Author's Note: This is a slightly irreverent little flash fic that readers of strong religious leanings may wish to skip.

Bruce Wayne was not much given to the trappings of religion. He accepted that there were things in the universe that even the most advanced alien sciences couldn't yet explain, but he saw no sense in attributing them to a mystical being for whose existence he had no hard evidence. People were free to believe what they wanted, of course, and he generally wished them no ill will so long as they didn't try to foist baseless hypotheses on him. During events like the one he'd been roped into tonight, however, his patience was always sorely tested.

Usually it would have been the Foundation's networking coordinator sitting in his chair, but she was on maternity leave and her deputy was tied up elsewhere. The Gotham Association for Gracious Amity's annual contributor dinner couldn't be ignored despite the short-staffing issue, though, so a plea had been sent up to Bruce's office. He had vacillated; while he wasinterested in the wellbeing of his charity, he wasn't interested in praying before he picked up his fork or in listening to speeches about man's god-given responsibilities towards other men. Only when Alfred had pointed out that it might help his social reputation, since he was expected to act more seriously now that there was a child in his house, had he finally agreed to attend.

Upon his arrival tonight he had learned that he was to be seated between two clergymen and across from the director of Association, who sported an expensive-looking cross and possessed a righteous simper that would have given a saint pause. That in and of itself might not have been such a bad thing – he'd had pleasant interactions with devout members of various faiths in the past – but the context of the evening caused his neighbors' conversation to turn again and again to faith, duty, and the glory of the divine. By the time dessert came around, Bruce was grinding his teeth so hard that he was amazed they were all still intact.

"But tell us, Mr. Wayne," the Association's head suddenly addressed him, "which church do you belong to? I'm always so curious to know how many different denominations our organization encompasses. I've scoured the papers trying to find out, but you've managed to keep it a secret all these years."

He should have told her that he was waiting to see if his new ward had a family history with any particular group before he settled on a congregation. He could have said that he meant no offense, but that he preferred to keep his spiritual relationships private. He might even have awarded the woman across from him one of his dangerously charming smiles and redirected the discussion to something else. But his nerves were worn thin, so instead he told them the bald truth. "I don't belong to any, madam. My beliefs are strictly secular in nature."

"Ah," the fellow to his left gave a wise little murmur. "I had thought as much."

"I don't see why you would have," the man on his right rebutted with a frown. "Mr. Wayne's charitable givings have always marked him out as a very godly figure in my accounting. I'm quite surprised to hear that you stand apart from the faithful, sir," he directed at Bruce. "There must be some way of rectifying this terrible error."

Not without a time machine, there isn't, he grimaced to himself. He wasn't certain that he'd possessed any religious leanings even before his parents' murders, but he figured that if any event could wipe faith in a benevolent, all-powerful being out of a child's mind it would be what he had witnessed that night. Not willing to dive into that topic with a group of total strangers, he did what he now realized he ought to have done at the start and kept his mouth shut.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne," his hostess leaned forward eagerly. "You must know in your heart of hearts that there is a source of goodness, of godliness, in this world that works to counter the bad? You simply must," she insisted with a coaxing smile. "You're here with us, after all, and that puts you on the side of benevolence."

"Surely you've seen enough terrible things in your life to convince you that there is a war going on at all times," came from his left. "You and that boy you've taken in, both."

Leave Dick out of this, he bit back a growl. "A war?" he repeated slowly. "…Yes. You're right about that; there is a war going on at all times, and I like to think I'm on the good side of it. But," he overrode the self-satisfied looks forming on three sides of him, "I've never felt that belief in a supernatural source of evil was necessary for that to be the case. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness there is." He pushed his chair back in the stunned silence that followed that statement. "If you'll excuse me," he smiled, "I think I'll get another piece of cake. Angel food, isn't it? It's very good. Would anyone else like more?" He waited a moment. "…No? Okay, then."

"Well I never," a feminine lament reached his ears as he walked away. "For such a fine-seeming man to hold such unsavory views…that poor child…"

He didn't know whether she was referring to him or Dick, but it didn't matter. The cake was a lie, and he had no intention of returning to the table so that they could continue to try and show him the error of his ways. Decorum had been fulfilled for the evening, and even if the Association's head was scandalized there was little she could do about it if she wanted to keep receiving Foundation money. All was well.

But in the future, he smirked as he waited for his coat, only an act of God would get him to attend an event such as this one had been.

A/N, con't: This story was inspired by the Joseph Conrad quote "the belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness" from 'Under Western Eyes'. Happy reading!