Author's Note: I'm writing this story for NaNoWriMo. That means that I hope I will be able to get it to 50k and finished within the month and that I'll only be able to post updates if I'm at my word goal and have the time to edit the chapter before I post it. So, read at your own risk! If the sparse editing, you may want to think about waiting until December when I can take my time editing it.

Also, there will be pairings in this fic, and the rating will most likely go way up by chapter three. The pairings are planned to be Jason Todd / Tim Drake with hints of Bruce Wayne / Selina Kyle and Barbara Gordon / Richard Grayson. If those pairings are counter to your interests, please keep that in mind.

Barbara looked out over the sparsely filled lecture hall in front of her. It was one of the smaller ones available on the Hudson University campus, but it was still more than enough room for her purposes. Seated in the deep red upholstered chairs were only six people. They were spread out haphazardly in the seats of the gently sloping room.

Seated in the front row was Bruce Wayne, the man that had made possible the reason that they were all gathered together. He was seated slightly to her right, his thickly muscled arms crossed defensively over his chest. He was staring blankly at the white screen that was dropped down behind her, his expression closed off and uninviting.

Seated a few rows behind him was Selina Kyle. Her short black hair styled and feathered and very fashionable. Her shirt was tight and black and showed just enough of her pale skin. She had painted her eyes with thick black eyeliner in the cat eye style and cherry red lipstick pulled into a slight smile as she glanced around the room, obviously inviting anyone to come up and speak to her.

Farther back and to the left was Richard Grayson. He was similarly friendly in expression and body language. He was wearing a thick dark blue sweater, his face loose and relaxed as he alternated between smiling at Barbara and looking around at the other people seated in the auditorium. His hair was a little longer than the picture Barbara had of him sitting in a file folder in her office. It curled around his ears and at the base of his neck, naturally dark and curly.

To the right of Richard was Jason Todd, looking sullen and uninterested. He was slouched low in his seat, his head down and his phone out, bright in the low light of the auditorium. The white streak in his hair stood out stark among his dark hair and pale skin. He was huddled down into a worn and battered leather jacket and was wearing a t-shirt with some kind of logo or print on it, but she couldn't make it out.

Behind him, were the two students that she had enlisted: Timothy Drake and Stephanie Brown. They were sitting side by side in the middle of the auditorium, behind everyone else with their heads bent together. She had occasion to meet and work with the two of them before and was glad to see the two of them there, although she wished they had sat closer. Tim had his dark hair brushed off his forehead and was wearing a dark shirt under a plaid long sleeve shirt. The way she could see his leg jumping, Barbara could tell he was impatient for the orientation to begin.

Stephanie, sitting beside him, made a nice picture in a red and dark blue polka dot blouse, her blond hair tied in pigtails behind her ears. She had a stylus tucked behind her ear and seemed to be setting up notes on her tablet, a habit Barbara knew she often employed.

This was her group. The people she would be taking with her on the one adventure that might make her career. Barbara didn't know whether to be ecstatic or to start crying.

"Thank you, all of you, for coming," Barbara said loudly, her voice carrying through the hall easily, the walls and ceiling of the auditorium built with acoustics in mind.

Among her audience she noticed the shifts of attention. Bruce's eyes focused on her, as did everyone else's. The smile dropped off of Selina's painted lips while a smile came to Dick's. Jason put away his phone and Stephanie put away her tablet.

"If you don't mind, now that everyone is here, I'll get started on the orientation for the paranormal investigation of Wayne Manor," Barbara said. She took a deep breath, her chest expanding as she did so. "Tim, if you could please hit the lights?" Barbara asked.

Barbara turned toward the large white screen behind her as Tim moved to the projector in the middle of the room and turned off the lights before flipping to the first slide, an exterior shot of Wayne Manor as it appeared shortly after being built.

On the screen, a huge jacobethan style building rose in grainy gradations of black and white. Its tall windows stood out against every surface of the building, its exterior a red brown rock and topped with sharp spires before a slate roof. In the picture, the serving staff were lined up in matching suits and dresses of black and white in front of the steps of the manor. Two men in bowler hats and a beautifully dressed woman in white with perfectly coifed hair in front of them.

"Wayne Manor was built from 1852 to 1854 by Allen Wayne and his wife Catherine van Derm," Barbara explained, her eyes still regarding the image behind her. "The building was originally designed by Allen's father, Solomon Wayne. He had moved the Wayne family from Boston to Gotham to take an opening as a judge when Allen was just a boy, but died of heart failure before he could complete plans to build Wayne Manor. When his son, now an architect, married, he brought his father's ideas and designs to life in the form of Wayne Manor."

"But, there were problems," a male voice rang out from the audience.

Barbara turned to scan the crowd and followed the direction of eyes back to Jason Todd. He was staring unflinchingly back at her.

"That's correct," she said slowly. "Even before Wayne Manor was built, it started to wrack up deaths. Three men died during the construction of Wayne Manor. One man choked on a piece of apple. A second man was beheaded by a piece of falling glass." Barbara paused, turning back to the screen and clicking a small button on the remote in her hand to switch the slide. A face appeared on the screen, old and black and white like the one before it. The man in the picture was roughed up, with a bruised cheek and disheveled hair and clothes. He stared back out of his picture with an expression of confusion and disorientation.

"John O'Malley, the man shown here, confessed to police that he beat his foreman to death with a hammer in the middle of his shift over a pay dispute. This confession was corroborated by multiple eyewitnesses. The foreman's name was Earnest Pchulzki. He was the third man to die on the ground which would later become Wayne Manor."

"The fourth," another male voice rang out, this one familiar. Barbara looked down at Bruce, his face impassive as he stared at the blown up image of John O'Malley on the screen. "The first person to die on the ground that would later become Wayne Manor was Joshua Wayne. He was working as a spy for the Union during the Civil War. He was looking at the ground for his brother, Solomon Wayne, when he was attacked by a confederate supporter. He was stabbed and bled out before he could get to help."

The room was silent for a moment in the wake of that statement until Selina leaned forward excitedly, a smile stretching across her face. "Oh. My. God. Are you Bruce Wayne?" she asked, the inflection in her voice implying that she was about two seconds from bouncing into Bruce's lap with a wink and a pur.

"Mr. Wayne has asked to attend this orientation," Bruce quickly explained. "He has been kind enough to allow us unfettered access to his family's home, something that hasn't been allowed for almost two decades. I hope his presence won't be any detriment to this orientation." She hoped that it went unsaid that his presence wasn't an invitation to bother him.

She was pleased to hear a chorus of somber agreement. Selina fell back into her seat with a disappointed pout, but continued to regard the back of Bruce's head with a curious stare.

"As I was saying, Wayne Manor was already building its own history before it was even built. It had four deaths already soaking the grounds it was to stand on. When Allen and Catherine Wayne finally moved in during the summer of 1854, Wayne Manor already had a head start building its legacy," Barbara continued.

She clicked the button and the slide changed to a closer shot of Allen and Catherine Wayne standing on the steps of Wayne Manor. Allen Wayne was a tall thin man with a large mustache which was fashionable during that time. Catherine was dressed in an airy, but ornate white dress. Her hair was curled, coifed and piled on top of her head, topped with a small white hat garnished in tulle. Her hair was a middling gray in the black and white photo, but Barbara knew from paintings she had found of Catherine Van Derm that her hair color was closer to her own, a deep orange red.

"Allen Wayne is credited as one of the men who helped build Gotham into the great city that it is today. He was an architect and many of the historical buildings making up the business district can be attributed to him. After he made a name for himself as an architect, he began work on finishing his father's dream home," Barbara explained, pacing to one end of the stage and back to her podium.

"What you won't be reading about in the same brochures that tout Allen Wayne's architectural contributions to the Gotham skyline is that he suffered from numerous mental disorders during his short lifetime. Historians working with psychologists reading over Catherine's journals, which she kept all her life, have posthumously diagnosed Allen Wayne with anxiety, depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. He may also have been suffering from delusions which led him to believe that Wayne Manor was filled with ghosts and evil spirits, some of whom had it out for him. They may have been delusions or they may not have," Barbara said, turning to give a significant look to her audience.

Barbara pressed her button and the slide changed to another picture of Allen and Catherine Wayne, Allen looking a little older and Catherine smiling a little wider. Standing in front of them were two children. A boy in short pants staring somberly at the camera and a little girl with dark hair in pigtails.

"In 1856, Catherine gave birth to their son Kenneth Wayne. In 1859, she gave birth to their daughter, Lucy Wayne. Allen was insistent that both their children be schooled away from the Wayne Manor, but Catherine Wayne absolutely disagreed. Until, in 1870, when Lucy Wayne turned up dead."

Another click, another slide. This one depicted a group of uniformed policemen walking in a line across a large perfectly manicured lawn and all of them looking down at the ground at their feet as they walked. A babbling fountain was in the foreground.

"In April of 1870, Lucy Wayne was playing in the garden with her nursemaid, Molly Hotch. In Molly's written statement to police, she swears that she took her eyes away from Lucy for only two or three minutes to talk to a passing cook. When she turned back, the little girl was gone. The entire grounds were combed by police and the serving staff alike. The maid was questioned by police for days in an interrogation that would be considered unconstitutional by today's standards. Nobody found anything. Until ..."

Click. The image of a little girl in dark pigtails floating face down in the same fountain appearing in the previous slide came up on the screen. Lush water lilies floated around her and the sun glinted off the water. The lecture hall was deathly quiet in the wake of that slide.

"Lucy Wayne was found floating face down in the backyard fountain three days after her disappearance. She was wearing the same clothes that she went missing in. A coroner found water in her lungs and stomach. Her cause of death was determined to be drowning."

Barbara stared up at the image soberly for a long moment. Then, she pressed the button and moved on to the next image. Now, the Wayne family was dressed in a somber black, the remaining three of them staring morosely at a terribly small coffin standing in an array of flower wreaths and arrangements.

"In the aftermath of Lucy's death, Catherine acquiesced to Allen's demands to send Kenneth away. Kenneth was subsequently sent to England to a boarding school. Catherine recounts unbearable sadness in the wake of her daughter's death. She also recounts her husband's steady decline into depression and madness. By September of 1873, Allen Wayne was dead."

The next slide appeared of a very different funeral. This time the coffin was bigger and the attendance was even larger. Mostly men in sharply cut suits, but also women dressed somberly in high necked tight black dresses clutching handkerchiefs in the black gloved hands.

"The official cause of death was 'misadventure', but Catherine's diary makes it very clear that Allen hung himself from the parlor ceiling with a noose he fashioned himself," Barbara said dryly. Smiling stiffly, she turned back to the few people sitting in the chairs facing her. "An auspicious start to an auspicious family."

"Catherine Wayne continued to live in the house until her own mysterious disappearance in 1920. A maid recounts seeing Mrs. Wayne in the main hallway making her way toward the back of the house. She wished her a good morning, but Mrs. Wayne didn't seem to hear her and continued on her way. She was never seen again," Barbara concluded gravely.

A nervous laugh broke through the uncomfortable silence. Barbara followed the sound and made eye contact with a nervous looking Dick Grayson. "You're kidding, right?" he laughed. "This sounds like something out of a campfire ghost story."

"I'm completely serious," Barbara responded with a smile. "Lucy's mysterious death and her mother's even more mysterious disappearance are all publicly available information. Allen Wayne's death is at first unremarkable, until one gains access to Catherine's diary, which I can make available to any of you should you wish to read it."

"I may take you up on that," Bruce rumbled from his place near the front.

Barbara acknowledged him with a stiff nod. She cleared her throat and hit the button to bring up the next slide.

"Kenneth Wayne wouldn't live in the Manor after what happened to his parents and sibling there. But, he did allow his wife, Laura, to use it to host parties and the occasional seance," she explained.

The image on the screen was of a group of people holding hands around a table. In the middle of the table was a stereotypical crystal ball. The woman at the far end of the table from the photographer had her head thrown back and from her mouth seemed to emanate a strange white smoke.

"Wayne Manor soon began to become something of a psychic hotspot. Paranormal researchers the world over made requests to investigate the Manor, but only the most prestigious were given permission. It became something of a legend among the paranormal community for consistently producing paranormal results."

"That must make this investigation something of a dream come true for you, Ms. Gordon," Selina purred, leaning forward over the edge of the seat in front of her.

Barbara struggled to pull her mouth out of a sneer and into a pleasant smile. "Unfortunately, Wayne Manor has been left inactive and uninvestigated for decades," Barbara sighed. "There has been no observable phenomena in Wayne Manor for years upon years."

"Then, why are we going?" Jason asked, exasperation clear in his voice.

"She's hoping we'll wake it up," a quiet voice answered from the back. Everyone shifted in their seats to look back at Tim, small but unflinching. "In the previous paranormal investigations, the conditions for success were to bring along a reputed psychic of some degree. When the house is provided with a psychic it can speak to and drawn energy from, it reacts. The last few investigations didn't render results, even with reputable psychics along. She's hoping if she brings enough of us, one of us will be what it needs."

There was a pause as everyone continued to stare at Tim and he stared impassively back.

"That's exactly right, Tim," Barbara said, drawing the attention back to her. "The five of you consist of five distinctly different kinds of psychics. I'm hoping that if all of you participate in this investigation, Wayne Manor will find what it needs to wake up in one of you."

"That doesn't sound ominous," Stephanie muttered from the fringe of the group.

Barbara pointedly ignored her. "All of you are professionals who have participated in investigations before, so I won't bore you with the run down of different tests and equipment that I will be bringing along. Suffice it to say that we'll be running the gambit with this one. Does anyone have any questions about the investigation specifically?" Barbara asked.

A few hands went up. Dick, Tim and Selina slowly raising their hands. Before Barbara could take any of their questions, a voice rang out from the back of the hall.

"I have a question for Mr. Wayne!" an unfamiliar female voice said. Looking toward the back, over the craning heads of the other participants, Barbara saw a woman in dark wash tight jeans, pale pink blouse, and bottle red hair swishing over her shoulders. Vicki Vale had a notepad and pen in her hands and a press badge swinging from her neck.

"Ms. Vale," Barbara said tightly. "This is a closed meeting. I've told you before on the phone that I won't comment on anything for you."

"Just one question!" Vicki called back, walking briskly up the middle aisle. Everyone turned to look at Vicki with the exception of Bruce, who sat with his eyes closed and a put upon expression on his face. "Mr. Wayne, is it true that you're planning to bulldoze the stately Wayne Manor after this investigation is concluded?"

Bruce slowly stood up and turned to face Vicki, who was standing several rows behind him her pen poised over her notebook as if she honestly believed she would get a statement from Bruce.

"Ms. Vale, I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Bruce responded to her evenly, giving her a baleful stare.

"Reliable sources confirm that estimates have been provided as to the cost and time that would be involved to destroy Wayne Manor," Vicki continued, ignoring Bruce's response. "That makes the sudden planning of this investigation very meaningful. Especially when you consider that there hasn't been a paranormal investigation of Wayne Manor since before you were born."

"Ms. Vale," Barbara said sharply, her hands settling on her hips unconsciously. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This is obviously harassment."

The only indication that Vicki had heard Barbara at all was the slight twitch of her carefully sculpted eyebrows.

"Mr. Wayne, what do you expect this investigation of Wayne Manor to find? Ghosts? Ghosts of some specific people, maybe?" she asked sharply.

Bruce's thick eyebrows came down over his eyes, his expression shuttering completely. His long legs ate up the distance between himself and Vicki as he strode around the chairs and down the center aisle toward her. "Vicki, please stop while you're ahead," he said quietly. Barbara wouldn't have heard him if not for the pervading silence in the room.

"Maybe the ghosts you're looking for belong to some long dead philanthropists?" Vicki spat, emotion and vitriol clear in her voice. "Maybe your parents?"

"Ms. Vale!" Bruce's voice boomed across the lecture hall, making everyone jump and Vicki freeze with her mouth still open. "That is quite enough," Bruce said. "If I could please speak to you outside," he continued, taking Vicki gently by the elbow, a stark contrast to the obvious anger in his voice.

Bruce walked Vicki to the exit in the back of the hall, everyone silent as they left. The exit doors were loud as they slammed shut behind them.

Barbara could hear as well as see the people remaining in the lecture hall shuffle nervously as they glanced back and forth between the exit Bruce and Vicki had just left through and Barbara, still standing stiffly on the stage. Barbara sighed audibly through the mic and all eyes swiveled toward her.

"I'm sure Mr. Wayne can handle Ms. Vale. Now, your questions?" she asked as pleasantly as she could manage.