Bruce Wayne was an odd man. Harleen had realized it the first time she'd seen him on T.V. The smile was false, and she could see it in his eyes, the longing to be anywhere but in front of the camera. No one else seemed to notice it. He had charm, and a charisma that drew people to him. Everyone wanted to shake hands with him, and he was always in the news.

At least he had been until recently. With the adoption of one Richard Grayson, the billionaire hadn't stepped out as much lately. There'd been more than a few articles inquiring about his adoption of the boy.

Harleen had been on her way to Arkham, when she'd received a last-minute request for a special client. She was a recent graduate, smart, with excellent recommendations, and she couldn't help but wonder why she'd been chosen in those first few days.

There were plenty of excellent therapists within Gotham. High profile therapists. Ones that would have costs hundreds per hour, and would have groveled for the job. She found out rather quickly that they had indeed, tried those people first. But Dick had refused to speak. That was when Mr. Pennyworth had sought her out. She was younger, and Dick had claimed she seemed nice when looking through profiles.

The job at Arkham wasn't going anywhere, so she had stayed, almost certain that after three sessions the boy would open up, and the butler would insist on switching. She'd been half right, Dick had opened up. He came in with a smile, and talked the entire hour. The boy was smart, and clever, and so sweet Harleen just wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap and ensure his safety.

After two months, her schedule became fuller. More and more people were seeking out the same therapist as Bruce Wayne's adopted son. Apparently, Mr. Pennyworth had been very complimentary about her skills. She could have done without it in all honesty. She liked working with Dick because he was honest, and down to earth. Many of her other patients were spoiled, and fishing for information. Harleen had perfected, what she liked to call her bull shit smile, in a matter of days. It reminded her of the one Bruce Wayne put on.

She was curious about the billionaire. He was hiding something, and not just who he was sleeping with. A billionaire playboy, with enough money to buy the world, didn't just adopt an eight-year-old boy. Eight year olds were known for being cock blockers. And if Bruce Wayne was who he appeared to be on the surface, she doubted he'd had even glanced in the boy's direction. She needed to know more.

Dick was reluctant to talk about him at first, and she hadn't pressured him. He's started talking about him on his own. "He's a lot like me Harleen. His parents died when he was eight too. Alfred says he's a recluse. He's scared to let people get close. He started pushing me away too. He's been working a lot of late nights, and early mornings."

Harleen had listened quietly, before reassuring Dick it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with being scared. When he'd brought up Bruce's panic attacks, she had taught him ways to calm down. It had hit her late one night, that she was treating Bruce Wayne long distance. She'd laughed for five minutes straight.

Still, if Dick was to have a healthy childhood, Bruce Wayne needed to be involved. One didn't take in a child without accepting responsibility for said child. It was time to man up. So finally, she had confronted Mr. Pennyworth. She had approached him with a fierceness she didn't realize she had, and plainly stated, "I'll be dropping by this Saturday to speak to Mr. Wayne. You can expect me at eleven."

The butler had quirked a smile and simply said, "Of course Ms. Quinn. I'll prepare lunch. Is chicken salad acceptable."

"More than." And as she had walked away, Harleen couldn't help but feel that she was being played.

She'd arrived promptly, and had been welcomed with a smile from Mr. Pennyworth, and a child's squeals from upstairs. She hadn't even asked permission, before taking the stairs two at a time and following the laughter down the hallway. What she had found, made her smile. The pillow fight was one of dreams, and reminded her of something in a movie. Father and son both smiling while hitting each other with pillows.

She hadn't been able to help herself. She'd simply picked up one of the discarded pillows and swung. She'd made contact with Bruce Wayne's head. She'd met his surprised gaze head on, tossed a smile at Dick, stuck her hand out, and said, "Dr. Harleen Quinzell, it's nice to finally meet you Bruce."

Bruce stared at the woman for a minute, before reaching out and accepting her hand. This of course left him open to another attack, and before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he was being attacked from both sides.

Minutes later the three of them had landed on the floor in a pile of laughter, only to be interrupted by a clearing of a throat. One look at Alfred told Bruce that he'd never live this moment down. Alfred would bring this up for years to come, and probably even mention it in his will.

"Lunch will soon be ready. Dr. Quinzel, Master Dick if you would follow me to the dining area we'll leave Master Bruce to get ready."

Before Bruce could say anything, Dick was pulling the doctor up and down the hallway. Glancing at Alfred, he asked, "Are you sure she's a doctor?"

Alfred's smirk was telling, "Certain Master Bruce. But, do please remember, this woman is Master Dick's therapist. She is not a new toy."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "I've been better."

"Only because you've been a recluse. Drowning yourself in work, neglecting responsibilities."

"Alfred . . ."

"One night is only the start Master Bruce. I'm looking to make it a pattern."

Bruce watched the butler go. He changed into a more casual outfit of slacks, and a button down before heading downstairs. Dr. Quinzel and Dick were seated on the outdoor patio, and Dick was talking enthusiastically.

Sitting down, Bruce listened as Dick talked about his week at school. It was near the end of the year, and in another month summer vacation would start. "And what about Rodney?" Dr. Quinzel asked when Dick finally stopped for a breath.

The shift in the atmosphere was clear and abrupt. Bruce's eyes slid to the boy, his face had become a blank slate; closed off. The smile never faded from the doctor's face, "That good hunh?"

Dick shrugged, "It's not so bad. I stay under his radar in the halls, and I sit near the front in class. It doesn't leave him many opportunities to get close."
"Is he still using derogatory terms?"

Bruce's brow knitted together, as he watched Dick shrug, "Not to my face, but I hear the whispers."

Bruce studied the doctor as she talked to Dick, coaxing him out of his sullen mood, while building him up. The anger was there, it was hidden, but it was there. Within no time Dick was back to his usual self. He talked all through lunch, asking questions, and sharing stories about the circus.

As Bruce listened he realized exactly how much he didn't know. He knew about Dick's health, grades, extracurriculars, and his past; but he didn't know anything personal. He didn't know the little stories from his childhood, or how he loved history and math.

And as Dick ran off to help Alfred with something, he knew he was about to get a dressing down. He expected anger the minute the boy left. Instead he watched as the doctor leaned back in her seat, and said, "It's a big adjustment."

Bruce didn't respond, and as she turned to smile at him, he realized she didn't expect a response, "Going from a billionaire playboy to a full time father, I mean. It can't be easy."

Immediately Bruce went on edge. People were always trying to get close to him; for power, or money, or a number of other things. And for a minute he entertained the thought that Dr. Quinzel was like the rest of them. Then that pretty smile faded and she unleashed hell like he had never seen.

"You didn't know any of it, did you Mr. Wayne? That he's being bullied? That student's are calling him derogatory names because of his heritage? Or that they're teasing him for being a charity case? And if you don't think he realizes that you're avoiding him then you're an idiot. And you certainly shouldn't be in charge of a multi billion dollar corporation! That boy needs you, Mr. Wayne. He needs a family, and the minute you adopted him, you became his family. That means you need to pull your head out of your ass, and step the hell up."

By the time, she was done Harleen Quinzel's breathing was ragged. And as minutes of silence creeped by she realized exactly what she'd just done. She had raged at one of the richest men in Gotham, a man that could end her career with a word. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to be sorry.

She'd watched Bruce Wayne while Dick had talked. The man didn't have a clue. It was a shame really. Underneath the childhood trauma, laid a man with a lot of love to give. But he was so scared of getting hurt, or losing someone that he had closed himself off. If Dick stood a chance at a normal childhood, of growing up loved, Bruce Wayne was going to have to face things head on. He was going to have to grow up.

So, she stood there, waiting for the yelling to start. Instead she got laughter. The laughter died off a moment later, and she watched as he scrubbed his hands against his face, "Two lectures within twenty four hours. I expected it from Alfred . . .not you."

She raised an eyebrow, "And why not."

He shrugged, "People haven't been able to read me since I was a kid. When you're in the spotlight enough you learn how to be someone else."

"That bull shit smile isn't as convincing as you think, Mr. Wayne."

"Mr. Wayne?"

"I'll call you Mr. Wayne until you start acting your age, and being the parent Dick deserves."

"I'm not his father."

"You're the closest thing he has."

"You can't just replace a person's parents."

"No one said you had to. I said you had to be a parent, someone who is there for Dick and looking out for his well being. That means actually getting to know him, and realizing when something is wrong. If you keep shutting yourself away, you'll grow old and very alone Mr. Wayne. And in my opinion that's not a good way to live."

Bruce said nothing. He simply sat in silence with Dr. Quinzel until Dick and Alfred came back out.