Shaun?  Lad,
ye okay?"

        Diana Parker began to sit up, sobbing uncontrollably.  As upset as
she was, Shaun was holding onto her tightly and crying even harder.  His
face was buried in her chest, and he still didn't seem to understand that
it was done.

        Brendan Malone burst in the door and took stock of the situation.
Michael Connell hastened immediately into the kitchen to check on Sam.

        Dinah grinned at Nightwing. "Timing is everything."  She spoke
into her comlink.  "Oracle, the situation is under control."

        Nightwing's amusement turned to horror.

        Four things happened almost in the same second.  Sam Bailey,
Michael Connell and Brendan Malone entered the apartment; Fitzhugh lifted
his arm, revealing a third pistol which he levelled at Diana and Shaun;
Nightwing kicked out at the gun hand; and Patrick Malone blew Fitzhugh's
brains all over the rug.

        Everyone in the macabre tableau was frozen for a split second. The
two federal agents were just stepping out of the kitchen, but they'd seen
what was about to happen. They hadn't been able to move quickly enough to
stop it.

        Patrick lowered his 9mm slowly, the look in his eyes harsh and
cold.  Nightwing shuddered a little at the expression.  He'd seen
something similar in Bruce's eyes at times.  The look of a parent, willing
to literally kill to protect their child and never regret it.

        Sam Bailey pulled out a cellular phone and dialled 911, while
Michael Connell moved to Fitzhugh to check for a pulse.  He looked at Sam,
shaking his head to indicate there was nothing.

        Black Canary raced over to Diana and Shaun to make sure neither of
them had been hit.

        "Nightwing!  Canary!  What's going on??"  Oracle's voice held more
than a little concern.

        Nightwing, appalled at what he'd just seen, responded.
"Everything's locked down, Oracle.  Fitzhugh is dead.  Diana and Shaun
Parker are fine."  He glanced at Dinah to confirm that.

        Canary nodded slightly, and wrapped an arm around Diana.

        Brendan and Patrick Malone simply looked resigned.

        "Daddy!"  Shaun sobbed.  He struggled to get out of his mother's
grip. "Daddy!"

        Patrick raced over to Diana and Shaun, carefully keeping himself
between the boy and the sight of Fitzhugh's bloody corpse.  He engulfed
the little boy in his arms, pressing Shaun's face to his shoulder.  "'Tis
all right, lad.  I'm fine. I promise ye, I'm fine."

        Black Canary assisted Diana to her feet, helping her get around
Fitzhugh's body and out into the hallway.  Patrick carried Shaun.

        Nightwing watched them go, and slipped quietly out the balcony
door.  Retreating to the rooftops, he remained nearby until the police
arrived on the scene.  He watched sadly as the coroners came in to bag the
two agents who'd been in the apartment with Diana and Shaun before
Fitzhugh arrived.

        "Oracle?"

        "Yes?"

        "How's Bruce?"  Seeing Patrick hold Shaun that way brought back so
many memories of his own childhood that Dick had forgotten.  The times
when Bruce sat beside him all night because of his nightmares.  Flying
kites in the huge yard.  Alfred and Bruce sitting around the table with
cookies and milk, listening to him ramble about some small thing that had
caught his eye.  Dick prayed silently that his father would make it.

        There was a silence on the other end.  "His fever's broken.  Dr.
Leslie says he'll be fine, though weak for a while."

        Nightwing wilted in relief, breathing a soft prayer of gratitude.
"You should let Canary know.  I'm heading home.  GCPD is doing their jobs
well and they don't need me."

* * * * *

        The crime scene was a madhouse.  The police were badgering Patrick
for a statement so much that finally Black Canary intervened.  "I'm taking
them to a safe place to pass the night.  You can question them tomorrow.
I give you my word that they won't leave the country."

        Much argument over that ensued until Michael Connell backed her
up.  Dinah took Patrick, Diana and Shaun to a small nearby hotel.

        Patrick tucked his son into the double bed while Diana took the
opportunity to shower.  Dinah watched the father and son, reminded of
another father and son she'd had the chance to observe.

        "Oracle, it's Black Canary.  Can you update me on the situation
with Batman?"

        Patrick's gaze turned to Dinah and he listened.

        "He's recovering, Dinah.  His fever's broken."

        Dinah's relief was evident to Patrick, and he tilted his head
slightly.  "Ye care for him a great deal, don't ye?"

        "Who?"  Dinah looked surprised.  "Batman?"

        Patrick nodded, smoothing hair absently back off Shaun's innocent
sleeping face.

        Pausing, Dinah phrased her reply carefully.  "He's a complex man.
On the one hand, he's cold and ruthless in pursuit of justice.  And yet...
I've seen him show his heart with a very few people.  And it's like
there's a other side to the man that I thought was nothing more than the
Dark Knight."  She hesitated a moment, and then finished.  "Much like you,
actually.  You killed Fitzhugh and didn't even blink, but yet you're one
of the most tender fathers I've ever met with Shaun."

        Patrick smiled faintly, meeting Dinah's eyes.  "I have no regret
for what I did t' Fitzhugh, lass.  Nor will I ever.  He threatened my
son."  He shrugged.  "Th' one has little t' do with th' other.  We all do
what we have t'.  But yer right about Batman. He's quite human."

        Dinah tilted her head, listening.

        Patrick noted the reluctance to ask what she wanted to know, and
smiled.  "Th' lad and I had a chance to exchange stories about our sons,
'tis all."

        Dinah looked shocked.  Batman rarely told anyone anything.  He'd
told a terrorist that he had a son?!

        "While he was gettin' lightheaded, he was tellin' me about the
time his young one was pretendin' t' be Superman.  Th' lad had Superman
pajamas and would slide down the bannister of th' stairs on his stomach. I
imagine it was quite a thrill for th' young lad.  And quite a fright on
his father, that he'd remember so vividly."

        Dinah laughed softly, imagining Nightwing as he was now and what
he must have been like as a child.  Though she couldn't put a face to it,
she could certainly imagine the picture.  And she started to laugh.
"Yeah.  I could see where that might make him a little nuts."

        Looking around the room, Dinah sighed.  "You guys be careful.  I
hope things work out for you."  She glanced at Patrick.  "Not going to be
an easy life."

        Patrick smiled a little and looked down at his son.  "No.  But
it's worth any cost t' me t' make a better one fer him."

***

Epilogue



        "So are you still hoping Batman might take you up on that offer,
Dinah?"

        Sitting on top of the Wayne Enterprises building in downtown
Gotham, Dinah grimaced. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?"
That flirtatious comment about showing Batman her scars one day seemed to
be a top focus of at least the Bat-portion of the superhero community.

        "Nope," Oracle laughed.  "I'm dying to hear what you said to him
about showing up in Ireland on you."

        Dinah scowled.  "I haven't yet.  I'm still furious that you let
him go to Dublin."

        "*Let* him?  Dinah, have you ever tried to *stop* him?"

        Ruefully, Dinah smiled. "Yeah, actually.  It didn't come out so
well.  How's he doing, anyway?"

        "Why don't you ask him yourself, Canary?"  The deep voice came
from behind her and, to her credit, Dinah didn't even jump.

        "I'll call you back, Oracle," she said, swiftly climbing to her
feet and cutting off the com.

* * * * *

        "Dinah, wai.... Dinah?"  Oracle rolled her eyes.  "Just perfect.
You're just doing this to tease me, you witch."

        "Doing what?"

        Barbara turned, smiling as Nightwing seemed to appear out of
nowhere.  The man had *the* most annoying knack of getting through her
security systems.  "She cut me off just as Batman arrived to have a chat
with her."

        Nightwing grinned.  "And you're surprised?  C'mon, those two have
done nothing but tease us with this crazy relationship they've got going
since the start."

        "Yeah, well."  Barbara huffed.  "I wanted to hear her eat Batman
for lunch.  He so rarely gets taken down a peg."

        Nightwing laughed at her.  "That's true enough.  Wanna listen in?"
His blue eyes glinted wickedly at Barbara.

        She blinked.  "How?  Canary's shut off her com and Batman won't
acknowledge his, I'm sure."

        Nightwing's expression held all the boyish mischievousness that
she remembered from his years as Robin.  "I bugged him."

        Barbara's green eyes went very wide and she clapped a hand over
her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  "You *what*?" she hissed.  And
then she giggled softly, "Turn it on, turn it on!!"

* * * * *

        Dinah stared at the shadow that melted out of the darkness, her
jaw set with anger and some other emotion she wasn't sure she wanted to
name.  Her voice caught as she asked, "Are you sure you should be out
tonight?"

        "Why wouldn't I be?"  Batman's features were impassive.

        "Oh, I don't know.  Maybe because you almost died less than three
weeks ago.  Because you were stupid enough to *not* leave my case to me,
and got yourself *shot* on my watch, and nearly *bled* to death in my
arms!"  Dinah's voice had risen on each point, until she was shouting by
the last words.

        Batman was silent.

        "I see.  Nothing to say for yourself?"  Dinah released the fear
that had gripped her when he'd been so close to dying, using it to feed
her rage.  "Are you so entirely full of yourself that you believe your own
press?  You're not a hotshot anywhere but in this city, where your
reputation alone is enough to frighten most criminals.  Don't you *ever*
interfere on one of my missions again, do you understand?"

        Batman hesitated, and then stepped forward.  He reached out to
caress her cheek with his hand, though he couldn't feel her skin through
the gauntlet.  "I didn't mean to scare you," he said softly.

        Dinah moved to slap his hand away, and instead found herself
cradling it to her face.  The tears that she'd refused to shed earlier
sparkled in her eyes.  "I almost hate you for making me care enough to be
scared for you.  Never again.  I promised myself, never again."  She
looked up at him.

        A faint smile curled half of Batman's mouth.  "I know."  Leaning
down, he sealed his lips to hers in a searing, passionate kiss.

        Dinah reeled at the intensity and responded heatedly.  The two
figures remained locked in the fiery embrace for what might have been
eternity.  When their lips parted, Dinah's eyes remained closed.  She was
gasping softly for air, and Batman's breathing was little better.

        He rested his forehead against hers.  "This is insane," he
whispered roughly.  "I can't need you like this. It can't happen anymore.
Take care of yourself, Canary."  And then his touch was gone.

        Dinah forced her eyes open, bewildered.  When she looked around,
he was nowhere in sight.  Mildly, she said into the night air, "Damn you."
There was no anger to it, only resignation and understanding.  As afraid
as she was of the sudden conflagration between them, she'd let people
close to her.  It could hurt, but it was usually worth it.  Batman was
running scared.  "It's not over."

* * * * *

        Barbara and Dick looked at each other, and blushed vividly.  She
murmured softly, "That was definitely not meant for our ears.  We didn't
hear that."

        "Hear what?" Dick asked.  He stood upright, and just met Barbara's
eyes.  His concern and bemusement were clear.

        "Bruce is losing his heart."  Barbara sighed.  "I hope.... I don't
know what I hope."

        Dick kissed her softly on the head and hugged her shoulders.
"Yeah.  Me either.  I'll check on him."

        He left the same way he'd entered, leaving Barbara to marvel at
the kind of crazy life they all lived.


The End... for now...