A/N: Heya! Here it is finally, the 'Divison Bell poll' winner! I hope it's what you guys expected. I don't know how long a police training takes, so probably Dick couldn't already be an officer in this... but let's just say that people wanted to see Dick in uniform and let him pass quickly. Oh, Officer Grayson!

Thanks to Shiroi Misa for helping me out with the idea, to Callypse for her speed- betaing and everyone who voted!

Warnings: Short mentioning of child abuse, nothing explicit (no shock moments this time, I promise ;) )

The Times They Are A-Changing...

Bruce's eyes opened slowly, his eyelids heavy. Bright light hurt his eyes, but blinking turned out to be tricky; his reflexes worked, but slow, sluggish.

"Bruce?" A familiar voice called next to him.

Bruce. He wasn't in costume then, good. He relaxed a bit, and the pounding behind his temples lessened the tiniest bit. He tried to remember what had happened, but things were blurry, noises muffled.

So Bruce decided to concentrate on the current situation. He wasn't in the cave – the lights were too bright and the bed he was lying in too soft. It wasn't his room in the Manor either, the smell was different. It was.. clean. No, not clean, sterile. Hospital, then.

"Bruce, look at me."

Yes, why not. It was as good a start as any. Bruce tried to keep his eyes open for longer than a few moments and turned his head – oww, that hurt. It wasn't pleasant, but the pain made the dizziness retreat and helped him to focus. Pain usually meant danger, and danger meant he had to focus, had to be aware.

The familiar voice belonged to a familiar face. Dick.

"Thank God, you're awake," the young man said with a tiny, relieved smile. "I'll be right back; I promised to call Alfred."

He was gone in a blur of movement, leaving Bruce a few precious moments to come back to himself. It was enough for him to roam his memory – he had been in Blüdhaven, on a rare business conference, and when he came back to the hotel...

an explosion, then flames, heat.

Someone was screaming, crying, and then the world spun...

When Dick returned, Bruce was already sitting upright in his bed, staring out of the window at the skyline of the city his son had fled to.

"Alfred wants me to say that he told you so," Dick began, looking at his hands awkwardly. He didn't sit down again, Bruce noticed, but remained standing in the middle of the room.

"What happened?"

"A bomb detonated in your hotel. Possibly on your floor, the BPD is still investigating. You were hit on the head by flying debris, but the doctor said it's nothing serious, just a concussion."

"Any other victims?"

"No deaths, but two chambermaids got second degree burns and a passerby was cut by flying glass. Luckily it was late at night already, so only the night shift was present and the streets were pretty deserted."

Bruce's brow furrowed when the memories returned, slowly. There was something nagging in the back of his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "How long was I out?"

"Only a few hours. It's still before noon."

"Hmm."

Dick was still standing in the middle of the room, obviously feeling uncomfortable. Frustrated by his as yet missing memories, Bruce concentrated on the young man. It had been a while since he'd last seen him; his last visit to the Manor had been months ago.

Dick was in uniform, Bruce noticed only now. Had he been on duty during the assassination attempt? Then maybe he had also seen what kept replaying before Bruce's inner eye, that dash of colour... brown? And ...pink?

"The hospital called me," Dick piped up, sensing Bruce's confusion. "I had the early shift, but since your case is top priority for the BPD and I'm not allowed to participate, they let me visit."

Bruce nodded, feeling the silent accusation. He hadn't told the boy he was in Blüdhaven, and that call came probably as a shock.

"I didn't know I was still your emergency contact..." Dick said softly.

Bruce almost flinched. Of course Dick was still his emergency contact, had he messed things up so badly that Dick had believed otherwise? Had he changed his contact person?

The familiar guilt bubbled up at once. He really had messed things up. When was the last time he had even spoken to the boy? The last visit had ended in a screaming match, as usual, and Bruce found he couldn't even remember when they had last exchanged as many words as they did now.

He had promised himself and Alfred that he'd make things up so many times, and yet he had never succeeded. Not for lack of trying, though; Dick and Bruce had tried to reconcile many times over the last two years... well, one and a half year, actually. It had taken six months until Dick even spoke to him again. Only six months in which so much had happened they could argue about, it was like a never-ending story: As soon as Dick had admitted that he might have overreacted and Bruce didn't per se threw him out, they argued about Dick's choice of profession. As soon as Bruce had realized that a police career actually fit his stubborn son perfectly (and really, hadn't he himself pushed him into that direction?), Bruce took in another child, another Robin, and the screams echoed across the estate again.

"So... do you need anything? Pain meds?" Dick broke the silence. He was roaming the room for something to talk about, a rare sight for the young man who had probably started talking the moment the doctor had slapped him across the backside at birth.

Sadly, Bruce wasn't any help. Smalltalk had only ever been one of Brucie's virtues, while Bruce Wayne couldn't even apologize to his first son. There was only one thing he was fluent in, and although it would break the silence, it wouldn't mend the tension.

"Have you visited the crime scene yet?"

Something flickered across Dick's face, too fast for Bruce to understand. Had it been hurt? Annoyance? "No. I was sleeping while it happened, and the call came when I walked into the headquarters."

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow. "You're in bed at 1am? The thugs must have had a hell of a night."

"I have a day job, you know?" Dick all but hissed, obviously missing Bruce's attempt to ease the tension. "I can't show up at work every two weeks and still make millions."

You could, Bruce thought but bit his tongue. They had gone down that path so many times already. True, he hadn't noticed how badly he had wanted Dick to take over Wayne Enterprises one day until he had told him about the police academy, but the blow had been a hard one nonetheless.

"I was just wondering," he chose to say instead, ignoring the last few sentences of their exchange, "because I think I saw something before I passed out."

"The BPD will surely ask you to give your testimony as soon as the doctor gives her ok." Dick was on the same page, but that didn't mean he was above glaring at him sulkily. "You made enough people angry with your latest business decisions, and the contract you signed here was probably the last straw."

Dick was right; Bruce had made some very controversial decisions concerning Gotham's environmental future, and many people were pissed. To be honest, he didn't believe in non-controversial decisions when it came to environmental sustainability anymore, and Bruce had been in business for a while now. The newspaper had never been more interested, and right now, with highest media coverage, a famous billionaire and a controversial act, an assassination attempt would make a good warning for the other enterprises.

More reason to find out who did it. If only he could manage to make sense out of the blurry pictures in his head...

"What did you see?" Dick asked when he realized that Bruce wasn't going to elaborate.

"I'm not sure, it's blurry and confusing. A dash of pink colour. Pink and brown."

"There's nothing pink on Williams Street," Dick mused. "I could check out if the other victims and witnesses were wearing something pink..."

Clothing? Yes. Associating to Dick's words, the image got clearer. Pink, a pink dress. "I think it was a pink dress. Go on talking."

Dick shot him a sour look. "A pink dress at night in Blüdhaven sounds like a prostitute. Usually Williams Street is not on their route, but maybe another guest of the hotel brought her. The brown colour could be her hair, or maybe a hand bag..."

Hand bag. Bruce had his eyes closed by now, fingers pressed against the lids. The fuzzy images wouldn't change, Dick was prattling on, thinking out loud, but Bruce's mind still clung to the idea. It hadn't been a hand bag, but the notion... carrying. Whoever wore that dress had been carrying something brownish.

"... hello?"

"What?" It came out harsher than he had intended it to, and Dick flinched slightly.

"Are you even listening?"

"I'm thinking."

An annoyed huff. "Listen, I don't want to interrupt your brooding, but if you neither listen nor talk with me, I can leave you alone. I can still change into the late shift and save my vacation day."

Dick wanted to get away, clearly. He would have sat down otherwise, instead of standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, not even close to the bed. A part of Bruce was disappointed, but he understood – the longer Dick stayed, the likelier they would end up arguing again. It was the reason they didn't visit each other anymore, barely phoned.

With guilt bubbling up in his chest, Bruce had to admit that he wanted to think about this blotch of pink and brown. He was a detective, he wasn't able to keep his distance from a mystery. Dick had never been one to sit silently and watch him think.

"You can leave if you want to," he said therefore.

Visibly, Dick relaxed. Ouch. "Yeah, well, call if you remember anything. You...you still have my number, don't you?"

"Yes." Of course he did. Dick thought he had deleted him from his phone?! "Why wouldn't I?"

"Uh, last time we... talked" – 'argued' was the word they both knew Dick wanted to use – "you said there's nothing left to talk about, so..."

That wasn't right. Bruce's parting words had been 'If that's your last word, I don't want to hear any more from you'. He knew because they still bothered him, still haunted him. To be fair, Dick had said some hurtful things, too. Very hurtful things, like 'I hate you' and 'I don't want to see you ever again'.

Bruce wondered if Dick remembered those too, and if they hurt him. Gosh, how did they ever come so far? Bruce didn't even remember what they had been arguing about so fiercely... that is, until Dick turned around to get his jacket, and Bruce saw a gun holster strapped to his belt.

Cold punched him right in the stomach. Dick froze, realizing his mistake in the same second.

"Bruce..."

"I told you not to wear that thing around me."

"I came straight from work."

"I taught you better than to use a gun."

"I'm a cop! It's part of my job!"

He told him he shouldn't even work with that thing, told him time and time again. Goddamnit, he should never be around a gun. Hadn't he seen the damage they could cause? Couldn't he see they were dangerous?!

"You will stop working with that thing."

Dick's gaze darkened. "You can't possibly believe that you can order me around like that."

They stared at each other wordlessly for a few seconds, both unrelenting in their stance, before Dick whirled around and stomped out of the room, cursing in Romani.

Bruce sighed. It happened again. Apparently they really couldn't talk for more than ten minutes without arguing. Yes, Bruce knew that he was a stubborn bastard who lacked any communication skills, but when it came to their arguments, the social, gentle and eloquent Richard Grayson wasn't so different from him.

He was staring at the door Dick had disappeared from and tried for the thousandth time to figure out what went wrong. Dick usually complained that Bruce didn't communicate his issues until it was too late. But if he did, he accused him of manipulation. Dick knew he wasn't good with words, and he knew he couldn't suppress his issues with guns. If Bruce told his son he'd use lines he hadn't checked properly, Dick would explode just like he did. Then again, he knew just as well that Dick's temper was more explosive than dynamite, and that he was stubborn and rude when it exploded.

He should have known better than to address the gun issue. Dick should have known better than to bring the gun. They had been going in circles for two years now, probably longer. Had there been a key moment Bruce had missed? No, he had missed more than a moment, he had missed Dick growing up. Just a moment ago, Dick had been a ten year old child with huge, curious blue eyes and a tendency to find high, dangerous places. Bruce had to smile when he thought about that tiny whirlwind that kept racing through the manor, never seen without Peanut, his –

Stuffed animal.

Dick, the stubborn idiot, only picked up on the third try.

"What!?"

"It was a teddy bear."

"...excuse me?"

"It was a little girl in a pink dress who was clutching her teddy bear."

The image was so clear and sharp in his mind that Bruce had problems understanding how he had not seen it. A little, raven-haired girl, not even ten. Ragged teddy bear. Frozen with fear.

"At the explosion site? Dear Lord."

"She was hiding behind the dumpster. You need to find her."

"Do you think she survived?"

"Possible, the dumpster might have protected her. Maybe she saw something."

"I'll keep you updated."

-the next day-

"Luisa Portis, nine years old, reported missing by her Mom two days ago. Her parents are in the middle of a divorce, and her abusive father has picked Luisa up from school, disregarding the restraining order. She has some bruises on her torso, so we think she ran away from home."

Bruce and Dick were both staring through the one-way mirror at the little girl that tried very hard not to cry. A cup of cocoa had been placed in front of her, but she wouldn't let go of her teddy to reach for it. There were thick bandages around her and her teddy's arms.

"She hasn't said a word yet, probably due to shock, and we haven't been able to reach her mother so far.."

"It's definitely her," Bruce murmured. "How did you find her?"

"She ran away after the explosion, but luckily someone found her and brought her to a hospital. Nightwing sent us her file tonight."

Bruce smiled, proud to see no reaction in his former ward's face when he talked about his alter ego. Whatever he might have said was cut short when two other police officers walked up to them. One of them was the guy who had interrogated Bruce a few hours earlier, before he had been called to identify the young witness.

"Mr. Wayne." Greg Willis nodded at him. "Officer Grayson told us she is the right girl. We will try to talk to her, but she will probably need a while to trust us enough to talk."

Mike Headson, Dick's boss, sighed and shook his head. "Even though we have a specialist for kids, this case will be tricky. She is scared anyway, and the explosion and the burns must have been a nightmare to her."

"Long story short, you don't need to stay," Dick finished, sending his guardian a dark look.

Bruce fought hard not to roll his eyes. Dick had been curt with him all day, obviously still upset with their never-ending argument. Bruce was too, but his focus was on the case now, and there was no time for childish disputes.

It was frustrating to be Bruce Wayne right now; as Batman he would have been able to solve the case already. The kid had surely seen someone, her doctor had told the police that she had tried to sleep behind that dumpster, but strange persons in front of the hotel had kept her awake. She had been too scared to try to run, and then things went to hell.

Sadly, he hadn't been allowed to leave the hospital until the police had needed him. He knew he had to thank Dick for asking specifically to interrogate him at the station, otherwise Willis would have just taken his statement in the hospital. Being the VIP guest he was in Blüdhaven, the hospital staff as well as the police officers were extremely attentive towards him, and there had been no chance to get away.

After his interview with Willis, he had been called to identify the girl Nightwing claimed to be involved, and found Dick in front of her room. He filled him in on her information – information Bruce actually had no right to know. They were working together again, though Dick was not above being petty with him. It was very annoying.

"I thought you weren't assigned to this case, Dick," he reminded him therefore, not missing the amused look Willis and Dick's boss shared.

Dick looked anything but amused. "I am now."

"I want to talk to her," Bruce said directly to Headson, ignoring Dick or any say he might have in this intentionally. He had absolutely no authority on that matter, but he wasn't going to let anyone talk to that girl who had no experience or knowledge. This was too important.

Headson and Willis exchanged another look. "Sorry, Mr. Wayne, but we can't let you -"

"Your children's specialist is not here, right? How long do you want her waiting in there, she's scared as hell. Your specialist can always take over once she finally arrives, in the meantime it might be good for the girl to see a familiar face."

Bruce had gripped the door handle already, signalling that he wouldn't take no as an answer. He knew how persuasive he was with only a few sentences, mixing the tiniest bit of Batman's authority with his natural bulk, and therefore he was surprised to see Headson and Willis looking at Dick for permission.

Dick's lips twitched a bit, and he shrugged. Bruce had the feeling that his son had warned them about his behaviour beforehand. But anyway, Headson nodded when there was no objection. He was not going to lose a good opportunity.

When he entered the room, Luisa looked up at him with big green eyes filled with terror. She clutched her teddy bear to her chest, and woah, she looked just like Dick had when he had seen the Manor for the first time.

Bruce had thought of her as a witness so far, but now he was reminded that this was also a scared little girl who had been through hell. While he sat down on the chair next to her, he tried to remember how he had dealt with Dick back then.

"Hey Luisa," he said lamely, because right, he hadn't dealt with Dick back then at all. Alfred had coaxed the boy out of his hiding places while Bruce had been busy signing documents and passing CPS tests. Oh, the irony.

Luisa didn't react.

"Do you remember me?" he asked, trying to take the harshness out of his voice. "I was there yesterday night, when the hotel exploded."

The girl flinched. Smooth, Wayne.

"Is that your teddy bear?"

No reaction whatsoever. Of course it was her teddy bear, idiot. Bruce noticed that he wasn't even smiling. Damn, for all he knew he was glaring at the poor girl.

"That's a pretty dress."

Big, scared green eyes. This wasn't working.

"Okay, Luisa, listen." Time for another approach, then. "This is a very serious matter, and I need you to pay attention, yes?" The girl didn't react, but Bruce decided to take that as a yes. "What happened yesterday night was very dangerous and hurt many people, and I know that you were there. What did you see before I arrived?"

Unconsciously, he had begun to lean towards Luisa, and he was now almost towering over her. Her large eyes started to fill with unshed tears. Oh, no no no.

Bruce was a loss. At a complete, utter loss. Being serious and honest had always worked with Dick, even when he had been barely older than Luisa and had had no idea about Batman. Bruce didn't understand why it wasn't working with the girl. Was he that scary? Unsympathetic? But Dick had found a direct connection, hadn't he? Even after he had seen a much more dramatic scene?

Dick is special, a voice in the back of his mind whispered. He couldn't expect the same from Luisa.

He redirected his attention to her, only to notice that even though she was still staring wide-eyed, her gaze had shifted a few milimetres, and now she was looking at –

Bruce turned around to the one-way mirror that by now was a simply glass pane and saw Dick looking firmly to the side, lips pursed as if he was whistling.

Strange.

"Luisa, listen, I..." he turned back to the girl, who flinched and looked at him when she heard her name. "I just need you to work with me, I can't do this alo- …." the big eyes of the girl had again shifted to the side, narrowly looking behind him.

He whirled around, saw a blur of movement and then Dick was again standing there innocently, arms crossed and looking to the side. This time, though, he slowly moved his gaze to look into the room, and when he realized that he was meeting Bruce's, he turned his head away sharply and coughed in false innocence.

Bruce felt like he was missing something.

Luisa, though, looked different, and there was no moisture in her eyes anymore. Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but just then Luisa gasped and Bruce saw the three red balls flying through the air.

Dick was juggling behind him.

Seeing that he was caught, Dick threw the balls into the air and dropped under the mirror frame with a faked, shocked expression, making sure Luisa and Bruce could still see how all of the three balls fell down on top of his head.

Aside from confusion, Bruce was livid. He was trying to get something out of this girl while Dick behind him was performing his stupid clown act and –

Luisa was suddenly giggling like mad. Dick was peering over the mirror frame cautiously, balancing a red ball on his head, and pearls of childish laughter were echoing through the room.

Mike Headson appeared on the left, a gentle smile on his lips, and motioned for Bruce to leave the room. Hesitatingly, confused, Bruce did as he was told, and opened the door to squeeze himself past his son, who was again juggling in fake concentration. Luisa was still laughing, but the sound was quieter in the hall as soon as the door was closed.

Headson smiled at him apologetically when Bruce moved to stand beside him. In the room, Dick had just managed to drop one of his juggling balls into the cocoa cup, making a wonderful mess on the table. Luisa was thrilled.

"He's the children's specialist, isn't he?" Bruce asked, not able to suppress a smile.

Dick had by now enchanted the girl. He was trying to convince her to give him her teddy so he could continue to juggle. Luisa shook her head frantically, but grinned at the same time.

"Ohh, you're right!" Dick said suddenly, excited. "You can't give your teddy to strangers. Well, I'm Richard, and who are you?" Luisa still didn't talk, so Dick fished the drenched file from the cocoa- soaked table and squinted his eyes. "Luisa Portis, yeah? That's a cool name, I bet your friends call you Lucy!"

The girl shook her head, and, to Bruce's utter amazement, opened her mouth: "Louie!"

"Ohhh, like Louie form the 'the jungle book', that's awesome. That's cooler than what my friends call me.." Luisa looked at him expectantly, so Dick went on. "You wanna know?"

Luisa nodded, and Dick looked around closely before slowly leaning over and whispering into her ear. The girl exploded in laughter, and Bruce was pretty sure that Dick hadn't made up anything.

"We thought you knew already," Headson said and shook his head in similar amazement. "You surely knew that he has a talent for kids."

Well, Dick did grew up in a circus, and had the best clowns and jugglers as teachers. As Robin, he had taken it to himself to care about the kids they encountered too, but Bruce always thought that was due to the colourful Robin costume. Batman, on the other hand, was hardly fit for dealing with children.

Bruce Wayne even less, it seemed. Not good with kids and apparently a bit sex prejudiced.

"To be fair, so far all our specialists that dealt with children were women," Headson amended as if reading his thoughts. "The first time he did his juggling trick with a kid, he used the donuts we brought for lunch and made a mess because one of them was filled with cream."

Bruce couldn't help but laugh. In the interrogation room, Luisa was chatting away happily, while Dick examined the bandages around the teddy's arms.

His hair was longer, Bruce realized suddenly. And he was the BPD's children's specialist? With a sad, melancholic sting, Bruce wondered what else had changed.

-later that day-

"Children's specialist?"

Dick stopped dead in his tracks, whirling around to the voice. "How did you get into my apartment?"

"I'm Bat-"

"-Batman. I know, stupid of me to ask."

They were standing in Dick's flat, awkwardly eyeing each other. Dick was still in uniform, a lot of cocoa spots adorning his shirt. Alfred would have a field day.

"Children's specialist?" Bruce asked again, crossing his arms in mock sulkiness.

Dick laughed lightly, a pleasant sound. It had been too long since he had heard it. "It's just another word for clown. And it's nothing official; they just call me when they have to deal with kids that won't cooperate."

"Everything worked out?"

"Yes, Louie told me everything she saw. The hotel concierge is involved, a team is looking for him right now. We've already got suspects."

Bruce nodded, pleased. This was good. The BPD would deal with it.

"What happens to Luisa now?"

"Oh, we found her mother. The father will be treated in a psychiatric clinic for a while, they need to change his medication. Something went wrong with his dosage."

"So they'll be alright."

Dick nodded absent-mindedly. Bruce mustered him, pride swelling in his chest. Without his son, they would have needed ages to get this little girl to talk.

Silence ensued again when there was nothing left to talk about the mission, and Bruce decided to play his trump card. "I bought pizza."

Dick looked at him, surprised at the sudden change in topic. Surprised, but definitely interested. Bruce walked into the kitchen to get plates and the pizza box. "Spicy meatballs with soy sauce, broccoli, peaches and gorgonzola, right?"

"You remembered?" Dick was leaning in the doorframe, grinning at the gruesome pizza Bruce had ordered. As if he could ever forget that creation. Every delivery service he had ever called had believed he was joking.

"Of course."

-fin-