Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You fucking bitch!”

“Boys, boys, is that anyway to speak to a lady?”

“I’ll fucking killing you! You goddamn who-” The words cut off into muffled curses as Rachel pressed a long piece of duct tape across the man's lips. His disgruntled glare turned into pure fury and indignation as she gave him a sharp pat on the cheek with blue striped gloves.  

“I miss the old school mobsters. Maroni and Falcone were dicks but at least they had class”. She looked around the looted warehouse, nose wrinkling at the smell of raw sewage which dripped from a burst pipe in the corner. “Better taste in super secret villain lairs too”. The other henchman she had tied up snorted from where he sat next to his gagged partner. Smart enough not to say anything until now.

“Yeah, well this ain’t Gotham sweetheart. In Bludhaven you get what you pay for.” She moved to kneel in front of him and quirked her head to the side.

“And I’m guessing Blockbuster doesn’t pay much?” He snorted again.

“Nice try, but I’ve dealt with the Bats before. Enough to know that nothing good comes from telling you lot anything.” The words mixed with the harsh Gotham accent confirmed what she had already guessed, that he was a transplant from up North. “You want my advice girly, pack your bags and run home to Gotham where it’s safe.” It was Rachel’s turn to laugh, as she took a seat in front of the guy.

“I’ve never heard anyone refer to Gotham as safe.” He shrugged, his tied hands just barely allowing his shoulders to move up with the movement.

“The way I see’s it, our hometown may have a few crazies that run loose every once in a while. Might cause a day or week of chaos before they're round up. But I don’t think there’s anything worse than a sane man looking for a profit. Those are the people you really got to look out for.”

“And is that what Blockbuster is? A sane man looking for a profit.” The henchman gave her a small smile but didn’t answer the question. She let out a heavy sigh in annoyance and stood up as the distant sounds of police sirens came nearer. A month of digging and all she had gotten when it came to Bludhaven’s underground was an infuriatingly nondescript name. “Well, since you and your buddy aren't giving me any answers I guess I’ll just have to keep messing up his shipments until Blockbuster comes out and says hi to me himself.” The man shook his head, smiling at her like she was a child.

“Like I said, go home, save yourself the trouble. This is one stone you don’t want to turn.” Pulling out her grappling hook Rachel raised an eyebrow at him as if in challenge.

“I’ll take my chances”. Firing up in the rafters she pulled herself out of view as the warehouse doors opened and a handful of cups waltzed in. The gagged man started struggling and pulling at his binds, but the one who had talked to Rachel simply gazed forward, as though resigned. One of the cops, a large red haired man in his late 40’s detached himself from the squadron and walked over to the tied up men. Pulling the tape of the one man’s mouth the cop glared down cooly at him.

“Speak.”

“It was the broad! That fucking hero again. She took down our guys and fucking blitzed the cargo.” The cop let out a muffled curse as he slowly pulled his pistol out of his holder. The frenzied man who called Rachel a bitch didn’t notice, but she could see his partner track the movements slowly. Again not saying a word.

“The others?” 

“Fuck if I know. Probably tied up outside, we didn’t hear anything until she came swooping in out of nowhere-”

*BANG*

Rachel felt her whole body jolt at the sound and went to jump down before a firm mechanical voice stopped her.

“Don’t.” Years of deference caused her to freeze, her body trained to obey the other woman’s orders but she frowned as she whispered back at the voice.

“O, they shot a man.”

“There’s six of them inside with you, and another ten waiting outside. BPD is already breathing down your neck, don’t give them the opportunity to fire at it.” The reasoning was solid but rubbed Rachel the wrong way regardless. The other man who had spoken to Rachel did not flinch and said nothing as the corpse of his partner fell over onto him. The rest of the cops gazed around at the ceiling, as though expecting her to come jumping in. When they didn’t their captain put his gun back into his holster.

“McKinley was a fucking moron, bastard ran out on the last three drops we gave him. You're smarter than that Griffin which is why I am not painting the walls with your brain matter. You drop the ball again; neither me or him is going to be as forgiving. You got me?” The man, ‘Griffin’,  gave a sharp nod and the cop untied his binds. “Good. Cleanup this mess, then get out of my fucking sight”.

Silently Rachel slipped out of the warehouse and onto the roof, peering over the edge just enough to see that Oracle had been right, unsurprisingly, and an additional squadron was waiting outside, guns trained on the entrance. Turning her back to them she ran towards the opposite end of the roof, inertia giving her the leverage to clear the edge and make it to the building parallel. She allowed the surprisingly warm October air wash over her as she ran deeper into downtown Bludhaven.

“I didn’t like that.” The words weren’t accusatory but Oracle hummed back at them with regret.

“I know.” Twelve busts in four weeks and each of them had ended the same way. Zero arrests and a handful of corpses decomposing in BPD’s morgue with “Suicide’ marked as the cause of death. Rachel had expected corruption when moving to Bludhaven, had been betting on it even, but hadn’t thought it would be like this. 

“You get any useful information while I was in there?” Rachel heard Oracle type quickly on her computer keys for a moment before responding.

“Daniel Griffin; Age 32, born in Gotham and served about 10 years in Blackgate for a drug trafficking and battery charge. Was a member of White Shark’s crew before B took them all out just before your time. Moved to Bludhaven last year without notifying his parole officer. No family or known affiliates.”

“Yeah, outside of Blockbuster.” Oracle made a noise of agreement.

“Our mystery man. Still no leads on his actual name. The man who shot the previously unnamed ‘McKinley’ is Officer Anderson. I’ll do some digging but I’m going to bet the buck stops at Chief Redhorn.” 

“Who we already know is working for Blockbuster” Slowing down Rachel walked over to the ledge of the building she was currently on and sat down. Letting her legs dangle over the several story drop under her. 

Gotham's air was pungent and bitter and tainted but it was never heavy. There always seemed to be a crisp chill following after her on patrol as Robin. But everything in Bludhaven felt sticky, humid and suffocating. Like a blanket was pressing upon them from up above, not relinquishing its hold until all the oxygen evaporated, leaving the city's occupants to flounder like fish on dry land. Waiting for their inevitable death.

Rachel wondered not for the first time if she had made the right choice.

“Any luck on the compound found at the bust on Harrison street?”

“Yes actually, Star Labs sent in confirmation that we’re looking at Thorium. While dangerous on its own, I’m more concerned with its application when combined with the other chemicals we found.”

“You think their making a bomb?”

“I think they’re making something .” Rachel let out another sigh and rubbed at the bridge of her nose, her fingers catching slightly on the edges of her mask. “Regretting the move yet?” Because it was Babs she laughed, had it been one of her brothers her hackles would have raised defensively immediately. 

“I just didn’t expect so much so soon.” She also didn’t expect a police department that labeled her a dangerous vigilante and a community wary of being saved. She hadn’t expected patrols with no one but O to rely on, fights without backups. She hadn’t expected feeling this alone.

And she hadn’t expected to like it anyway.

It sucked. It kind of really sucked not having a partner, or a schedule or someone to tell her what to do. At Spyral she had Tiger and Matron, before that she had Bruce, Damian, Alfred and about a hundred other peoples. Here she just had herself. It was liberating in a way. Incredibly, unbelievably, freeing. To just be her, to not have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. To make her own decisions and not have to explain them every step of the way.

There was Barbara of course. But the invisible hand of her friend had always felt like yet another tool in her belt opposed to a shadow over her shoulder. Besides, Oracle was running teams from Gotham all the way to Hong Kong where Cass had currently run off too. She couldn’t be there for Rachel all the time and that was freeing too. Oracles voice came through her comms again, this time lacking any of the mechanical edge she used to mask it.

“You know, Gotham's only an hour and half drive away. 45 minutes if you follow the ‘Spoiler School of Driving”. Rachel looked over the skyline in front of her, one that was still new but slowly getting more familiar.

“I’ll be home for family dinner.” Something that had fallen off the last couple years but that had been reinstated with vigor by Bruce when she had come back from Spyral.

“Dinner is important.” Oracle agreed neutrally. “But if you ever find you’d like more than just a voice in your ear I’m sure one of your brothers would-”

“I’m good Oracle. Thank you though.” The words weren’t sharp but Rachel still felt a little guilty saying them. It wasn’t that things were bad with her family. In fact things were inconceivably good. But it still felt important not to lean on them for help, especially not this early on. Any trip ups she came across could be chalked up to the quirks of a new city. She wanted to have time to sort it out for herself. She wanted to prove she could do it on her own.

Besides, there wasn’t really a crisis to be called on.

Blockbuster was an enigma that she was sure would soon become a threat. But right now he was just a name. Rachel was a detective, she needed more than that before she could act.

“Speak of the devil…” Rachel narrowed her eyes at the words.

“Which devil?”

“Batman has been calling after you… Incessantly… All night actually since he knows I’ve been helping you.” Despite her fondness for the man Rachel felt irritation at the words.

“He’s paranoid.”

“He’s worried for you… You haven't called him for a while.”

“I haven’t called him in like a week.”

“Right, which for you two is like a year.” Oracle wasn’t wrong, but the idea of talking to Damian right now did not sound appealing to Rachel.

“I’ll talk to him when I come back on Sunday.” Immediately Rachel winced, Oracle would pick up on the avoidance, like a hound sniffing blood.

“...Did he do something?” That was a complicated question. Technically Damian hadn’t done anything, had accepted her new found independence with grace. At least after the initial shock of her announcement of moving to Bludhaven had died down. But things between the two had… shifted since they each put on their new respective cowls.

Rachel had worked with Damian as Batman before and knew how to traverse that relationship. But that had been when she was Robin, and she wasn’t anymore. Neither really knew had to talk when they weren’t partners, when Damian didn’t have to look after her. She knew he was trying to give her space to have independence but was struggling with it. As it was anytime the conversation shifted to her life he would become judgey and she couldn’t escape the feeling she was disappointing him. 

Disappointing him in her choice of city. In her choice of apartment or job. In her choice of Nightwing. He didn’t say it but every time they spoke Rachel got the sense she had failed some test she hadn’t even realized she had been taking. 

It had started after the relief at the end of Spyral had worn off, leaving each to wonder how the hell they were supposed to act around the other.

“He didn’t do anything.” Rachel finally answered, throat uncomfortably tight as the words scraped out of it. “Nothings wrong, I’ll talk to him when I come home.” Oracle was silent for a moment, but one thing Rachel loved about Babs is she never pushed. At least not about things like this.

“Alright. I’d better go, Knight and Hood are doing a drop on one of Penguins shipments. Gotta make sure they don’t blow up a block again.” Rachel let out a small huff of laughter.

“I won’t keep you, thanks for your help Oracle.”

“Talk to you later Wing.” The comms didn't really disconnect, but a void of absence filled her ears telling her that Oracle had switched channels. For a moment she just sat there, staring blankly ahead, as though wondering what she was supposed to do now as the familiar feeling of loneliness washed over her.

She should patrol, had been working on a schedule to watch over different quadrants of the city at different times, on the off chance anyone was following her. She had stopped an alarming amount of muggings, murders and assaults in the month she arrived, so she knew patrol was beneficial. But it was also discouraging in a way. The police response was abysmal if not downright neglectful. Criminals she’d drop off right at the precinct doors would be let go within minutes. Victims refused medical care and certainly refused to press charges. It felt like Sisyphus, rolling the boulder uphill again and again, only to have it drop down when he finally reached the top.  

It was strange but out of all her family it had been Bruce who she talked to the most since moving.

The man had been through a similar struggle when he first appeared as Batman and had been sympathetic to her plight. Had offered tips and advice with little to no judgment. Thank God for therapy . She thought to herself, as before her Spyral stint she was sure he would have disagreed with every choice she made. But now he seemed hesitant to stir the pot with her, seemed to be actually trying.

Her and her siblings had arrived after Gotham had turned to Batman’s side, after the police had been mostly cleaned up and the skylight had been installed. And all of them had stayed in the cities fold, not venturing outward unless it was to another town which revered their protector. Like Metropolis or Star. They couldn’t understand why Rachel would want to do this, couldn’t understand the vitriol she faced from the city she had come to help. But Bruce could.

That too seemed to complicate her relationship with Damian. As her brother seemed to resent the quickness with which she forgave Bruce. Or perhaps he just resented the fact that she would call their Father and not him.

Letting gravity push her back, she laid down on the roof, flinging her arms to the side, her feet still dangling over the edge. Inviting the sounds of the city to wash over her.

Bludhaven, unlike Gotham, was a quiet city. On patrol as Robin there had always been a gunshot to break the silence or a cry for help. Here she seemed to stumble upon crimes by accident. The victims all blank face and silent, as though accepting their fate and simply willing it to be over faster. It had surprised her the first couple of days here. Then she realized… Gotham made sound because the city expected someone to save it. Bludhaven was silent because it knew no one ever would.

It reminded her of juvie. Though she was only there a couple weeks after her parents died before Bruce saved her, the memory of it was hard etched into her brain tissue. The silence, the despair, the resignation.

Maybe that's why she wanted to stay. She wanted to make the city cry, to scream, she wanted the people to fight for their lives. Not just suffer through them. A bit of impostor syndrome followed the thought: who was she to save a city ? But she quickly shook it away. The fight wasn’t always about winning, it was about trying.

Life was about trying. So she would try, because she wanted to. Because she needed to. Because months ago Tiger had reminded her to live for herself, and she still didn’t know how to do that. So in the meantime she would live for others.

After a moment she pulled herself up and climbed back to her feet, sparing the city one last glance before angling herself towards her apartment. Before she could take a step however a strange flux of air brushed past her, ruffling her ponytail at the movement.

“Think fast.” The familiar voice came from behind her but before she could respond she felt lean arms pick her up and warm air press onto her from all sides. Instinctively she closed her eyes and ducked her head into the man’s chest. Experience told her if she spared a glance the vertigo would not be worth it.

“Wally!” She meant to scold him but the familiar euphoria of speed caused her to laugh at the name instead. She heard him chuckle softly above her.

“Names Rob!” That’s not my name she wanted to remind him, but before she could the man came to a halt. The outside smog replaced by the cool chill of her apartment. The heating in her building had been broken since she moved in, not that she would really need it until winter. But the temperature change did cause her to shiver slightly as Kid Flash set her down. “How is it colder in here than outside?” Brushing her now frazzled hair out of her face, she turned to look at her friend. Wide grin stretching across her lips as she took in his cavalier and equally smiling face. Pulling off his cowl she matched his movement and pulled off her mask, wincing as the glue pulled at her skin.

“What on Earth are you doing here? Don’t you have a cat in a tree to save?” She teased good naturally, causing him to roll his eyes in response. She watched as he walked over to her fridge and began pulling out leftovers. Smelling each container and putting them back in until he found one that was at least partially fresh.

“Not all of us can live in the murder capital of America Rob.” She grimaced at the name again but didn’t correct him. Instead she hopped onto her counter and plucked a french fry from the Styrofoam container he held.

“Excuse me, I live in the 2nd murder capital of America.” He sat on the counter next to her. Shoulder knocking into her’s.

“Only cause Gotham's bigger. By population you got it beat.” Rachel shrugged. The statistics hadn’t scared her when she moved and didn’t now.

“Aw KF, you worried about little ole me?” She placed a hand over her head as though she was swooning causing him to let out a crude snort, bits of potato flying out of his mouth.

“Yeah Rach, I wouldn’t want this city to poison your ‘delicate sensibilities’.” The sarcasm was thick and she smiled at the response. She had always been close to Wally, in part thanks to Tim and Bart’s own friendship. But she had worried after everything that had gone down the two wouldn’t fit together anymore. Thankfully he, Donna, and Garth had taken everything in stride. With the ease and fluidity that only youth seemed to hold. Maybe it was because they were friends and not family, but they had barely blinked at her decision to relocate. Maybe it's because like her, they too longed to be out from under their mentors watchful eyes. Bristling at the suffocating hold of parents and siblings who were too afraid to let go.

She would expect her siblings to understand. All of them had flown the nest and created a team of their own when Bruce had become too overbearing. Maybe it was because she was the youngest, maybe it was because she had left to be alone, but they all seemed afraid to let her do the same.

“Careful Rob, I can see smoke coming out of your ears from how hard you're thinking.” He pulled at her earlobe and she batted his hand away. Introspective , that had been the word used when she had first come home. But now she was getting tired of thinking so much.

“You know that’s not my name.” It was not a harsh correction but Wally shot her a guilty look regardless. “Sorry, habit.” She had been Robin for ten years, she had been Nightwing for a month. Growing pains were expected, she reminded herself.

“It happens.” She gave him a smile to show she wasn’t actually upset, which he quickly matched. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Last time you showed up in the middle of the night it was because you wanted to set glitter bombs off in the cave.” Pranking Tim’s team had been one of their favorite activities, neither pointed out that they hadn’t done so since well before Rachel’s death.

“Aquaman brought Garth up for some diplomatic meeting. Donna didn’t tell me the specifics but we’re planning a Royale. Cave, tomorrow, the team is going to be in Brazil for the week and Bart told me we could use their training rooms.” A Battle Royale was a glorified laser tag session that they marketed to their mentors as training. A small part of Rachel's brain called it childish. After all she had been through it felt stupid to play games with her friends when she had a city to look after. But a larger part that sounded suspiciously like Tiger disagreed. That part told her that if she pigeon holed herself into only thinking about work she would disintegrate into something that looked uncomfortably like Bruce, and no one wanted that.

“Sounds like fun.” Besides her she felt Wally relax slightly as though waiting for rejection. “I have to work until five tomorrow but can arrive after.”

“Great, I’ll swing by then!” Clapping his hands together he jumped down from the counter. Finishing off the last remaining food in a blur he threw the container away and gave her a salute. “Whelp gotta run, catch you tomorrow Rob.” With a smile he sped out of the room, causing loose papers and curtains to jostle after his wake.

“That’s not my name!” She called after him, knowing it was useless.

With him gone the stillness of the apartment settled around her as the disrupted items slowly sank back into place. The place wasn’t bad, not nearly as bad as some of the apartments she had seen. The walls were cracked and paint was chipping, but the foundation was solid and O had analyzed a sample to check there was no lead. Her door had three locks though only two worked, not that it matter as before she had even moved in she had installed her own set of security.

She had been adamant to pay for it all herself, something that only Jason had seemed to understand. The first week it had been unbelievably bare but slowly she had been able to fill it with odds and ends to the point where it no longer felt like she was squatting. Her family hadn’t been over, she practically banned them from Bludhaven as a whole. She knew if they saw the water stain on the ceiling and the lopsided oven which only worked when she hit it in the right place they would throw a fit. 

But it was hers. Just hers, and that mattered.

Still it was a quiet, and she hadn’t been able to bring in the warmth that the Penthouse had seemed to spew. Though whether that was the faulty heating or the lack of roommate she didn’t really know. 

Turning to look at the little green clock on the microwave across from her she let the numbers 3:38am flow through her mind. Pulling out her phone she swiped through missed messages and email notifications until she pulled up the contact she really wanted to speak to. Hitting the call button she waited as the phone rang slowly before finally connecting.

“You should be in bed.”

“You know normal people start off with a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’”.

“Hello… You should be in bed.” Rachel snorted at that and she climbed down from the counter, slowly pulling off her suit as she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder.

“Just got back from patrol, thought I’d call you before I turned in… Unless you're busy?”

“I can make time.” The response was quick and Rachel smiled at it but didn’t call him out. “How was patrol?” The silent are you alright lingered in the air as Rachel pulled on an old t-shirt and shorts she used for pajamas. 

“Boring. Say what you want about Gotham but at least the bad guys had committed to their shtick. For all this talk about Blockbuster you’d think I’d see someone dressed in a blue and yellow color scheme or at the very least brandishing a VHS tape or two.” Tiger snorted on the other end of the phone.

“Most criminals don’t dress up to execute their plans, Rachel.”  

“I have years of experience that would disagree with you there Tony.” He snorted again and the two fell silent. In Spyral the silence had always felt comforting, but over the phone without being able to look at him Rachel felt herself get fidgety.

“So… Any news on Matron?” He left out another sound, this one more a sigh that lacked any of the previous jovially. 

“We have been unable to locate any additional information on her whereabouts. Gardener was thorough with whatever was done.”

“But you’re still looking right?” Months had passed since Matron had been disposed of by Gardner. Rachel didn’t hold any belief that the woman was still alive, but she also knew it was nearly impossible to grieve for someone when you didn’t know what had happened to them. Tiger knew that too, which is why part of his cleaning up of Spyral included searching for answers. But it had been months and trails had all but dried up.

“Yes… Yes, we are still looking for her.”

“Good.” Rachel laid down in her bed, listening to him breathe on the other side of the phone. It had been months since they had last been together and it was starting to feel like more of an obligation then a privilege to keep calling him. She liked him, of course she did, but long distance didn’t tend to work for everyone, and though Spyral felt like eternity it had only been two months, Her time away from him now eclipsed the time they had been together. 

She had felt this when they first arrived back in Gotham. Like Spyral had been some strange liminal holding space, where everything and nothing happened. But now stateside, it seemed farther and farther away from the direction she was moving towards

“Are you still there?” His voice was quiet over the phone and Rachel had the sense that he was thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, yeah I’m still here. Just tired.”

“Rest Rachel. We will talk again soon.” It was a promise, one she knew they’d both fulfill. But she couldn’t help but wonder for the day they wouldn’t.

“You to Tiger. Stay safe.” 

****

“You look dead on your feet trainee.” Blinking her eyes open Rachel lifted her head from where she had been laying it on the break-room table and met her supervisor's gaze.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m good though.” Renee, her supervisor nodded and threw a jacket at her.

“Good, we’re on call.” Years of training perked her up at the words and immediately Rachel scrambled up to follow after the older woman.

It was surprisingly, alarmingly, easy to get work as an EMT in Bludhaven. Rachel had expected months of training, licenses and certificates and the whole lot. Technically she hadn’t even been supposed to go on call until she reached 180 hours. But what Bludhaven made up for in crime it lacked in public servants and Rachel had been giving stitches since she was 10. As soon as her supervisor had seen she wasn’t a complete mess she had been brought on board.

Renee, like most of Bludhaven, had a stoic cynical disposition about her that matched the nearly constant gray sky and harsh reality of the city. But she cared about the people they helped and Rachel respected her for that. She had once heard someone describe east coasters as kind but not nice and Rachel couldn’t help but agree with that statement. It also helped that according to Rachel's research the worst thing on Renee’s record was a shoplifting charge from when she was a kid. Rachel had certainly done worse.

“What’s the call?” She moved to the passenger seat, climbing in after the other woman.

“Domestic Abuse case, dispatch called it in.” The answer was brash and with a quick nod Rachel turned her attention out the window. Gazing out into the empty Bludhaven streets as they rolled past. At half past two in the afternoon the city was nearly dead. All its inhabits either at one of the factories on the west side or at the shipping harbor on the east. The criminals sheltered away and resting until they could escape into the night.

It was unsettling. Even in Gotham folks could be found walking the streets, living their lives. The few people she could see here kept their heads down and hurried from one point to the other without looking up. She knew it got better the further away from downtown you got. Her own apartment was 6 miles north of the station and though quiet there was at least a bodega, a coffee shop, she had even met her neighbors. Here it was like the eye of the hurricane. 

That’s why I’m here, to help .

The ride was quick without having to compete with traffic and turning onto a street lined with stone box like apartment buildings she saw a flashing police car in front of one of them. The ambulance pulled up behind the car and Rachel could see a dark shape sitting in the back seat. Next to the vehicle was a woman sitting on the curb, blood dripping down her face barely talking to the police officer in front of her. A child sat next to her side, cradling what Rachel could only just barely make out as a bruised wrist.

Both she and Renee climbed out, the doors slamming shut caused the police officer to turn and look at them and Rachel felt herself relax at the sight of Officer Rohrbach. The older woman gave her a tight smile when she saw her before turning back to the victim. 

“The EMT’s are here and they’re just going to take a look at you and your son before we take your husband downtown.” The woman didn’t nod her head but she didn’t argue with her so Rohrbach took that as agreement. Standing up she walked over to them, a grim look on her face. “She refused to go to the hospital but she’s got a laceration on her head and some swelling. The kid's wrist is just sprained I think but you should probably check it out.”

Both Rachel and Renee nodded and moved to the two victims. Renee immediately gravitated towards the child. Something Rachel had expected as her partner seemed to have a particular affinity for them. Gently kneeling in front of the Mother she set down her case and pulled on her gloves.

“Hello, I’m Rachel. Can you tell me your name?” For a moment the woman just stared at her, uncomprehendingly before her mouth opened slowly.

“Beth.” Rachel gave her a small smile and brushed her hair back revealing a small deep cut above her right temple.

“Hi Beth, I’m going to get this cleaned up for you. Is that alright?” The woman didn’t nod or say yes but like the officer Rachel took that as okay to move forward. Quickly she began to clean out the cut as she said nonsensical things to the woman below her. Years of patrol had taught her about trauma reactions and victim handling and so she wasn’t offended when the woman said nothing in response. Her gaze only drifted once to her son when he left out a soft gasp of pain when Renee touched it.

Thankfully the wound wasn’t awful and could be closed with a butterfly bandage instead of stitches. Plastering the bandage on she gave the woman another small smile which was ignored, before shutting her case. Looking over she noticed Rohrbach watching them work from where she was leaned up against the car. Picking herself up Rachel walked over to her.

“She’s all set if you have any other questions to ask her Officer.” The woman gave her a small smile, shaking her head as she did so.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten all that I can. I’ll wait till Renee’s wrapped up and then bring this one in.” She patted the top of the car indicating to the man who was glowering in the backseat. She gave Rachel a once over before meeting her gaze.

“How's training treating your Grayson?” Rachel mirrored her position, leaning against the car as she watched her partner wrap the boy's hand. 

“It’s been… interesting.” The crimes were more bloody then Gotham but weren’t called in nearly enough. Day shifts were usually pretty straightforward but the few times a week Rachel worked nights she saw more gsw’s, broken bones, blunt force trauma, and missing limbs than she had seen in all of her time as Robin. It was shocking, but it wasn’t altogether new.

“Interesting?” Rohrbach was still watching her, eyes piercing in a way that reminded her of Bruce. “Where did you say you moved from?” She hadn’t, the two had met a handful of times and Rachel had done her own research on the officer, but they hadn’t talked outside of what was necessary.

“Gotham.” Rohrbach made an ‘ahh’ face as though that explained it, which Rachel supposed it did. “What about you? Bludhaven native?” She knew the answer but asked anyway.

“Chicago transplant actually” Rachel didn’t ask why she moved. Her police file told her enough. Chicago wasn’t as corrupt as Bludhaven, not by a long shot, but if you piss off enough of the wrong people with our questioning, you get transferred to someplace like this. Out of the way. “Been in Blud for about 5 years though”. Had been up for promotion to detective six times but after a string of arresting her own partners she had been put on meter duty .

“And how do you like it?” A stupid question, no one liked Bludhaven. But Rohrbach gave her another smile, this one more genuine.

“It’s interesting.” Rachel let out a huff of amusement and gave her a nod. “What made you move here anyway Grayson?” And wasn’t that a loaded question. I don’t know. I guess I was just drawn to a broken city because sometimes I feel a little broken too and I’m working on fixing myself so maybe I can fix everyone else too. Or It’s the closest city to Gotham besides Metropolis and despite wanting to be far away from home I also desperately need to be close to it . Instead she said,

“I guess I just needed to be somewhere and here seemed as good of a place as any.” Rohrbach shook her head at that, smile not waning, as though to say you're an idiot Grayson . Noticing Renee stand up, both got up from leaning against the car.

“You're a strange person Grayson. Never met anybody who wanted to move to Blud.” The woman began to leave but Rachel stopped her.

“My name’s Rachel… I mean you can call me Grayson if you’d like cause it's on my name tag, but you can also call me Rachel… If you want.” The words came out like word vomit and Rachel was embarrassed by them as soon as she said it. The officer just let out a small laugh, and shook her head again.

“I repeat, strange person.” Her smile softened as she walked over to her driver's side, hand on the handle. “Amy. You can call me Amy.” With a wave she got in the car and pulled away from the curb. Rachel let herself smile for a moment, cataloging the name for future use before turning to her partner.

“What's next?”

***

“You’re cheating!”

“I’m not cheating.”

“You’re cheating and I can prove it!” Rachel let out a laugh body slumping to the ground exhausted. The cool padded floors relived the heat from her flushed body. Wally was glaring from next to her, a red circle surrounding him signified that he was ‘out’. Donna and Garth were a couple feet away also sweating and also surrounded by a red circle but looking far less bothered about it. 

Garth walked over to them chugging a bottle of water and throwing Rachel her’s while Donna did the same to Wally.

“I hate to break it to you Wally but I’m pretty sure you're just a sore loser.” Wally shifted his gaze over to Garth, taking a drink of his own water.

“She’s won every round. Statistically that's not possible.” Donna snorted, collapsing next to Rachel and laying her head on her thighs.

“It is if she’s better than you.” Wally threw up his arms in frustration.

“You’re all blinded. I know the truth, I know when I’ve been played!” Rachel and Donna shared a look and Rachel held up her water bottle to hide her smile. Knowing if Wally saw it he’d just get angrier. 

It was nice. It was nicer than nice. Rachel had seen all her friends separately since coming back but it had been ages since they’d all gotten together like this. It felt reassuring almost. That there were a group of people her age who she could be completely honest to. Who would have some idea of what she’s going through. 

She felt Donna tug on her loose ponytail and she looked down raising her eyebrow.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rachel scolded herself, Your trying to be less introspective, remember ? But she just shrugged and looked over at the boys who were still bickering.

“This is nice… It’s been awhile since we could all hang out.” Donna nodded in agreement and slowly sat up so the two were shoulder to shoulder.

“How’s everything been? With Bludhaven and Bruce and everything?” The way she said Bruce’s name was like a curse. Rachel had forgiven him but most of the league hadn’t, it was clear her friend wasn’t thrilled she was still talking to him.

“Good. Both are good.”

“But?” Rachel let out a huff, pulling her hair out of the ponytail and shaking it loose.

“I don’t know. I just… I guess I just expected everything to snap back into place when I got back. But it's been months and nothing is… snapping.” Donna nodded slowly next to her.

“It’s like once you decided to do something everything should have fallen into place but now things feel just as unbalanced as before but without the comfort of familiarity.” Rachel shot her a look, but the other girl wasn’t looking at her.

“You speaking from experience?” Donna took another sip of water to stall for time. Then another. Before finally meeting her gaze.

“I left Diana.” Rachel felt her eyebrows raise, she hadn’t expected that. “Well maybe not left. We’re still... You know sisters. But I don’t want to be Wonder Girl anymore.” This was news to her, Donna had never given any indication that she was unhappy with the arrangement.

“You don’t?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s been great but I’m eighteen now and seeing you strike off on your own. It made me wonder if I should too?” That made Rachel uncomfortable for some reason, the idea that Donna took inspiration from her. But she didn’t voice that.

“What are you going to do?” Wonder Woman never really had a home base like Batman, much rather preferring to travel to where she was needed. For some reason the idea of Donna doing that scared Rachel. It wasn’t that she thought the other woman wasn’t strong or trained enough. But it seemed wrong.

“I’m actually thinking of moving to New York. Going to school, fighting on the side. I’ve talked to the Outsiders and the team about helping out on missions. I’m not looking to join, but it would be good I think, to get out there.” Rachel nodded, there were generations of heroes before them who did the same thing, perhaps it was their turn.

“Are you going to change your name?” Rachel looked up to see Wally staring at Donna, the boys having tuned into the conversation at some point. Donna seemed nervous at the question, a rare look on her.

“I was actually thinking of Troia?” How Greek was her first thought, though she didn’t say it. The name fit, it seemed older then Wonder Girl had, more personal and individual. Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl were partners much like Batman and Robin had been. But Troia was separate. 

“It sounds like stars.” Rachel said softly, smiling at her friend. “It sounds like a name crafted from stars… It suits you.” Donna smiled back, nerves making way for relief as she bumped her shoulder into hers.

“Nightwing and Troia. Flying through the night air, kicking ass, taking names.” Wally pumped a fist into the air.

“The Wonder Twins live on!” Rachel snorted and sprayed him with her water bottle.

“What about you Walls? Can’t be Kid Flash forever.” Wally shrugged, looking unperturbed.

“I don’t mind being Kid Flash. At least for now anyway. I wouldn’t mind moving though, not much happens in Keystone and Uncle Barry’s got a hold on Central.” He looked over to Donna, wiggling his eyebrows. “Need a roomie in New York?”

“Not if you keep doing that with your eyebrows.” Wally pouted at her and Rachel snorted again at the face. “Though it would be nice having someone to move with.” She looked over to Garth who was watching them all fondly.

“What about you Garth? What are your plans for the future?” 

“It is not uncommon for Atlantis youth to take a few years to travel before returning home. I have certainly considered it.” Wally scrunched his face at the answer.

“What, like Rumspringa?” Rachel buried her head in her hands.

“Oh my god Wally he’s Atlantian not Amish.” Wally threw up his hands in defense. 

“Rumspringa, sabbatical, gap year. It’s all pretty much the same thing right?” Donna gave him a look that screamed you dumb dumb boy .

“It really really isn’t.” She turned to look at Garth. “But it could be fun. New York is on the water. We’d all be together.” The words soured something in Rachel's gut. We wouldn’t all be together, I’d be a hundred miles away . Donna seemed to realize her words and gave Rachel a look.

“Bludhaven would only be like two hours away… Plus you could also move... No one would think less of you.” But Rachel would, to move to a city and give up a few months in just because it was too hard. It wasn’t an option. She was supposed to be independent, she was supposed to be figuring it all out on her own. She couldn’t do that if she fled to live with her friends. She gave Donna a tight smile.

“Bludhaven’s only two hours away.” They looked disappointed by her answer but unsurprised. Slowly they continued chatting about hypotheticals that Rachel could feel becoming more and more concrete. It felt strange like she had skipped a huge life step in between graduating high school and moving to Bludhaven. She had waited a few months since returning from Spyral to become Nightwing but the turn around had still been quick. She had ran forward while her friends had walked and now that they were finally making decisions about their own lives Rachel felt stuck in hers.

You wanted this. She reminded herself. It’s just FOMO. Moving to Bludhaven was the right choice, you can help this city. They’ll still be around, they’ll still come running if you call . 

She knew that she probably wouldn’t ever call.

Chapter Text

Damian didn’t like feeling unprepared.

No one did he supposed, but his particularly violent upbringing had stressed the dangers of not being able to expect the unexpected. His Mother drilled it into him with sharp words and even sharper blades, scarring his skin when he was barely old enough to hold a sword himself. His Father drilled it in with brisk warnings and instilled an appreciation for the weight of being a protector. It was one thing if your mistake ended in you getting hurt, it was another if it ended in someone else .

But ever since he had taken up the cowl Damian couldn’t help but feel he was always ten steps behind. He had done it before, when his Father had been lost in the timestream, and had felt the same then. But over the year and a half of wearing the cowl and the cape, he settled into the role. He caught up. Now it felt like he was back at the beginning of the race, with all his training proving to be useless.

It didn’t help that Rachel wouldn’t return his call.

His little sister had been his crutch as Batman, had been his partner, they had been the best . And perhaps foolishly he had assumed that when the time came that she was ready to be a hero once more she would be at his side. She had mentioned when she returned from Spyral the unlikelihood of her being Robin again, but when she debuted Nightwing he had assumed that their dynamic would remain unchanged.

It hadn’t, and Nightwing had soared to a new city as soon as her wings had been unfurled, and that had been fine. It had been he told the small part of his brain that still seemed to disagree. He had come to grasp the fact that he would be alone, as alone as one could be with the rest of his siblings running around. But they were all older and independent, and while they would always have his back, they would not constantly be at it.

Which again, would be fine if Rachel would at least return his call.

He didn’t know where he had misstepped in between her coming back and her leaving again. But clearly, he had, for every phone call was quickly sent to voicemail, returned only with a strained and impersonal text response. The few times she came home since moving to Bludhaven always carried with it a strange tenseness. As soon as she saw him she would become rigid, as though expecting him to judge her or criticize her. Or hurt her. 

The rejection stung more whenever she would turn her gaze to Bruce and would relax a fraction when she noticed him.

After all, Damian wasn’t the one to hit her, why should it be fair that Rachel had forgiven their Father but couldn’t seem to take a moment to talk to him?

“You’re moping Spiky.” The old nickname jolted Damian out of his thoughts. The sounds and scents of the cave washed over him as he took in the sight of Oracle watching him from the Batcomputer he was currently sitting in front of. 

“Don’t call me Spiky.” He said with no real heat, Barbara rolled her eyes at the response but said nothing. The nickname had come about when the two were young and the only other Bats running after Bruce’s cape. When Damian’s hair stuck straight up and he hadn’t yet figured out how to tame it. Before his siblings had softened him, and the name had felt like an insult and not camaraderie. Barbara continued to stare him down and he realized he hadn’t responded to the first half of her statement. Straightening in his seat he crossed his arms stiffly in front of him. “I am not mopping.” Barbara snorted.

“Then you’re doing a great impression of it.” He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her, though only just barely. “...I told her to call you back.” Heat crept up his neck at Oracle having correctly guessed what he had been ruminating about. But he made no move to repute it, having grown out of the instinctual denial that followed him in youth when he was caught caring about anything. 

“I don’t need you fighting my battles Gordon.”

“I’d hardly call getting Rachel to talk to you a ‘battle’ Wayne.” Please, he thought to himself, getting Grayson to do anything she didn’t want to do was akin to going to war . The two stared at one another, Barbara patiently as though waiting for Damian to break. Damian stiffly, reluctant as always to share his thoughts. If Father can learn how to talk about his feelings, surely you could bare it for a moment . With a sigh, he uncrossed his arms and relaxed slightly in his seat.

“Has she spoken to you? About whatever it is I’ve done to bother her?” Barbara also relaxed in her seat.

“Not specifically.”

“But you have opinions?” She gave him a small smile.

“Don’t I always?” He gave her an unimpressed glare to which she rolled her eyes at. “You need to relax Damian. Try yoga, take a Xanax, you know weed is now legal in Gotham, I’m sure it would do wonders-”

“As much as I appreciate the mental health benefits of cannabis I do not need to ‘relax’ Oracle. Not when I have more important things on my plate.” Things like Rachel went unsaid but Barbara heard it regardless and stopped her teasing.

“She thinks you’re disappointed in her.” Damian blinked slowly at the words, the absurd thought not quite landing.

“That's ridiculous, I could never be disappointed in her.” Barbara rolled her eyes at him and he couldn’t help but feel he missed the point.

Ten steps behind, once more .

“I know that Damian and you know that. But Rachel… She’s got a lot on her plate and you can be a bit… abrasive at times. It’s not entirely unexpected that she would misinterpret your advice or guidance as judgment.”

“She never did before.” Before Spyral when things could be communicated between the two with a glance and misunderstandings didn’t exist because his sister could read him better than Cassandra on her worse day.

“A lot of things are different from before… I don’t think she can fully trust any of us yet, not without a little suspicion.” Damian leaned forward in his seat, frustration flooding him at Gordon’s words.

“But I wasn’t the one to break her trust.” Barbara gave him another small smile. 

“It doesn’t matter. Trauma isn’t neatly divided between you and the person who hurt you. It colors everything. You know that Damian.” He did, but it still felt unfair. He pulled his gaze away from the screen, eyes lingering on the glass cases holding their old costumes. The bright red of the Robin vest cut through the darkness.

“And yet she’ll call Bruce back and not me.” 

“Because she’s not afraid of Bruce failing her again.” His gaze snapped back at her, immediately defensive.

“I wouldn’t.” Barbara simply shrugged her shoulders.

“But you could and the possibility is what's frightening.” Damian let out a sharp huff of air, running a hand roughly across his face in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. 

“And how do you recommend I show her that I’m not disappointed in her?”

“Have you tried calling her?” He shot her another glare and Barbara held up her hands in surrender. “Joking, sorry… She may be more receptive to talk as Nightwing… She thinks you hate the name.” Damian did hate it a little, if only because it felt completely removed from their family, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Gordon.

“I do not have a reason to call Nightwing back into Gotham.” At least no urgent one, No breakouts, no bombings or gassings. Barbara gave him a wolfish grin.

“If only you had a new lead on the mysterious new assassinations plaguing Gotham's elite.” Damian’s interest was immediately piqued.

“You could not have led with that?”

“What can I say, I like to watch you squirm.”

“ Oracle. ” She rolled her eyes again and readjusted the glasses on her nose before typing on her computer.

“God Damian, you’re no fun. You’re starting to turn into Bruce.” As soon as the words were said she winced a little, the jab holding more weight than it once had. Damian did not comment, and after a few clicks, Barbara’s image was replaced by a photo of a middle-aged blonde woman as she sent the information through. A woman who Damian actually recognized. 

“Cressida Clarke?” A media mogul who ran the Gotham Gazette and whose family had been one of Gotham's founding Fathers, right next to the Waynes and the Kanes. She ran in almost all the same circles as their Family, and though Damian didn’t go to gala’s and events if he did he almost always saw her.

“The very same. Given the high profile of the murders, it's not altogether surprising. But it seems she had a phone call with all three the day before they died.” 

Two days ago, Aubrey James a promising up-and-coming mayoral candidate was found murdered in his penthouse apartment. Pinned to the kitchen wall by a single dagger embedded into his torso. One stab, quick and efficient. No one had seen anyone enter the candidate's home or leave, despite the massive security that had been placed on him. James hadn’t been particularly clean, but there wasn’t an obvious reason anyone would want him dead. Even his fellow candidates had been surprised and cleared of suspicion. The election was still a half a year away, there was no reason to be gunning for anyone now.

In attempting to investigate the murder Damian was enlightened to too similar cases nearly decades apart. The murder of Marion Grange, an assistant district attorney that had occurred around the time Rachel had been adopted. As well as the assassination of then-Mayor David Hull a few years before Damian had been born when his Father first became Batman. Both had also been murdered by a single blade, with no witnesses to the murders. With investigations finding no definitive reason as to why they were killed.

The only reason Damian had been able to connect all three was the type of blade used. Long, curved, with a golden hilt. More like a claw than a dagger.

But apparently, they had another connection through Cressida Clarke.

“Any additional findings on what Clarke contacted them about?”

“Nothing substantial. Given her standing it’s not altogether strange that she called all three, but the timing…” Damian nodded.

“Is suspicious.”

“There is one other thing.” The image on the screen changed from the photo of Clarke to grainy photos taken a decade apart of a single white feather. “Both Hull and Grange were found next to a single white feather. It was deemed unrelated and was not cataloged into evidence but could be found in other crime scene photos. It wouldn’t hurt to check if one is at Jame’s penthouse as well. Diagnostics could give us a clue on relevance.” The conversation of calling Rachel filtered back into Damian's head and a small smirk appeared at the corner of his lips.

“And it would not hurt to call in backup” The image of the screen closed again and Barbara gave him a quick salute.

“Fingers crossed Spiky.” Picking up his comm Damian placed it into his ear and nodded to Oracle to patch him through. Only Barbara had direct links to Rachels Bludhaven channel which still stung a little, though he understood the desire for independence. 

Almost immediately his ear was filled with the sounds of fighting and despite himself, he flinched, not quite expecting it. Glancing at the clock he saw it was nearing midnight, his own introspection having delayed his patrol longer than he would have liked.

“You’ve reached your friendly neighborhood vigilante, press one to be read your Miranda rights, press two to connect to your local chapter of ‘Henchmen Anonymous.”

‘ Who the hell is she talking to?”

“Shut up and get her already-”

A particularly loud thwap cut the man's voice off and Damian heard Barbara let out an amused chuckle.

“Bad time N?”

“Never a bad time for you O. I’m just teaching these fine gentlemen why it’s wrong to mug people. - Remember fella’s ‘Just Say No.’ doesn’t just apply to drugs”

“God, does she ever shut up?”

Another loud thud met the question and almost immediately Rachel’s line went quiet outside of the sounds of her pulling out handcuffs.

“Anyway, what I can I do for you-”

*BANG*

“Nightwing!” The sound of the gunshot was so jarring that Damian couldn’t help the shout that escaped him. Over the comm he could hear Rachel swear quietly to herself before the sound of a quick shuffle and a gun being disarmed followed.

“I’m fine Batman… Thanks for the warning O.” 

Damian saw Barbara wince slightly at the words, but he paid that little notice.

“Nightwing status.” He was met with a belabored sigh, something Rachel had used to never do to him but seemed to becoming a common occurrence.

“All five limbs are accounted for. Are heads considered limbs? I mean they have to be right-”

“Nightwing.”

“ I’m fine B. Promise.”

“You were almost shot”

“I was fine.” 

Incredulity mixed with panic at her words, and he felt his voice lower in frustration. Creating a result uncomfortably close to his Father’s Batman voice.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, you don’t have anyone watching your back there. You need to pay attention .” He was met by a tense silence and he saw Barbara shoot him an aggrieved look from the computer screen.

“I was paying attention.”

“Then act like it.” The growl that came out was unintended but he heard Rachel take in a breath before responding back. Voice sharper than it was before.

“Can I help you with something Batman?”

There it was, the strain that had been following them ever since Rachel came back. Because Damian had the infuriating ability to put his foot in his mouth. It must be genetic . It was strange though, because he had been cold and sharp before, he had never minced his words and was not particularly known for his kindness. Rachel used to understand that. Had used to bare it fondly. But somewhere along the line the game had changed and Damian never got the new set of rules. Taking a deep breath he responded.

“Are you available to join me in patrol tonight? Or tomorrow perhaps if it is too short a notice?” There was another unbearable pause and Damian could already hear the rejection in it.

“Am I needed?”

No, but you are wanted. He thought to himself but bit his tongue before the words could escape. Part of him wanted to lie, to assuage her that he couldn’t do it without her help. But he knew that she would then come and be angry at him for being misled.

“Your assistance would be appreciated… but is not altogether required if you have other duties.”

“Maybe next time then. Goodbye, Batman.”

It was a dismissal, and Damian didn’t even wait for Oracle to kick him off the line before he turned it off and tugged the comm from his ear and closed out the call. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his brow to stave off the incoming headache. 

I’m an idiot .

“Don’t take it personally.” He didn’t flinch from the unexpected noise but he did tense for a moment before forcing himself to relax.

“She calls you .” There was a pause as the sound of a tea tray being set down on the desk filled the space.

“She does.” was the diplomatic response and opening his eyes he glared softly back at his Father. More out of instinct than any real ire. His Father gave him a small smile, something that had been absent from his face for years but was growing more and more common as the months went on. “She calls me. Just like you, Tim and Jay call Alfred, and Cass and Steph call Barbara instead of me” His Father handed him a cup of tea which Damian slowly accepted. 

“I do not understand why.” Damian admitted in a quiet voice, the words making him feel weak. Bruce took the other cup of tea he had brought on the tray and sipped it slowly. Thinking a moment before he responded.

“I think it’s harder to talk to someone you think you’re disappointing.” Gordon had said something similar and Damian felt his annoyance come back.

“She is not disappointing me.”

“ I know that… She doesn’t.”

“She talks to you instead of me…. She talks to you .” Even though you hurt her and made mistake after mistake and give her no reason to trust you. I’ve been there by her side and you haven’t, and yet she’ll speak with you .

The implications of the statement were clear and his Father winced slightly but did not deny them. Instead, he took another sip of his tea, allowing himself to think through a response before talking.

He’d been doing that a lot lately. Since retiring, since therapy . Rearranging his words internally until they matched the things he wanted to say, instead of responding immediately and creating pain and misunderstanding. As loathed Damian was to admit, still harboring so much anger for his father's actions, Bruce had begun to change.

Bruce was slower than he once was, he had always been methodical but now he was gentler… attentive. He was also quieter, he didn’t interrupt, and he waited. He was present but not overbearing. And he looked different too. The eyebags that had been a staple of Damian’s youth were gone, and replaced with rest. Some of his muscle mass had diminished, giving him a softness that Damian had never seen on him. His hair had grown longer. No longer needing to be cropped short for the cowl it now curled slightly at the ends and under his ears. The incoming gray strands were now more noticeable with length.

It suited him.

It made Damian angry sometimes, thinking of how much pain could have been avoided if his Father had let go of his ego earlier. But that was beside the point.

Bruce set down his tea, his mind seemingly finally in order to respond.

“Rachel and I are not perfect, but we’re trying. And maybe it's cynical of me, but I think part of the reason it's easier is because she already knows that she can live without me. Just as much as she knows she can’t live without you again.” The introspection from his Father was strange, but it was a relief not having to be the adult. 

“She doesn’t even talk to me….If anything that shows that she is perfectly capable of living without me.” His Father gave him a sad smile and his hand twitched as though itching to tussle Damian's hair. For a moment Damian wished he would.

“Give her space. Give her time, and try to be patient. She has her own life now, let her live it, and she’ll come back.” Damian knew he still looked apprehensive and with a sigh his Father reached out a hand and placed it gently on his shoulder. “A lot has changed in 6 months. We have to be able to change with it.”

“I suppose.”

***************************************

The world is still and Bruce is staring at her, waiting. Then he says her name and for a split second Rachel wants to pull the trigger. For a split second, all her anger and exhaustion seep into her controlled body and she wants to pull the trigger. Because then all of this would be over.

Her body is not her own, and fighting it is taking more energy than just letting herself be used. And she wants to pull the trigger.

So she does.

Rachel felt herself jolt upwards in bed. Her body thrummed with pent-up energy and her heartbeat caused a loud thumping in her ears drowning out everything, even her labored breathing. The dream played behind her still-clenched eyelids. The memory of it felt so real that she wanted to vomit, and in part it was real. All the way up until the end.

It was not the first time she dreamed of fighting Bruce at Spyral, nor would it be the last. But it never failed to cause icy tingles to creep up and down her arms. Leave them with the strange coldness of anxiety at the realization of what could have been. If she stopped fighting. If she kept letting herself be used.

What a fantastic way to start the day .

Opening her eyes the thought was somewhat diminished at the sight of heavy darkness enveloping her room. The alarm clock next to her was the only thing issuing a small light as 4:56 am shone back at her. The rest of the world was still asleep. Even her family would be done with patrol and be snuggled up inside, hidden from the world before the first rays of sunlight split through and shone on the city streets.

Her own alarm would not be going off until 6:00 am and Rachel was familiar enough now with this new nightmare routine to know that she would not be able to go back to sleep until then. Picking up her phone she swept through the morning news notifications to get to her contacts. Her finger lingered just above the name ‘Tiger’ for a moment before uncertainty won out and she swiped upwards towards the ‘C’s’ instead. 

The phone did not ring long.

“Sister.” Rachel felt herself relax at the familiar voice, blocking out the sound of her heartbeat.

“Hey Cass.”

“You should be asleep.” There was a slight admonishment in there, but it was mostly covered up with fondness. Strangely it reminded her of her last phone call with Tiger.

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to you.” Cass let out a humming noise which caused her to smile. “So how's Hong Kong and the super secret spy mission we’re not allowed to know about?” Cass had left Gotham just before Rachel on a mission that none of them really knew much about, outside of the fact that it was important to her. 

“ You were the spy, not me.” The reminder rubbed her in the wrong way after the nightmare she just had.

“Touche” 

She heard Cass pause over the phone. Something in Rachel’s voice giving her away.

“You are… alright?” It was a question that Rachel already knew Cass knew the answer to. The perks of having an older sister.

“Just a nightmare.” The admission was cavalier but Cass made another humming sound over the line.

“About what?” Rachel picked at the top of her bedcover before answering. Her eyes slowly grew used to the dark as shapes around her began to become somewhat visible.

“Spyral.” Cass hummed again, not at all surprised and Rachel let herself fall backwards so that she was staring at her ceiling. “It’s stupid.”

“It is not.”

“... It was about the fight with Bruce. You know, when you found me?” She waited for a moment but Cass said nothing so she continued. “In my dream, I shot him.”

“But you did not in real life.”

“I know, but I could have.” Tears began to collect at the corner of Rachel's eyes, the sting causing her to blink rapidly. In frustration, she began to rub at them. “I could have. They could have made me do anything… and if I had just stopped fighting I would have done it.”

“But you didn’t.” Rachel let out a deep breath before whispering her next words.

“But there was a minute I wanted to.” She waited to be berated, she waited for judgment, she waited for her sister's disgust.

“Then why didn’t you?” Rachel blinked dumbly not quite expecting the question

“I didn’t want to hurt him.” 

“Then that is the thing that matters. Not your first thought, but your second. Not what you think but what you act on.”

“And if they had made me act on it?”

“Then that would not be your fault at all.” Despite herself, Rachel snorted at the tone of her sister's voice. As though her words were obvious. “Cain made me do many things as a child that I did not want to do. He also made me do things that I did not mind doing. Things I felt right in doing. I was still being used. Do you understand?” Her sister did not speak of her biological Father often and Rachel wanted to understand but she didn’t. 

“Not really.” 

“Not having control is a bad thing to feel. We can only take guilt for the things we do when we have our bodies and mind. When one or both of those things are not in our own hands it is not our fault…. It does not feel good to have the choice taken from us. It sucks.”

Rachel let out a surprised laugh at that, not used to Cass speaking so bluntly. Before the rest of the words registered.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be complaining. It wasn’t that bad. I fought against it. Worse things have happened to me.”

“We do not decide which wounds ache after they’ve healed, we can only relieve the pain when we notice it.” The words were wise but the genuineness was almost uncomfortable.

“I’m getting that printed on a poster.” It was Cass’s turn to laugh and Rachel smiled in response to it. “No really, that was good. Right up there with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ and ‘Keep Calm and Carry On.” She couldn’t see her, but Rachel was sure Cass was shaking her head, her eye’s gleaming with fondness and exasperation.

“Goodbye, Rachel.”

“Bye Cass.” With a smile, Rachel hung up. Feeling somewhat more lightened than when she had first awoken though still not totally assuaged. Glancing at her nightstand again she sighed when she saw the conversation had only lasted a few minutes.

No use sitting in bed for an hour. Might as well get up.

The morning went by without any more trauma or sibling conversations and soon she was saddled in the passenger seat of the ambulance. Renee quietly drove them to their first stop of the day, which also happened to be an active crime scene.

It wasn’t the first time a day included a run-in with the BPD. But it was the first time it was a murder case. The call had come in right when Rachel arrived that a witness had been injured when he had stumbled in on the scene. 

The two rolled up to the warehouse on the east side of the shipping dock and though she had walked these rooftops often at night, it was the first time she would be doing so on the ground during the day. The view was somehow more depressing with the midmorning sun shining weakly off the polluted harbor water. The blue and red lights of police cruisers barely cutting through the haze and grime of Bludhaven air. The mid-October air had taken a shift in the last two days and beat back any trace of summer's warmth with sharp wind. 

“Come on Rookie, this way.” Looking up she followed as Renee made her way past the newly posted crime scene tape and towards the cruiser closest to the warehouse where a lanky teen sat, trembling slightly under an old wool blanket. A tall young Latina woman stood next to him, her pale skin slightly washed out by the dark red lipstick she wore and light brown eyes framed with heavy lashes. Long brown hair was tied up in a tight ponytail and a relaxed black suit hid what Rachel could tell was a toned figure. She was older than Rachel, though not by much, most likely around Tim’s age.

She was so obviously a Fed, and Rachel had half a moment to wonder what she was doing here before the woman looked up and noticed them approaching. Her gaze glanced over Renee’s before spotting Rachel, giving her the once over before a small smirk appeared on her face and she took them both in.

“I was just finishing up with him he’s all yours.” The Fed said, gesturing to the teen, who now that they were closer Rachel could see rips and tears blooding his forearm. Renee gave the woman a nod before moving over to the boy, Rachel for her part stayed back. Not wanting to crowd him until Renee called her over. The woman kept watching her, eyes darting from her face to her uniform and back again. Before finally she smiled and held out her hand.

“Catalina Flores, FBI.” Rachel raised an eyebrow in surprise at the bluntness before taking the woman’s hand. The grasp was firm if not slightly domineering which given the position was not altogether surprising.

“Rachel Grayson, EMT.” Catalina smirked at that, though Rachel wasn’t sure why.

“EMT? You look a little young for that.” You look a little young to be FBI, but I didn’t tell you that to your face . Rachel gave her a small shrug, gently removing her hand from Catalina’s.

“I’m in training.”

“How old are you?” The question came from left field and for a moment Rachel couldn’t help but feel like she was being interrogated.  

“Eighteen.” Catalina hummed crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You seem pretty but together for an eighteen-year-old.” Rachel didn’t know how to respond so she just shrugged again. Her gaze darted back to her partner before meeting Catalina’s, and pointing a finger over to them she began to move.

“I’m just going to check in on-”

“Don’t you want to know what's going on here?” The question surprised Rachel enough to stop, she was curious, but she wasn’t here to investigate. Catalina noticed her interest however and smirked again, taking a step closer to cover the distance between the two.

“Mozy Bolton was murdered.” Despite herself, Rachel felt her jaw drop, eyes shooting over to where the rest of the police force were gathered over a body covered in a white sheet. Red already seeping through the material. Rachel let out a whistle.

“Someone took down Bolton? They’re either, brave, stupid, or -” 

“Powerful.” Catalina finished, her grin widening.

Mozy ‘Mayhem Maker’ Bolton was an established crime lord who couldn’t hold a candle to the likes of Sionis but was powerful enough to control most of Bludhaven. The other half belonged to Roland Desmond. 

As far as Rachel could tell, both were behind all major and minor crimes within the city. The death of one had the power to create a gang war if they weren’t careful. Depending on who orchestrated it. 

Rachel spared Catalina another glance, interest piquing at the new information.

“I guess that explains the Feds.” Catalina nodded.

“We’ve been watching Desmond for years now. If there’s any chance that he’s connected and we can pin it on him it could be huge.” Rachel let out another whistle, mind already skipping ahead a few hours to when she could begin her own investigation tonight.

“Damn.”

“You from Bludhaven?” Rachel's gaze drifted back to Catalina.

“What?”

“Seem to know a lot about the locals.” She gestured behind them to the corpse. “I’d love to pick your brain.” There was a subtext there that Rachel was missing but she just shook her head.

“From Gotham actually. Learned early on that the best way to survive was to know who to watch out for, you know?” It wasn’t completely false and Catalina seemed to accept it without any questioning. “Are you allowed to be telling me all this?” Catalina gave her a grin as though the two were sharing a secret.

“What can I say, I can’t resist a pretty face.”

Oh.

Oh.

Despite herself, Rachel felt a blush appear on her cheeks which only seemed to amuse Catalina further. Before either could respond one of the police officers detached themselves from the group and called over to them.

“Flores!” Both women looked up and Rachel saw Amy marching over to them. Gaze bounding between the two and an unreadable expression on her face. The grin Catalina had been sporting morphed into something more professional.

“How may I help you, Officer Rohrbach?”

“Detective Winters wants a word with you before you report to the Chief.” Catalina gave her a small nod. 

“I’ll be right there officer, I’m just finishing my conversation with Grayson.” Amy’s gaze landed back on her and despite the blush still coloring her face Rachel gave her a small nod back. After a moment Amy turned to join the others. Once she was gone Catalina relaxed a bit, sinking back into her stance. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a card and handed it over to Rachel.

“I’ll be hanging around for a while and I wouldn’t mind running into you again.” Catalina turned to look at the other officers her disdain clearly showing through. “I better go meet with Winters, not that it will get me anywhere with Desmond. Everyone knows the chiefs in Blockbuster's pocket.” The name jolted through Rachel's head and on instinct, she reached out to stop Catalina from leaving.

“Blockbuster?” Catalina gave her a look but didn’t pull away. Embarrassed by the reaction Rachel let go. “Sorry.”

“Desmonds alias. Not known to the public, probably not logged in any reports with how much of the force he’s ‘financing’. Bludhaven’s not so different from Gotham, fewer crazies but ours have just as stupid of names.” Catalina turned back to her and reaching out she tucked a loose piece of hair beyond Rachel’s ear. “And you don’t need to apologize cariño, you can grab me anytime you’d like.” With a wink Catalina pulled herself away and walked towards the others, leaving Rachel frozen on the side.

“Are you done flirting Grayson, or do we need to wait until you pick up your jaw from the floor to head out.” Quickly closing her mouth, which she realized was in fact open, Rachel turned back to Renee who was now finished with the witness and was watching her with amusement. The words made Rachel uncharacteristically flustered.

“I wasn’t flirting.” And she wasn’t. But this was the first time a woman had flirted with her and Rachel was feeling flustered. Oh my god, am I into women? Nope, nope, Rachel was going to push that train of thought as far back as she possibly could. To be unraveled at a later time and not at 9:30 on a Tuesday standing next to Bludhaven harbor. Renee for her part took pity on Rachel and pushed her back to the truck.

“Whatever you say, rookie.”

The rest of the day was thankfully event free and the panic left by Catalina was quickly trumped by the revelation of Blockbuster's identity. An identity that the longer Rachel looked at it the more obvious it became.

Roland Desmond was a Roman Sionis duplicate, having spent the better part of a decade building up Bludhaven’s underground and using the funds to build clubs and businesses as fronts. The BPD was practically useless and even if they weren’t on his payroll Desmond was good. With nothing tracking directly back to him, nothing concrete anyway. Everyone knew who he was and what he did, but with no way to prove it, there was nothing that could be done.

Yet.

As night fell Rachel donned her now familiar black and blue costume and made her way to the precinct. The night air was cool at her back. Her suit was insulated and armored but with how this fall was shaping up, it was sure to be a blistering winter.

Landing softly on the roof of the building she made her way over to the ventilation system she had clocked when she scouted the building for the first time weeks ago. Rachel had been planning this since she had concluded her research on Amy, but with the most recent murder, tonight would be the first time she’d attempt contact.

Please, please don’t shoot me on sight.

Removing the grate Rachel slipped down, landing in the vent with a soft thump before making her way through the rows. She had studied the blueprints intently and so confidently stopped at the third opening on the left-hand side before peering through the bars to see an empty utility closet. Opening the grate she moved it to the side and slipped into the room. Pressing an ear to the door she listened for a moment at the distant sounds of far-away stragglers heading out to be replaced by the soon-to-be incoming night shift.

There were about 5 minutes where the building would be at its most barren, and Amy worked late. Opening the door slowly, Rachel cringed at the fluorescent lighting illuminating the hallway brightly. Before taking a breath and scurrying across the way to a closed door with a plate reading ‘Rohrbach and Garcia’ on it. Luisa Garcia left an hour ago and Amy was currently heading this way back from a coffee break. Opening the door she ducked into the empty office and looked around.

There were no windows, which was part of the reason this was so difficult in the first place. The room was a glorified broom closet with sturdy wooden desks pushed up against opposite walls. A coat rack stood near the door and a small mini fridge buzzed under Garcia’s desk. Nightwing moved to the other side of the door so that she would be hidden when it first opened. She didn’t love the idea of surprising Amy, but she didn’t really have much of a choice.

The sound of light footfalls clacked down the office and for a moment Rachel held her breath as they stopped in front of the door and the handle turned.

As soon as Amy was in the office, the door swinging shut behind her, Rachel came up from behind. One hand covered her mouth and the other restrained Amy’s right arm behind her as it was already lowering towards her gun.

“Don’t scream.” Rachel whispered into Amy’s air and immediately the woman froze. Yeah, just whisper ‘Don’t Scream’ in a woman’s ear, what a totally normal thing to do to not seem like a creep. “My name is Nightwing. You may have heard of me?” Rachel waited and slowly Amy nodded. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to talk.” Amy shot her a glare over her shoulder and Rachel winced. “Listen, I know this isn’t the best way to go about this, but I’m working with limited options.” Amy scoffed, or at least tried to through Rachel's hand. “I’m going to let you go now, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t scream… or shoot me.” Rachel paused again and after a moment Amy nodded once more.

Slowly Rachel released the older woman, who for her part did not scream right away. Instead, Amy shook out the arm that had been twisted behind her before turning around with a glare.

“What are you doing here?” The words were cold and lacked any of the warmth Rachel had grown used to, but she had been expecting that. Amy Rohrbach was by the books, that meant no vigilantes. 

“I need your help.” Amy let out an audible scoff at that but Rachel plowed forward. “Your police force is corrupt, your crime rates are through the roof, and one of Bludhaven’s biggest players was just murdered, most likely by his competition. You’re on the cusp of a gang war, I’m hoping to prevent that from happening.” Amy leaned heavily against her desk, arms crossed in front of her.

“You want to take down Desmond.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Why?” The question caught Rachel off guard.

“Because… he’s bad?” 

“ Why now? ” Amy responded, giving her a sharp look. “You show up a little over a month ago. Start beating up criminals and dropping them off at our doors. Taking justice into your own hands and now you think you can just walk in here and demand a partnership?”

“I’m not demanding I’m asking.”

“And so am I. I’m asking why?” Rachel felt her brain dry up and for a moment she couldn’t find an answer.

“Because…Because this is what I do.” 

“Break into offices?”

“Try to help.” Amy’s mouth shut at the response, and while she didn’t reject the words she didn’t prompt Rachel further. “I’ve done this before, maybe not here, but elsewhere. I want to help and Bludhaven looks like it needs it. So I’m here.” Amy gazed over her, taking in the ponytail and the bluebird on her suit, annoyance making way for confusion. 

“I know you.” For a moment Rachel’s heart stopped.

“What?”

Amy stood up and walked over to her, surveying her up and down before relization struck. Her mouth dropped open and her hand covered it in surprise. 

“Oh my god… you’re Robin.” Of all the things Rachel had expected her to say, that was not one of them.

“ What?” In an instant something in Amy softened. and she was looking at Rachel as she would out of mask. Almost maternally. 

“I saw the broadcast last year when those… people had you. I mean everyone did…. Everyone thought you died but… But you’re just a kid.” Rachel felt her mouth dry up. She had forgotten about the syndicates broadcast. So much had happened since then that she had almost forgotten the inciting incident. Being beaten, being forced into what she now knew to be the Nightwing costume, put on a stage and almost unmasked to the world.

She had forgotten people had seen that. 

She hadn’t expected to be recognized.

“I… Yeah, that was me.” Amy shook her head, appalled.

“Are you alright?” That question felt more loaded than Rachel could answer at the moment.

“I just want to help.”

“With Blockbuster.”

“With Blockbuster.” Amy let out a heavy sigh, displeased by the request but more receptive than she had been previously. As though the knowledge that Nightwing had once been Robin changed things.

“I don’t love it. I don’t like vigilantes even the government-sanctioned ones. But I get the feeling you’re going to do this regardless of if I help.” Rachel gave her what she knew to be a shit-eating grin and despite herself, Amy snorted at that. “What do you need kid? I’m just an officer, I can’t do much.”

“But you’re clean.” Amy nodded leaning back onto her desk and Rachel mirrored her position on the desk opposite.

“As clean as you can get in Bludhaven.”

“I need information. Tips and dates of shipments or meetings. Things that you know are going to happen but can’t stop yourself.”

“If you take out one of his shipments he’s just going to order another one.” Rachel smiled.

“I know. But If I keep stopping them eventually he’ll get mad. And when people are mad they-”

“- Make mistakes.” Rachel smiled again.

“Mistakes that might mean nothing to the officers in his pocket, but could be used by folks higher up chomping at the bit to bring him in.” Amy’s nose wrinkled at the mention of the FBI but she didn’t say anything

“I don’t like it, but I’ll help you on two conditions.” It was more than Rachel had been expecting so she acquiesced. 

“Name them.”

“Keep my name out of this. From here on out I come to you. I contact you. I’ve already got a red target on my back, I don’t need to have that extended to my family.” Rachel nodded already expecting as much and reaching into her utility built she pulled out a new burner phone programmed with her number.

“This will get you through to me.” Amy took it, rolling it in her hand for a moment before pocketing it. “What was the second thing?” A grave look appeared on the woman’s face, looking Rachel in the eye.

“Try not to let yourself get killed, kid. I don’t want to see you on any more tv screens.” Rachel gave her a tight smile, the reminder once again twisting her stomach.

“I’ll do my best.”

***************************************

“This is stupid.”

“This is brilliant! Come on Troia, isn’t this what you wanted when you moved off on your own? A chance to stop some baddies!”

“I wanted to help people. Not sit on top of a Bludhaven rooftop with a halfcocked plan to blow up a drug shipment.”

“Oh you know you love it T. How else would you get the opportunity to call me and KF ‘idiots’ in one night?” Despite herself, Donna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the building they were watching.

“Frankly I’m just proud you had the common sense not to run off and do this yourself. Though I am surprised you didn’t call the Bats in on this. Their closer.” Rachel nudged her shoulder playfully, plucking one of Troia’s loose hairs between her fingers and pulling it gently.

“And miss the chance to be in your sparkling presence?” Donna’s hand bat hers away and looking up Rachel caught Wally’s eyes and the two bit back a grin.

”What's the plan girl wonder, or are we just supposed to sit here all night?” The question served to center Rachel, the playful atmosphere shifting into a mission report. All three had worked together before but usually under the guidance of one of their mentors. It was rare to be the one in charge.

“My informant said there were three shipments of vertigo set to come into the city tonight. I would prefer for it to not get on the streets. We each take a warehouse, make sure the shipments are inside and detonate at the same time.” Rachel passed out two of the three controls to her friends. “Everything should be set up. The buildings are all under Desmond's name and are only used for storage, the explosion will only be enough to implode the building without affecting the surrounding area. Even so, this district is pretty dead at night so we should be clear of civilians. But do a double check and once we all give the go-ahead will detonate. Don’t do it early, it’ll be visible from here and I don’t want to scare off the last delivery.” Wally seemed ecstatic, as he always tended to be when explosives were involved. Donna took a controller without comment but did give Rachel a strange look when she finished.

“The Bats aren’t usually this showy with their messages.” Rachel gave her a quick grin.

“What can I say? I’m a performer.” She turned to look at Wally who was vibrating where he stood, causing the ground to smoke slightly.  “KF you’re at the Nothern warehouse up on Chester, Donna you’ve got the Eastern shipment on Morse, and I’ll be here. Comm’s on channel two and try not to be seen. If Blockbuster thinks the league is coming down on him it could be bad. Your guy's shipments are already delivered but my crew will be heading that way once they're done here. I’d like them to still think they’re only dealing with one person.” KF gave her a salute, placing his controller in a compartment in his suit.

“Aye, aye Captain.” Turning to Troia he opened his arms out to her. “All aboard the wally-mobile, please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.” Donna rolled her eyes but let herself be picked by him, before turning her gaze back to Rachel.

“Stay safe, call us if you need backup otherwise we’ll meet at your apartment.” Rachel gave them both a quick nod before they vanished, leaving only a short burst of air in their wake. 

Turning back to her own warehouse she waited and watched as men slowly began to spill out of their vehicles and into the building. A truck from the seller would be arriving soon and once it did she wanted to get rid of the shipment before they had a chance to buy it. No doubt the seller had already dropped the other two in case they were caught tonight so that some of the supply would be safe. There was a chance they were already expecting her.

“So what’s the plan?” Jumping slightly at the new voice, she pulled a eskrima stick from its holster before swinging it down behind her. Only for a hand to stop it from landing. “Come on Goldie, is that any way to treat your favorite brother?” Rachel rolled her eyes and kneed Jason in the stomach. Causing him to release her wrist as he doubled over.

“Black Bat is my favorite brother.”

“Rude.”

“What are you doing here Red Hood?” The anger in her voice must have b een apparent because Jason lost any of the jovialness he had been wearing.

“Don’t worry Wing, I’m not trying to step on your territory. The outlaws have been following your seller. O alerted me to your location, thought I’d check in before we storm them.”

“Would have been nice to know that earlier” 

“You would have if you ever bothered to answer your phone.” That… was fair . Ever since the other day when Damian had hijacked her comm, she had been avoiding her family. Nothing short of a world-ending emergency would be able to get through.

“Sorry.” She couldn’t see her brother's face through his helmet but he watched her for a moment before giving a casual shrug.

“It is what it is, like I said wanted to check in since this is your town now.” He was definitely stroking her ego, but she didn't say anything about it.

“The plan is to have the shipment delivered, clear out the warehouse, and blow it up.”

“Dramatic.”

“It’s a message.”

“Well far be it from me to prevent you from sending it.” Rachel raised her eyebrow at him.

“Really? You don’t have any opinions on my plan?” Jason shrugged again.

“Not my town Goldie. Arsenal and Star are following the truck, I’ll update them and we can get this firework show on the road.” The easy acceptance was surprising. The last time the two had worked together was before Spyral and getting Jason to agree on anything was akin to pulling teeth. For a moment Rachel was worried he was just placating her because he was afraid of ruffling her feathers. But she decided she didn’t particularly care if it got him to listen.

“Thank You… Have them disengage and head to my apartment. That’s where the others are heading afterward. The fewer people with the potential to be seen the better.” Jason gave a quick thumbs-up before turning to relay the message to his team.

The actual execution of the plan went as smoothly as Rachel had hoped. She had been burning Blockbuster's shipments for months, and adding a few new players to the board barely made a difference outside of timing.

Soon all three warehouses were ablaze, the sound of roaring fire drowning out the incoming sirens. Troia and KF headed back to her apartment and Red Hood tied up the last of the unconscious henchman as she did a lap around the burning building to make sure all was well.

When she reached the main entrance she was stopped by the sight of a large man, standing near the open door of a car parked in front of the building. His large frame silhouetted by the amber glow. The two stared at one another for a moment, neither moving until the man shut the door behind him and took a few steps closer to her. Allowing Rachel to see his face clearly.

He was tall, taller than Bruce by several inches, and his large frame made him look like a brick wall. He was thinning at the top of his head but still had long blonde hair that came down to his shoulders. Even through his tailored dark blue suit, she could see muscle bulging where the seams were too tight. He wasn’t as large as Bane, but he was certainly a close second.

He in turn looked her up and down, making her feel unbelievably small.

“So you’re the one who's been giving me all the trouble?” She forced herself to relax even as every warning bell in her brain told her not to.

“Sorry about that, I wanted to get your attention but didn’t have your number.” He huffed out a laugh.

“Well, you’ve certainly got it. What's the plan now? Follow me around, catch me tripping up, put me behind bars?” Rachel gave him a considering look.

“Sounds about right.” He took another step towards her and Rachel forced herself not to step back.

“Careful little girl, no big bad Bat to watch your back here.” Rachel cocked her head to side putting on a confused face.

“Was that a threat?” Roland let out another laugh surprising her and taking a step back.

“You won’t get anything on me sweetheart, and even if you did…” The sounds of sirens approaching almost drowned him out. “...They won’t care.” A flash of red caught the corner of her eye, and from her peripheral, she could see Red Hood waiting on the roof where they had first met up on.

“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Blockbuster gave her another appraising look before turning back to his car.

“Yeah sweetheart, I guess we will.” Rachel watched him for a second longer before pulling out her grapple and shooting it upwards. Letting it pull her away just as the cruisers rounded the corner. When she landed she saw Jason peering over the edge, helmet in hand and eyes staring intently at Desmond's back.

“Keep an eye on him. I don’t like how he looked at you.” Rachel rolled her eyes at that.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine Hood.” Finally tearing his gaze away he met her stare, face strangely serious.

“I’m serious Wing. I don’t like the look of him. If shit hits the fan I don’t give a damn about pride call us. Any of us. Just be careful alright?” Part of her bristled at the insinuation that she would need help, but she also remembered Matron's words on arrogance. 

“I’ll call you. If I need help, I’ll call you.” Jason looked back over to Desmond who was chatting to the officers that had arrived.

“That’s all I ask.”

Chapter Text

After the anti-climatic meeting with Desmond and her promise to Jason to call should she need assistance in the future. The two packed up and made their way to Rachel’s apartment to meet with the rest of the Outlaws, as well as Donna and Wally whose warehouse explosions had gone off without a hitch.

Stepping into her apartment she was taken aback by the noise, having grown used to the silence and the solitude. The living room was also unusually warm, the press of many bodies into the small space serving to hide the fact that her heat was still out of commission. 

As soon as the window was shut and the blinds were drawn, Jason removed his helmet, gaze taking in her dilapidated though clean couch, before moving to the suspicious stains on the corner of her ceiling. His face was blank and Rachel couldn’t tell if he was judging the place or not, but she soon relaxed when he finally turned his gaze to her and gave her a smirk.

“Cozy.”

And it was, actually. Donna and Wally stood in her kitchen, the open floor plan allowing them to be seen from the living room as they chatted with Roy and ate some of the leftover Pad Thai Rachel herself had been hoping to get to. Kori was moving slowly around the livingroom, her gaze flicking from the sparse pieces of art Rachel had gotten around to hanging up, to the photographs lining her coffee table. A small pile of photographs sat on her side table and Rachel knew the Tameranian had already been through them as the picture on top showed one of her and Damian from four years ago at an arcade, when Rachel knew it previously showed a picture of her, Cass, and Steph at a Knight’s game. 

It was warm in a way Rachel had been longing for since moving. In a way that she hadn’t been able to manufacturer on her own. She thought about the conversation she had with Tiger months ago, when the two had been talking about what they wanted for themselves in the future. Her mind having gone to the image of a small home with patterned tapestries and plush furniture, a place where stories that were passed down for generations could be shared.

Lately, her apartment had been the inverse, the cold city apartment with only leftovers in the fridge and a first aid kit in the bathroom. It felt like maybe that had been her own fault, as suddenly with people filling its rooms she was closer to the vision she had wanted.

True, her couch was not plush, and the only tapestry she owned sat rolled up in the corner not yet hung. But memories sat on her surfaces instead of case files, which felt important. 

Kori, turned and smiled at them when they entered, her grin widening slightly when Rachel took off her mask.

“It is good to see you Rachel, it has been too long.” It had been, the last time Rachel could remember seeing anyone from the hero community outside of her best friends had been since well before Damian’s death. Rachel gave the woman a warm smile in return.

“Good to see you Kor.” Kori, moved closer to the two, giving Jason a once over to ensure he was alright before pulling Rachel into a hug, which the younger girl sunk into. The warmth that always seemed to radiate off of Kori’s skin seeped into her body, overtaking a chill that Rachel hadn’t even been aware was in her bones. Rachel could hear Jason walk away from the two and head towards the kitchen, but she paid him no mind. Her body craved the touch she hadn’t received in so long.

While she had hugged her family tightly upon her return, they had quickly gone back to their no-touching ways and Rachel no longer felt as comfortable as she once had initiating it.

Eventually Kori pulled back, though still held onto her arms. She looked over Rachel’s face, her brow furrowing for a moment at what she found before smoothing over.

“You look older.”

“I hear that happens when you age.”

“It suits you.” 

Rachel gave her a wink and pulled away from her, pulling her gloves off her hands and sinking into her couch.

“It’s hard work being the hottest Bat, but it’s a cross I’m happy to bear”. Kori tilted her head in confusion, as she often did when she didn’t understand Earth phrases. But after a moment realization settled in and with a chuckle she sat down next to Rachel.

“Yes, well none of your siblings are giving you much competition on that front.” She responded playfully, a wicked glean in her eye that Rachel couldn’t remember seeing before. “Jason is a great warrior, but his appearance leaves much to be desired.”

“Hey!” Jason shouted in indignation as Rachel let out a snort of amusement. Kori’s eyes glinted joyfully.

“You heard the woman Jay, not everyone can have my natural charm and beauty.”

“Natural big head more like it.”

“I disagree Jason,” Kori said, gaze still on Rachel, trailing up and down in appreciation. “I believe your sister's head is perfectly proportionate to the rest of her body.” From the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Jason’s jaw drop as he looked between the two of them, looking akin to a drowned fish. Wally and Donna sniggered from beside him sharing a look that Rachel was unable to decipher. She turned back to Kori.

“You’re officially my favorite.” 

She could hear Jason mumble something that sounded suspiciously like a snark about them flirting in front of him, but she wasn’t able to piece together what he meant as Donna quickly shushed him and turned the conversation to something else.

Another hour passed, most of which was spent catching up to Kori whom Rachel had rarely spent so much time with. The woman had always seemed so much older and grander than Rachel. Always seemed untouchable as her older brother's friend, someone to exchange niceties with and have a fondness for, but someone whose attention was garnered towards people her own age. It was surprising when Rachel realized that the Tameranian was only two years older than Rachel. It was even more surprising that Rachel felt a sort of shared camaraderie with her. The two had been through things that surpassed their age and left something heavy that lingered in their bodies. It was nice, it was new, and Rachel was sad when Jason and Roy saddled up to the two of them with the air of someone about to leave.

“Hate to interrupt.” Jason began, not at all sounding like he meant it “But we should be heading out. Got to make sure we don’t run into any more issues with the seller of your blown-up shipments”. Kori nodded and stood up, with Rachel slowly following after her. 

The hug that she received while saying goodbye was just as warm as the first one and Rachel let herself enjoy it for a moment before Jason let out a cough. Rolling her eyes, Rachel pulled away in time to see Roy give Jason a shit-eating grin before turning to her and pulling her into his own bear hug. 

“Good to see you Rach. Next time we're around save a few words for me, don’t let Kor hog you.” With a smile, Rachel hugged him back. He, unlike Kori, had always been both Rachel and Jason’s friend, and she felt bad not making enough time to see him more often.

“Don’t be a stranger Roy.”

“Right back at you Rob.”

“That’s not her name!” Wally piped up from where he was watching them, with an air of ‘Um, Actually’ about him. Both he and Donna were leaning against her counter, making no move to leave themselves. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you later Wing .” Was his response as he flipped Wally off.

“Now, now children, play nice.” Spoke up Jason, pulling Rachel into a hug of his own. His movement was somewhat frantic, like he wanted to do it before she had the chance to move away. “You need anything Goldie-”

“Call you. I got it Hood.”

“You better kid.” Pulling away he gave her a rough pat on her shoulder pulling on his helmet as the Outlaws made their way to her window. Throwing them a wave he pulled himself out into the Bludhaven night air. “Don’t do anything I would do!”

And with that, they were gone.

With a huff of amusement, Rachel shut the window behind her and turned back to Wally and Donna who were staring at her smugly.  

“What?” The two shared a look, with Wally raising an eyebrow at Donna. Rolling her eyes she turned back to Rachel.

“You and Koriand’r seemed pretty… friendly.” 

“Uh yeah, probably cause we're friends.” Rachel responded, giving her a look. It was Wally’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Oh come on, even you can’t be that oblivious.”

“Be oblivious about what?” At that, Wally looked back at Donna helplessly, which Donna waved away.

“Oblivious that the two of you were hardcore flirting for the last hour straight.” At that Rachel sputtered, her cheeks turning red as she looked between the two.

“We were what ?”

“Oh come on Rach, it was so obvious I thought Jason was going to pop the vein in his head.” Donna replied, coming over to her, her smile gentle but still teasing. “Not to mention that she was completely ogling you in that skintight uniform.” Rachel looked down at her suit which she had yet to take off, finding nothing very sexy about it

“That’s - It’s - I mean don’t be ridiculous, I mean, she’s older than me.”

Wally cut in, also moving over to the two.

“Yeah by two years.” 

Donna nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. How much older than you was Tiger?” Rachel gapped in response, guilt plaguing her at the reminder of the man, though she really wasn’t sure why.

“That’s not the same. Kori is Jason’s friend ok. She’s not interested in me.” 

Wally grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I don’t know Rach, I think she could be your friend too. In fact, I think the two of you could get very friendly.” Donna slapped his arm at that and turned back to Rachel, her gaze softening further as she took in Rachel’s flustered state.

“We’re just teasing. I thought you were aware you were doing it. If it’s any consolation, you could do worse than Koriand’r.”

“Yeah, like a director of a super secret spy organization,” Wally muttered, ducking out of the way when Donna went to slap him again.

Rachel paid them no attention as her mind buzzed around their words. She hadn’t been flirting with Kori, had she ? While true, one had to be blind to not see that the other woman was attractive, Rachel had never thought about it before. In fact, tonight all she had really thought about was how nice it was to get to talk to someone who could kind of understand what she was going through. It had been nice to tease with her and converse with her, and it had been nice to bask in the warmth of her joy and mirth and kindness and-

Fuck. She had been flirting with Kori.

She recalled her meeting with Agent Flores earlier when the other woman had flirted with her. Though she hadn’t been interested she had been flustered. Had been… affected. She had never really noticed women before. But then again, she had never really noticed men before she and Tiger had become intimate. Perhaps it was underexposure when she had been young and in Gotham. Perhaps now that she knew what it was like to be with someone she was more receptive to it. Perhaps she was just lonely, and Tiger was a continent away and she wanted to feel wanted.

“Fuck.” She muttered to herself, burying her face in her hands. “This is a mess.”

“I ship it.”

“Wally!”

The two did not stay much longer after that, letting Rachel stew in her newly discovered gay panic with a sympathetic pat on the back. 

It’s not that she was particularly against the idea of it. It was more that she was just now barely getting a grasp on the person she was and wanted to be. It seemed every time she got closer to understanding herself something came blasting in to upset the peace and leave her wondering how the hell she was supposed to put her pieces back together if she didn’t know what the fucking picture was meant to look like.

Looking out of her window she saw the faint pink gleam of sunlight poking over the horizon and with a sigh, she resigned herself to tackling the day with no sleep. Trying to get any rest at this time would leave her with only an hour of sleep which would in turn leave her more groggy and off-kilter than just powering through the day.

At the very least she took a shower and finally changed from her uniform. Stashing the Nightwing costume under a secret panel in her closet, she swapped it out for a crisp white collared shirt and her Bludhaven EMT jacket. She had just begun making a fresh cup of coffee when a shift in the air caught her attention, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Casually, she set down the canister she had been scoping grounds out of and let her fingers graze off her knife block before grabbing one and turning around with a stab. Immediately a gloved hand caught her wrist and with a twist made her drop the knife, causing it to cling on her tile floor. 

“Damn sweetheart, is this how you treat all your guests or am I just special?”

“Midnighter?”

The man gave her a small smirk, face covered by a familiar cowl as he let go of her arm and widened his arms as though a ringmaster. His black leather trenchcoat gently shifted at the movement. 

“Miss me?” 

For a moment Rachel could only gawk at him, not having seen the man since she left Spyral. She still had the phone he had given her for emergencies, but per his request had not used it to stay in touch, lest he disconnect his number preventing her from calling him should she really need help.

It felt like seeing someone from a dream appear in real life. While Midnighter belonged in the world of spies and assassins with swirling faces, he didn’t necessarily belong in the world of Rachel Grayson or Nightwing. It felt out of place for him to be in her Bludhaven apartment. The shock however swiftly diminished and she felt herself settle into an old role, hip cocked she crossed her arms and leaned back.

“Aw Midnighter, you came all this way to see little old me? Careful someone might think that we’re friends.”

“Nah, friends call one another. You, sweetheart, have been radio silent.” Rachel gave him a confused look at that.

“You told me to call only if I was dying.”

“Or for pictures of Agent Tall Dark and Stoic’s ass. I expected to be spammed out by now, but alas I have received nothing to add to my spank bank.” Rached scrunched her nose in disgust, brushing away the guilt at the mention of Tiger.

“Have you always been this crass, or has time made you more lewd?” Midnighter gave her another smirk, inching closer to her suggestively he patted her cheek.

“Oh sweetheart, you got no idea.” Before she could respond he gave his wrist a flick and a door appeared in her apartment. Nondescript and wooden, already slightly ajar. “Let’s go.” He moved away and without hesitating she followed him, trusting Midnighter despite herself.

“Go where?”

“My husband wants to meet you, and I got some information you may find interesting.”

And well, Rachel wasn’t going to argue with that.

Stepping over the threshold she was immediately met with a bright streak of midmorning sunlight shining through the glass windows of the home she now found herself in. While it was just breaking dawn in Bludhaven, wherever she now was had to be closer to 10 or 11 am. 

The home itself was clean and homey, completely at odds with the image of the dwelling she assumed Midnighter would reside in. Cotton curtains were pulled back allowing her to get a good view of rolling green fields with no other buildings in sight. 

She appeared to be in some old cottage, with wooden beams across the ceiling and linen draping over most things.

“Where are we?”

“France.” Came a voice from behind her and turning around she saw a tall tan man with brilliant white hair spilling just over his shoulders. He was wearing white cotton pants and a light button-down and smiled softly at her. “It’s nice to meet you Rachel, I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

She turned to Midnighter and gave him a sarcastically sweet smile. 

“You talk about me to your husband M?” He gave her a snort and began removing his cowl.

“More like rant about you sweetheart.” Before she could respond his mask was off and Rachel found herself speechless once again.

She had always assumed Midnighter would look like Bruce, as in uniform he resembled a slightly grittier version of the man. However, he surprised her by having a short light brown fade and piercing green eyes. The stubble she usually could see under his cowl, faded up into the sides of his hair, making him look oddly normal.

“Don’t listen to M. If he didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be here.” Apollo stepped closer to her holding out his hand. “I’m Apollo by the way, but you can call me Andrew if you’d like.” She took his offered hand and though his grasp was gentle she could feel the unbridled power beneath his fingertips. Similar to what she often felt from Clark.

“Rachel, which I guess you knew. It’s nice to meet you too.” Andrew gave her another smile and ushered her to the couch, with Midnighter watching the two carefully. It was odd being able to see his face, and she got the sense that he was almost nervous to have her there. “So what’s a nice man like you doing with an asshole like Midnighter?” Andrew let out a surprised laugh and she saw Midnighter quirk his lips slightly, his nerves easing into something more familiar.

“What makes you think that I’m not the nice man and he’s the asshole sweetheart?”

“Because he’s never snuck into my room to hold me hostage, and covered my mouth so I couldn’t yell for help.” Midnighter rolled his eyes and finally sat down with them.

“That happened once.”

“Twice.”

“Once. After you were shot when I was playing messenger for your family.”

“Twice. When you also broke into Spyral's kitchen.” Midnighter gave her a smirk and leaned back, mock thinking.

“If I recall correctly sweetheart.” He said tapping his temple. “That time in the kitchen after you fornicated with lover boy, I didn’t cover your mouth, I put a gun to your head.” Thinking back to what felt like years ago, Rachel thought back to that night and grew frustrated when she realized he was right.

“The point still stands.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, kid.”

Apollo smiled as he watched the two of them banter, a look of contentment on his face and Rachel got the sense it was rare that they allowed anyone in their home like this. With trust and casualness.

“Not that I’m not ecstatic to be here, but I do have to be at work in -” She looked down at her watch. “- 45 minutes and you mentioned needing to tell me something?” Any joviality seemed to diminish at her words and Rachel felt herself sit up straight at the strange tension now in the room. Apollo gave her a small apologetic smile before looking over to Midnighter, standing up.

“I’ll let you two talk.”

It was quiet as he walked out of the room and Rachel wasn’t sure if it was because M was waiting for him to leave, or because he was just trying to figure out how to say whatever he needed to say to her. After a moment of what appeared to be an internal argument with himself, he let out a rough sigh and met Rachel’s gaze.

“Matron’s alive.” Out of all the things she had been expecting, this was not one of them.

“What?” Letting out another breath he reached over to where a pack of cigarettes was sitting next to an ashtray. Rachel waited impatiently as he pulled one out, lit it, and took a deep drag.

“Matron is alive. My contacts informed me that she is being held by Checkmate.” The name was familiar and almost immediately she remembered the stories Tiger told her of his old partner killed by his previous agency.

“But what do they want with her?” Midnighter gave her a look as though she should already know the answer, which she supposed she did. “They're questioning her about Spyral.”

“About Spyral. About the Paragon. About their old asset Agent 1. My guess is the only reason she’s still alive is because she hasn’t talked. But I wouldn’t bet on that lasting forever.”

“Where are they keeping her?” Midnighter gave her a shrug, annoyingly casual, however, she could see the steel in his gaze betraying his anger. She wondered just how much she missed from him because she hadn’t been able to see his face.

“Don’t know. But at the very least you got a status and a name. Figured you’d want to pass that one to your Boy Toy so he could order his agents to find her.” Like earlier in the night, the mention of Tiger caused a flash of uncertainty to run through her, however, this time Midnighter caught on to it. Any tension he held seeped from his body as he smirked at the potential gossip. “Trouble in paradise?” Andrew walked back into the room, perhaps alerted to the change of tone. Perhaps he was an empath ? Rachel felt her cheeks flush at the question and if possible Midnighters smirk grew deeper. “Don’t tell me Agent Lover Boy is available?” Apollo gave him an unimpressed look, though the quirk of his lips betrayed him.

“Don’t be a dick.” 

Before M could respond Rachel interrupted.

“It’s complicated.” Andrew turned his gaze to her and gave her an understanding nod.

“Long distance can be a bitch.”

“I think I like women!” Rachel didn’t know why she blurted it out, perhaps because it had been festering in her mind for the entire day. But as soon as she said it a shocked look appeared on Andrew's face followed by a surprised and boisterous laugh from Midnighter who grinning, took another drag of his cigarette.

“Damn.” 

Rachel felt the need to clarify.

“I mean… Like in tandem with men.”

“Kinky.”

“No. I mean-”. Apollo snapped from his stupor and took pity on her.

“Stop teasing her M.”

“Fuck that. I don’t see the kid for months and her life turns into a shitty spinoff of “But I’m a Cheerleader.” Who knew that without Spyral you were actually interesting, kid? Is this why things are rocky with you and Agent 1? He not up to sharing?”

“He doesn’t know.” Not liking how that sounded Rachel pressed on. “I haven’t done anything. That's not why… Things have been off for a while you know, we’re both busy and far away and I can’t help but feel that I’m a completely different person from who I was at Spyral and maybe he doesn’t want that. But also it just feels over you know?... And now apparently all these women are flirting with me and that's fucking confusing, and this… all of this is just a nightmare.” She finished miserably and it was a testament to how pitiful she looked that Midnighter didn’t make another joke.

Andrew set his hand on hers and gave it a tight squeeze, waiting kindly for her to meet his gaze.

“It sounds like you may need to speak to Agent 1 before figuring the rest of all this out.” It sounded simple, breaking it down to one step at a time, and though she dreaded it she nodded in agreement.

“I think you might be right.” She turned back to Midnighter who was just finishing up his cigarette. “Anything else I need to know or could you send me back?” With a snap of his fingers, a door appeared and all three stood up. 

She felt herself be pulled into a hug by Andrew and she returned it in surprise.

“It truly was nice meeting you Rachel, don’t be a stranger, despite what M said that phone doesn’t need to just be for emergencies.” She gave him a tight squeeze, appreciating the man she just met and knowing he was genuine in his invitation. Turning back to Midnighter he watched her blankly.

“Don’t be expecting a hug from me Dorthoy.”

She gave him a fond grin, hand already on the doorknob.

“Never Tin Man.” And pushing the door open she was met with the cold stale air of her own apartment as the portal disappeared behind her.

She knew she was going to be late to work, but also knew if she didn’t call Tiger now she wouldn’t have the confidence to do it later. Besides, every moment she waited was a moment Matron could be killed.

He picked up on the third ring and Rachel wasted no time telling him about Checkmate and Matron. The news of which he received wearily with an undercurrent of anger. Nor was he impressed about the impromptu break-in of Midnighter into her apartment, though he only made a brief comment on that. Soon enough he was up to speed and though Rachel would love to be the one to find their old boss, she was learning that not all battles were hers to fight, and knew that Tiger would have more luck than her with the whole of Spyral backing his searches. 

All too soon the two found themselves in an uncomfortable silence and after a moment Tiger prodded her.

“Is there anything else you wanted to speak about Rachel?” The question held with it a weight that told her Tiger already knew what she was going to say, it didn’t make it any easier though.

“I don’t think this is working.” From the other end, Tiger let out a sigh one that almost sounded like relief.

“I know, I don’t either.”

“It’s not-” She began, only to be gently cut off.

“I know.” And Rachel could tell he was being truthful. There was a shared understanding that the camaraderie that was shared and the intimacy gained while at Spyral's headquarters had diminished quickly after Rachel had gone stateside. It wasn’t the same and neither was to blame for that. It didn’t negate the fact that Tiger had been like a lifeline to Rachel while at Spyral, but it seemed that both had grown past it.

“So… We’re good?” Even over the phone, she could sense his smile and she relaxed at it even before he could speak.

“Yes Rachel, we are good.”

“Friends?” He let out a small chuckle at that causing Rachel to grin.

“Of course … And Rachel, if you need anything-.” He hadn’t been the first one to offer that today, and Rachel was slowly realizing just how many people she could depend on. Looking around her empty apartment, she felt the warmth she had felt earlier that night remain, even standing in it alone.

“You too. See you around Tony.” With an aggrieved noise she could tell he didn’t mean, he responded back.

“See you around Rachel.”

And with that, a weight was lifted.

She was so late to work.

She knew she would be, with the all-nighter crashing into the impromptu Midnighter visit and Tiger phone call. Rachel felt more exhausted than she had in years, and it wasn’t just because she was working on 0 hours of sleep.

She stumbled into the station nearly 15 minutes late, and it was only because she had been smart enough to pick up Renee a lavender oat milk latte that she wasn’t completely reamed for it. Her timing however was impeccable, for nearly as soon as she had set down her bag a call had come in.

A shoot-out near the westside steel mill. Both Roland and Bolton's men shot. It seemed the gang war that everyone had been afraid of was kicking off, and just a day after Mozy Bolton's murder.

The two were quick to head out, they would be the only ambulance on site but based on the reports most of the victims would be heading off in a body bag anyway.

When they arrived at the crime scene they were met by Amy who gave them the run down with a grave look.

“Bolton’s people aren't happy, seems like they kicked off this whole thing. Dozens dead, we pulled the handful of saviors to the side alley for treatment. They're not talking, they're refusing to go to the hospital, but they’ve agreed to be looked at. None of them are carrying so you're safe to do what you can.” Both Rachel and Renee responded with a curt nod and Rachel followed after her supervisor. 

It appeared that the main shooting occurred in a parking lot off of 9th, with dozens of bodies and about 5 cars taped off, covered in bullet holes and blood. The scene was gruesome but Rachel had seen worse and so turned her attention to the surly men, sitting in the alley, watching them in apprehension.

No one spoke but they did allow the two women to begin treatment and so Rachel got to work stitching up bullet wounds. Feeling more like a trauma response team than an EMT.

For a while they just worked, the men slinking off one by one as they finished with them. Not being stopped by any of the officers on duty, though Rachel could see Officer Rohrbach glowering after them in frustration. 

Eventually, Renee was working on the last man, and with a quiet dismissal she sent Rachel back to the ambulance. Before she could make it there she was stopped by a familiar voice.

“Fancy seeing you here.” The tone was oddly casual despite the circumstances and Rachel felt put off by the smirk Agent Flores was giving her when she turned around. Barely taking note of the stacks of bodies surrounding them.

“Agent Flores-”

“Catalina, please.”

“Catalina.” Rachel acquiesced feeling out of place and unusually small under the piercing gaze directed at her. Finally, Catalina looked around, not at all concerned with the state of the crime scene.

“Guess we know who called that hit on Mozy Bolton. Half the bodies here belong to Desmond.” There was a disgust to her tone that told Rachel she thought little of the lackeys who had died. It left a sour taste in her mouth. More often than not henchmen were just people desperate for money. It was the ring leaders who took advantage of it.

“It’s sad to see loss of life on this scale.” 

Catalina gave her a condescending look, as though she was a child that didn’t understand the realities of the world. It made Rachel bristle. 

“You didn’t call.” The statement came from out of nowhere leaving her dumbfounded.

“What?” 

Catalina’s whole attention was on Rachel again and she took a step closer.

“You didn’t call. I gave you my card, waited by the phone all night.”

“You gave me your card yesterday.”

“I’m not a patient woman.”

“I was busy.”

“Too busy for me?” Rachel didn’t know how to respond to that, feeling out of her depth. Catalina appeared to notice and gave her a grin, akin to a cat with a canary. “Lucky for you I’m free tonight, how bout dinner?” Rachel hesitated, while true she was technically free and did find Catalina to be attractive, something in her words and smile gave her unease, and Rachel had long learned to trust her gut.

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you.” A startled look appeared on Catalina’s face as though she hadn’t expected the rejection or had indeed ever received one before. She quickly smothered it however with another smirk. Taking another step closer to Rachel they were nearly face to face as Catalina placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder and slowly slid it down her arm.

“I understand, you're nervous…young. But if you give me a chance you’ll see just how persuasive I can be.”

“You’re very forward.”

“Only when I want something.” Rachel bristled again at the insulation she was a thing instead of a person. Pulling her arm away she took a step back from Catalina, a tight smile on her lips.

“Then I guess you're going to be disappointed.” An annoyed look crossed Catalina’s face and she opened her mouth to speak only for a sharp voice to sound out behind them.

“I’d think you’d have better things to do than chat up an EMT.” Both women turned to see Amy stalking up to them. With a severe look on her face as she took in Catalina, despite herself Rachel felt herself relax at her presence. Catalina for her part glared at the other women though took a step back from Rachel.

“I was just being friendly Officer Rohrbach.”

“To an eighteen-year-old.” Amy pointed out, tone insinuating something. “How old are you again?” Catalina’s frown deepened a complete 180 from the disposition she had earlier.

“Watch yourself Officer, I still outrank you.” Was her response, sounding dangerously close to a threat. Before turning on her heel and stalking away to the other officers watching them curiously. After a moment Amy let out a sigh and turned to look at Rachel while reaching up to tie her long black braids behind her head.

“You good Grayson?”

For reasons she couldn’t articulate the question made Rachel feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. Like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have.

“Yeah. It was nothing.” Amy continued to give her a long look, clearly not believing her, but she softened slightly as she read Rachel's discomfort. Flicking her gaze back to Catalina, her frown returned.

“I’ve heard rumors about Agent Flores and I trust her about as far as I can throw her.” She turned her gaze back to Rachel once again almost maternal, like it had been last night. “She does anything that makes you uncomfortable call me okay? I don’t care if she’s FBI, I’ll deal with it.”

“It really was nothing.” Rachel pressed, wanting to be done with the whole affair. Amy made a small noise of disagreement but before she could respond a static buzz filled the air coming from the walkie sitting on Amy’s shoulder.

“Calling all available officers, we’ve got a code 11-80, requesting officer assist and ambulance.” Both sprung into action, and Rachel quickly made her way back to Renee who was just finishing up.

“We got an accident, major injuries, we got to go.”

The scene of the accident was smaller than the shooting, but just as disastrous. Two cars had collided with one another, one had flipped, and the other had gone careening off the road. The car that went off-road was void of a driver, but one could soon be found several feet away, most likely dead on impact. Or at least Rachel hoped that had been the case.

The car that had been flipped held an older woman in the driver's seat, still conscious though barely. She mumbled quietly to herself as the responders set to get her out, a startling amount of blood pouring down her face and in her white hair from a cut on her head.

By the time Renee and Rachel had gotten her in the ambulance, she was unconscious and Rachel set to work stopping the bleeding as Renee sped them towards the nearest hospital. 

The woman was in rough shape, her frail body broken by the sharp impact of a car going into hers. The seatbelt left an already bruising line across her chest and her collarbone was broken from the impact. Head wounds always bled a lot and thankfully it wasn’t deep, though it would be a surprise if she didn’t have a concussion. Scrapes and cuts littered the old woman’s body, but Rachel would’ve believed she’d make it through if not for the heart attack.

Rachel tried, she truly tried to save her, issuing rescue breaths in time with compressions for 5 minutes as they continued to drive to the hospital. The sternum broke after a while, filling the air with an awful snap, but still, Rachel tried. Until they arrived and the patient was scooped away from them.

The two stayed in the building, partially to fill out the necessary paperwork and partially to see if the old woman would make it. Rachel could tell Renee was kindly humoring her, as this was by far the worst cause the two had gotten since Rachel joined.

The guilt that Rachel felt when they were told the old woman died was immediate, and caught quickly by Renee.

“Don’t.” The older women began, gaze unusually soft. “It’s not your fault. We can’t save them all.” It was something she had heard before, and while both Robin and Nightwing had faced many losses, Rachel Grayson had not.

“What happens now?” Renee shrugged, though not unkindly.

“We wait for the next call. We try to save the next one.”

“And her?” Rachel asked, pointing to the way the old woman had been taken.

“I heard the doctors mention a son, I think they’re telling him now.” Almost immediately the statement was met with an inhuman wail from just outside the waiting room. Followed by the double doors crashing open and a familiar looming figure bursting through.

She had seen Roland Desmond the night before, but without looking through her domino mask he seemed that much more terrifying.

Immediately he locked gazes with her and Renee and took a threatening step forward.

“You brought her in! You didn’t save her!” He took another step forward but another figure darted in front of them and the sound of a gun’s safety clicking off filled the room.

“Careful Desmond, wouldn’t want to do something stupid in front of an FBI agent.” The relief of Catalina was quickly met with distrust in Rachel's mind. 

Was she following me ? 

But the question was at present, unimportant, as Desmond still looked inches away from throttling them all. His gaze sharply darted back and forth before all of them before he let out a snarl and slammed his fist into the wall, cracking the plaster. Swinging his arm around he pointed at the two EMTs, gaze burning.

“This is your fault.” He growled, the vibrations of it shaking Rachel’s spine. “And you’ll pay for this.” Then he stormed out, doors crashing behind him with a slam.

For a moment it was silent, nurses and doctors staring at them in terror and pity. As though they were dead men walking. Finally, Renee let out a shaky breath and ran her hand through her hair.

“Fuck.”

Rachel couldn’t help but agree.

***************************************

Bruce had never known peace.

He thought he had. In the moments he had adopted his children before Jason’s death. The calm and the love that surrounded him when with them. He thought that was peace. But it always was marred by his nighttime activities, his vengeance, and his anger.

Peace came when he gave that up. When he removed his cowl for the last time it felt like more than just the weight of his cape had been taken off. Suddenly for the first time in years, Bruce could breathe, he could rest, he could sleep.

There were still moments of heaviness of course. In memories of who he’d been and what he’d done. In the nights when he couldn’t fall asleep because all he could think about were his children, out there risking their lives without him. In those moments he itched for a comm so he could hear what was happening, provide advice should it be needed, and be ready to go if backup was required. But he never let himself get that far. 

Like an addict, he knew that if he tasted a little he would be drawn to the rest. He and his therapist spoke about it at length. That there could be no growth under Batman and to prevent himself from losing Bruce Wayne he had to let all that go. Permanently.

So yes, he still worried, and yes he was still heavy at times. But more often than not, there was peace. Especially when he got to see one of his children.

None of them lived in the Manor anymore, though Damian was back more often than before to go to the cave. It was not uncommon to see one of them wandering the Manor halls every day for some unspecified amount of time. He never felt alone, especially with Alfred there. But it was still rare that he got to spend one-on-one time with any of them.

Even rarer it was Rachel.

Their relationship had grown stronger than Bruce could ever have hoped but it was still rocky. Especially as Rachel spent most of her free time in Bludhaven, only coming home occasionally for the weekly family dinners he had brought back. Even then she had missed a handful of them. But she had texted him that evening that she was on her way and wanted to see him and Bruce had of course agreed.

Had he still been Batman perhaps he would have been paranoid at the sudden visitation. But as it was he was just grateful it was happening at all.

When she arrived it was clear something was wrong.

Since moving to Bludhaven she always looked exhausted. Dark bags hung under her eyes and a weary pride lingered in her body. It was the familiar look of one trying to turn a city on their side. Though cause for concern it was easily placated with a small but genuine smile from her.

Today a new heaviness weighed her down, one that screamed of guilt, though Bruce wasn’t sure for what. It was also clear that she was running on even less sleep than usual. Her tan skin sunken in a waxy palour, and blue eyes shining and red. After sharing a quick look with Alfred the two set to work, preparing a cup of tea and sitting her down at the table.

It was a testament to whatever state she was in that she did not argue.

When all was settled Alfred left, leaving the two to their own devices. For a while both just quietly drank tea. The Bruce from before would have already started interrogating her, which would have sent her running away. Now he was content in simply being there for her, allowing her time to gather her thoughts before speaking. 

When she did speak, she didn’t look at him.

“One of our calls died today.”

Rachel was an EMT which had relieved Bruce immensely as he knew she had been looking at police departments before her death.

“I’m sorry.” He was, human life was valuable, it was a shame when it was lost.

“I couldn’t save her.” His immediate reaction was to assuage her but knew it would not help not when he didn’t know all the details. She would not take it at face value.

“What happened?”

“Car accident.” She responded quietly, playing with the spoon in her cup. “Car hit her right on, flipped her over. She was old, broke a few bones.”

“And the other driver?” 

“Went off-road, then through the windshield, died on impact.” Bruce flinched at that, it was a rough way to go. 

“Did she die on impact too?”

“No. Had a heart attack on the way in. I tried to revive her, but I think it was too much for her.” Bruce nodded and took a sip of his tea.

“That’s not your fault.”

“Her son thinks so.” Something in her tone alerted Bruce to a subtext that he didn’t yet understand.

“Her son?”

“Roland Desmond.” The name was familiar and for a moment Bruce went into his mind’s rolodex before realization hit him.

“The drug lord?” Rachel nodded giving him a bitter smile, finally meeting his eyes. 

“Said we’d ‘pay for not saving her’.” Alarm bells immediately went off in Bruce’s mind and for a second he didn’t know how to react. Past him would’ve demanded she leave Bludhaven and stay in the Manor until the situation resolved. (Ensuring she would do the opposite and put herself in even more danger). Past him would have also started researching Desmond and getting him charged on something to lock him away so he couldn’t hurt her. But he couldn’t do that now either.

“Are you worried?”

“No.” There was a hesitation in the word which betrayed her true feelings.

“Rachel-”

“-I can take care of it. Okay?” The response was so defensive that Bruce immediately put up his hands in surrender.

“I trust you.” Rachel blinked back in surprise, no doubt still unused to Bruce’s easy deference. He had already fucked up their relationship once, he wasn’t going to do it again .

“You trust me?” Bruce nodded lowering his hands.

“I trust you.” Rachel watched him for a moment, looking for a sign of a lie. When she didn’t find one she let out a breath, shoulders relaxing a hair. “What are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I gotta lock Desmond up. I’ve been working him already and maybe with him emotional he’ll slip up.”

Or he’ll be more volatile.  Was Bruce’s thought, though he didn’t voice it. He needed to tread carefully, needed to have the patience to do so. Needed to support Rachel without alienating her.

“We’ve talked about my first year in Gotham.” It wasn’t a question, but Rachel nodded anyway. “I’d been handling muggings and assaults for a while. Even started inching into murders though Gordon couldn't stand me at that point. After the League, after Ras, it was all pretty by the books. Easy. I’m not too proud to admit I had an ego, thought I was untouchable.”

“Arrogant.” Rachel said though it seemed more like she was reciting what someone once told her as opposed to asking him. 

“Very. I acted like I was untouchable until I ran into this man, Alfred Stryker.” He knew the name would not be familiar to Rachel, or in fact to any of his children. It had been dead and buried years before they had arrived. “He was huge, a behemoth, nearly as big as Bane with the temper of a spoiled child. He killed a few of his employees and I assumed I could take him, I assumed he posed no threat.”

“What happened?”

“He beat me up.” Bruce said so plainly that Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. Bruce in turn smiled a little at the reaction. “In retrospect not the worst beating I’ve received but it was humiliating.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went to Gordon, asked for help which he gave begrudgingly. We cornered him-”

“-And you arrested him?” Bruce shook his head. 

“No. He fell into a pit of acid and died.” Rachel stared at him blankly for a moment, before letting out an unamused snort.

“Fucking Gotham.” Bruce was inclined to agree. “So what, the moral of this story is that I should fight Blockbuster in an Ace Chemical plant?” Definitely not, while Bruce no longer felt guilt at Stryker's death that hadn’t always been the case. It took years to recognize the death hadn’t been his fault.

“The moral of the story is that I made a mistake and learned from it. That when I needed help I asked.” Rachel immediately understood what he was saying and an affronted look crossed her face.

“Clearly it was a lesson that didn’t stick.” The words hurt and Bruce didn’t hide that they did. Almost immediately Rachel’s face twisted in regret.

“Sorry, that was mean. It’s just…. Everyone is treating me like I can’t handle things myself. I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t say that you don’t but Rachel…. Just because you can handle it alone, doesn’t mean you should .”

***************************************

Bruce’s words followed Rachel all the way back to Bludhaven and through her first half of patrol.

It’s not that she didn’t appreciate that people wanted to help her. Of course, she did, but she still couldn’t help but feel like it was a judgment on her skill level. It wasn’t rational, and Rachel resolved that if she truly got in too deep she would reach out for a helping hand. But she wanted to at least try swimming without the assumption that she would immediately sink.

Patrol was quiet, quieter than usual.

The death of Desmond’s Mother, mixed with the shoot-out ensured no citizens were out on the street that night. Any criminal was also tucked away, planning retaliation or just not willing to risk running into an irate and grieving Blockbuster.

It wasn’t until she was ready to turn in for the night that anything new happened.

Nightwing felt the eyes on her back before she saw who was watching her. She moved from rooftop to rooftop and after a while spotted a lean black shape following behind her. Unaware that they had been caught. The individual was fit but not skilled, stumbling on their landings, and doing an abysmal job of keeping quiet. Rachel allowed the stalking to go unnoticed for a while before she circled back around to corner the individual.

Sneaking up behind them Rachel saw that it was a woman, her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail like Rachel's. From the back, she could see the woman was wearing a muted orange crop top with black stripes. Orange gloves and gauntlets covered her hands up to her elbows, and strapped to her black leggings was a gun holster.

Tackling into her, Rachel threw the woman into the rooftop wall and spun her around so that they were face to face.

“Not that I’m not flattered you're interested in little old me, but stalking is not the way to a vigilante’s heart.” The woman for her part shook her surprise at getting caught quickly before a eerily familiar smirk was directed towards Rachel.

“Maybe I just like the view from behind.” She cooed giving Rachel a suggestive look.

Oh my God, it’s the FBI Agent.

An orange domino mask was stretched across Catalina’s eyes, but the lipstick was the same and the comments were on par with what had been thrown at Rachel earlier. Not wanting to clue in Catalina that she knew, Rachel pressed her arm tighter to the other woman's throat and lowered her tone almost imperceivably.

“Who are you?” Catalina let out a huff of annoyance when Nightwing didn’t play along with her flirting but answered regardless.

“The name's Tarantula, and I’ve been looking for you.” Rachel hadn’t heard of the name before, or of any hint that another vigilante was running Bludhaven.

“Why?”

“I heard you were going after Blockbuster. I want in.”

Chapter Text

Roland Desmond was pissed.

On that, the whole of Bludhaven could agree. Though whether due to the passing of his Mother a few weeks prior or the ongoing deterioration of his trafficking operations at the hands of Nightwing, no one was sure. Many speculated it was both.  

Rachel could not be bothered by the rare exhibition of gossip heard in alleyways and across sticky bar hightops throughout Bludhaven. She had thrown herself into her work with a vigor that was as impressive as it was alarming. If anyone asked she would tell them it was because she wanted to trip up Blockbuster while he was spirling, wanted to use his blind rage and grief-addled mind against him to finally take him off the street.

If anyone asked she would not say it was her own guilt and grief propelling her forward. She would not talk about how she visited the old woman's grave at least twice a week with unspoken apologies on her lips. She would not say that Blockbuster's anger at the hospital rattled her and that she had been spending more nights perched on Renee’s roof watching over her, than in her own bed.

The warmth that had emanated in Rachel's apartment two weeks ago when her friends filled its walls had vanished. In part because Rachel had been sidestepping requests for visits and had all but isolated herself in an attempt to bring Blockbuster down.

She would also not share that her vigor was in part fueled by the persistent and aggressive tail she found following her on most patrols. Tarantula had not taken Rachel's refusal to work together to heart, and the woman could often be found jumping into Nightwing’s battles halfway through. Making the whole affair more difficult as Rachel had to spend most of her fights making sure the inexperienced vigilante wasn’t killed by a wayward mugger in her attempt to be helpful.

Catalina similarly seemed to impose herself on Rachel's civilian life as well. She had taken to spending several days not at the police station but on calls with Rachel and Renee. Stated that the FBI took the threat against their lives very seriously and as the lead agent on the case against Roland Desmond, Catalina vowed to make sure they did not come to harm during her investigation.

Rachel and Renee had shared a look at that, and while nothing was spoken, Rachel did notice Renee playing interference more often than not. She Distracted Catalina when she tried to speak to Rachel on a personal level and asked the agent for help even when not needed so Rachel could do her work without the woman leering over her shoulder.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

Rachel had spent last spring assumed dead, working for an evil spy organization. She could handle handsy women and raging drug lords. Which is why her eye definitely did not twitch as she noticed a familiar figure darting across the roof behind her as she surveyed the harbor.

“It took me an hour to find you. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were avoiding me.”

Know better.

“Go home Tarantula.”

“And leave you all alone with the big bad? Not a chance.” Tarantula sat down next to Nightwing, hand trailing up to her shoulders to press into it. “You’re too young to be this tense Querida.” She purred into Rachel’s ear, either purposefully or frustratingly obtuse to the fact she was not wanted. Rachel shook her off.

“I don’t like being stalked.” 

Catalina tsked pulling her hand away though not at all bothered by Nightwings curt response. Sometime upon meeting, Catalina realized that despite her experience, Nightwing was younger than her. She had taken to dismissing any of Rachel's quips as that of a petulant child.

“I’m not stalking you, I’m helping you.” Finally, she pulled her gaze away from Nighting and looked down at the harbor where men were converging near a dock, waiting for the boat that was just now sailing into the port. “Stopping another shipment?” 

Rachel let out a sigh and handed the binoculars she was using to Tarantula who took them without question. Rachel had found it was better to give her all the information on the raids, as Catalina was going to go in after her anyway. It was already hard enough to deal with an inexperienced vigilante at her side, she did need to worry about an uninformed one as well.

“What are they shipping?”

“Snakebite.”

“Which is?”

“An offshoot of Venom.” 

Catalina gave her a look that was both fond and bemused.

“Not all of us are from Gotham Miel.” Rachel closed her eyes and sent a silent thank you up to the gods that her family, for all their faults, had always at least done their homework before patrol.

“It’s like tricked-up adrenaline. Promotes aggression and heightened senses, also known for curating tunnel vision which makes the user complete whatever task they’ve set to no matter the cost.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It also destroys the heart and breaks down your red blood cells to the point of anemia.”

“Less fun.” Catalina pulled down the binoculars and handed them back to Rachel. Standing up she swept her arm out, indicating to the boat which was just now docking. “After you Nightwing.” Rachel also stood up and pulled out her grapple hook as she shot Tarantula a piercing look.

“Stay out of the way and don’t destroy anything.”

“Why? Wanna get a taste of this Snakebite yourself?” Catalina sattled closer to Rachel, running a hand up her thigh with a grin. “You know spider bites are so much better.” Rachel closed her eyes again and after taking a deep breath removed Catalina’s hand from off her.

“We need to leave the shipment for the police. Without any evidence, they’ll just let them go.” again .

Catalina snorted at that and took a step back, taking out her own grappling hook which was more crude than Rachel's.

“Hon, they’ll let them go with evidence. In Bludhaven the only way to get in jail is to get on someone's bad side.” There was a bitter part of Rachel that agreed with the sentiment. But a larger part knew that change came through persistence and a dismantling of the old guard. Which was the whole reason she had come to this city in the first place.

“Well then, let's make it hard for them to ignore the evidence.”

She swung down without waiting for Tarantula and threw herself at the men who had just started to unload the shipment.

This had become a familiar activity for Nightwing the last few weeks, and so it took little effort to knock everyone out and get them secured. While Bludhaven was arguably worse off than Gotham, its henchmen had not yet gained insight on how to handle a vigilante, much less a Bat. Where Gothamites knew to be weary of the shadows and not underestimate the young acrobat, Desmond’s men had not yet learned that lesson. Half of the lot had been taken down before they even realized they’d been ambushed. The other half had quickly drawn their pistols only to be pulled into the shadows and knocked unconscious.

Tarantula, for all her inexperience, managed to take down a few men though much more unrefrained than Nightwing had. Rachel had only needed to step in once when the ship captain lunged at Catalina with a knife without her noticing.  

The whole of it had hardly taken five minutes and soon the harbor was once again silent, though this time occasionally punctuated with the occasional grown. Throwing a couple of cuffs to Tarantula, Rachel pressed the comm in her ear to connect to Oracle. 

“My, my, my, a call from the elusive Nightwing? I feel like I’ve won the lottery.” Rachel winced at that, having been near radio silent the last few weeks. Only calling Barbara for a few pick-ups here and there.

“I’m hardly a prize O.”

“Mhmm… What can I do for you Girl Wonder? Another present for the BPD?”

“You got it. I even gift-wrapped them this time. Left little bows and everything.”

“I’m sure they’ll love it.” Came Oracles deadpanned response which caused Rachel to smile softly to herself. “Still hanging on to your shadow?” Rachel looked over to where Catalina was cuffing the last henchman and letting out a sigh she leaned against one of the pillars on the dock.  Barbara had been notified of her tail in part because Rachel wanted to make sure Catalina hadn’t traced Nightwing back to her civilian life. 

“Yeah, just call me ‘Peter Pan’.”

“Peter Pan notoriously loses his shadow.”

“Just call me ‘another fictional character known for hanging on to their shadow’.”

“That feels like a mouth full.” Rachel let out a sharp laugh which Tarantula clocked immediately, red lips turning up into a smirk as she made her way over.

“I should go. Still have to run some patrol before I can shake her.”

“Alright… Before you go, you should know Spoilers on her way.”

Rachel frowned and straightened up from where she had been leaning.

“On her way where?”

“On her way there.”

“O-”

“-I know. Barbara interrupted, sounding only half apologetic. “Everyone’s worried about you N. You haven’t been to Gotham in ages, you haven’t talked to anyone, you’ve blacked your comms. When you pull up the Bludhaven news the only thing they're talking about is the impending gang war. They’re worried.”

“I’m fine.” Barbara made a noise at that but didn’t outright disagree. “ETA?”

“If I had to guess, a minute or two.”

“O!”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, it was either Spoiler or Batman” Rachel thought about Damian swooping in at any moment and the knot in her stomach tightened at that. For a moment she didn’t respond and Oracle sighed on her end, voice going unusually soft. “You need to talk to him N.”

“I know…I’ll call him later okay?” Even to her own ears, it didn’t sound sincere, but Oracle didn’t call her out on it.

“Okay. Get out of there. Police are on their way and the last thing you need is to be in their line of sight.”

“Thanks, Oracle.”

“Anytime Girl Wonder.”

Hanging up Rachel finally turned her attention back on Tarantula, who was only a few feet away, watching her curiously.

“Whose Oracle?” Yeah, I’m not telling you that . Without responding Rachel began walking off the dock and back to the warehouses lining the shore. “Should I be jealous you have someone whispering into your ear all night?” Rachel rolled her eyes, not looking back as Catalina followed her.

“Police are on their way.”

“And again I ask, why are we calling the police when they’ll just let them go?” Rachel had half a mind to point out that Catalina herself was an FBI agent but didn’t. She had been pretending not to know Catalina’s secret identity for the sake of protecting hers. Climbing up a fire escape she made her way to the building roof just in time to see police sirens going off in the distance.

“What would you have us do instead?”

“Deal with them ourselves.”

Slowly Nightwing turned to look at Tarantula, the other women meeting her gaze head-on as if there was nothing alarming about her suggestion.

“It’s not our job to play judge, jury, and executioner.”

“But it is our job to play crusader?” That… was fair.

“No ones arguing that we are not already fundamentally crossing a line by executing the law ourselves. But it’s one thing to help a failing system, and it's another to replace the system with our own brand of justice without any oversight.” 

It was a mentality not created by Spyral, but bolstered by it surely. Rachel had spent a long time contemplating the ethics of being a hero, what it meant to take the law into your own hands. It seemed the line for her, was if her actions helped her community. It was one thing to stop a robbery of a Mom & Pop shop, it was another to punish the robber herself. It was why she aimed to incapacitate her adversaries and not break them. 

She had a healthy dose of skepticism with police forces and other institutions that had the ability to abuse power and put down the people they were supposed to protect. She had seen corruption and brutality and knew the dangers of taking on that power. But she had always been community-focused. It was her job to protect the people, it was not her job to speak for them.

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to deal with them ourselves? Especially if we already know they’re going to be released with no consequences?” Catalina pressed, not backing down. 

“And how would you recommend we do that?” Catalina shrugged, though a dangerous look crossed her face.

“Fear works harder than hope.” It was a vague statement, but Rachel didn’t care for the insinuation. 

“Maybe. But I don’t prefer it.” Catalina gave her a pitying look, similar to the one she had given Rachel at the shoot-out. “We have to work within this system while we work to change it. It… it sucks to see something and know it’s broken. But that doesn’t mean that I alone know how it should be fixed. You give a voice to your community and you work to promote change with others. Not just by yourself. One person having all that power is dangerous, no matter who that person is.”

“You are putting all your belief in the hope that things will work out in the end, because that's the right thing.” Catalina closed the difference and went to grab Rachel's face. For a moment, Rachel thought about slapping the hand away but that would only make Catalina more persistent. “You’re naive Queidra. You’re lucky to have me.” Rachel felt her jaw tense in irritation as she fought to remain still.

“Personally. I think I work better alone.” Catalina took another step closer, bodies nearly pressing together as she smirked.

“But then you wouldn’t get to spend time with me.”

It was interesting, Rachel thought as she felt the flush of anger rush on her face. Catalina wielded her flirtation like a weapon. Rachel had felt it on both ends, as Nightwing and herself. At night, as Tarantula, it almost seemed reflexive, as though the woman's default was to do it. During the day as Catalina, it was more intentional. It was clear that Catalina wanted Rachel, it was clear that Tarantula was just using Nightwing.

Rachel would not let herself be used. By anyone.

“Let go.” Rachel said slowly and without any inflection. Already garring up to smack the hand away and remind Tarantula that out of the two of them, Nightwing had the most experience.

Perhaps unsensing the impending danger, Tarantula’s grip tightened.

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“I’d listen to her if I were you.” Came a short clipped response to their left, both Tarantula and Rachel looked over at the unexpected voice and Rachel felt herself relax just a fraction at the sight of Spoiler looking down at them. The older girl was standing casually but Rachel could see a fierce streak of protectiveness as Stephanie gleared at Catalina’s hand on Rachel’s face. “Nightwing packs a mean punch. I’d hate to see your lipstick get smeared.” Catalina glowered at that and let go of Rachel, but did not step away.

“And who are you?”

Stephanie gave her a smile and jumped down to get closer to them. Sandwiching herself between Tarantula and Rachel in a way that wasn’t even trying to be inconspicuous. Despite her desire for independence, Rachel appreciated the backup.

“I could ask you the same thing. New partner N?”

“We’re working together-”

“Ah, ah, ahh.” Stephanie interrupted wagging a finger in front of Catalina’s face. “I was asking Nightwing.” She turned to look back at Rachel, steel gaze softening just a fraction. “New partner?” Rachel shook her head.

“No.” 

Stephanie tsked, turning her gaze back to Tarantula.

“Then I guess that means you should go.”

An enraged look crossed Catalina’s face as she squared her shoulders and went to move forward.

“I do not take orders from-” In an instant the baton that usually sat on Spoiler’s side was grabbed and elongated. Without waiting for her to finish her sentence, Stephanie swiped the quarterstaff across Catalina’s jaw and then again at her ankles, sending the other woman down to the rooftop hard.

“Bye-bye now.” Stephanie sang waving her hand down at Tarantula.

It was clear she was furious, but perhaps knowing when to pick her battles and when to lick her wounds, Catalina skittered off, sending a glare Rachel’s way. Once it was clear she was gone, Stephanie collapsed the pole and hooked it back to her purple holster, turning to look at Rachel with an eyebrow raised.

“Hey N, good to see you, how's the job, how's the wife and kids? What the fuck was that about?” Rachel rolled her eyes and took a step away from Stephanie. Now that Catalina was gone, the relief of having Spoiler arrive was replaced with embarrassment at her seeing the interaction in the first place.

“It was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing. In fact, if I had to guess, it looked like a whole lot of something.”

“Tarantula just-”

“Ahh so she has a name. This wouldn’t be the same Tarantula Oracle said has been stalking you the last few weeks, would it?”. Rachel felt herself grow irritated at the comment.

“O told you?” 

Stephanie sat down on the ledge of the building and pulled down her hood, letting her blonde ponytail come loose and spill over her shoulders. Pulling out a granola bar she broke it in half and patted to the spot next to her. For a moment Rachel contemplated just leaving, and perhaps she would have if it was one of her brothers, but Stephanie had a disposition that was hard to stay mad at and so eventually Rachel took a seat and gingerly accepted the snack.

“I love Oracle, but you know she’s only really good at keeping secrets from the boys,” Stephanie responded, shoving her own half of granola into her mouth. “She’s worried about you.”

“Funny. That’s what she said about you.” Stephanie shrugged, not at all bothered to be caught caring.

“It’s almost like you have people who love and care for you Nightwing. Wild right?” The question was playful, but Rachel still felt somewhat chided. It was no wonder Spoiler was sent to check on her, she was perhaps the only person Rachel would not get defensive around. Well, her and Cass, but she was still somewhere in Hong Kong.

“I know. You’re right.”

“Wow, you simply love to hear it folks.” Rachel knocked her shoulder playfully into Steph’s, causing her to push back with a laugh. “Joking. But the point still stands… You doing ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t.” Came Stephanies surprisingly stern response. “Don’t do that. I want to know for real. Are you okay?” It was rare Spoiler became serious, and because of that Rachel allowed herself to be honest.

“I’m… Struggling a little. It’s all… a lot. But the world is not on fire and I’m not in over my head. I just need to lock up Blockbuster and then I can focus on getting Bludhaven not to hate me. Tarantula will disappear from my hero life, and hopefully from my civilian life to-”

“Wait.” Stephanie interrupted. “What do you mean your civilian life to? N… does she know who you are?”

“No!” Rachel rushed to reassure, not meaning to reveal that tidbit. “No, she’s just an FBI agent. Our paths have crossed during work. She doesn’t know I’m me or that I know her alter ego.” The answer didn’t appear to assuage Steph at all, and a pinched look crossed her face.

“And in your day-to-day, is she also that… forward?” The answer was a hard yes. 

Though Catalina had yet to grow so brazen as to grab Rachel, she was not shy in touching her and constantly whispering suggestive things in her ear. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t altogether debilitating and so Rachel put up with it in the hopes that once Desmond was behind bars Catalina could go back to her own life which was hopefully far far away from Bludhaven.

“It’s fine Spoiler, I can handle Tarantula.” Stephanie looked like she wanted to argue before shaking her head, and deciding not to push. 

“If you say you can handle it, then you can handle it. I trust you. But if this gets worse-”

“I’ll tell you.” It was a promise Rachel had been making a lot lately, one that she hoped she wouldn’t need to fulfill.  With a sigh, Stephanie shook the tension out of her body and the familiar jovial aura returned. Indicating that the serious stuff was over.

“It’s still early, want a helping hand around patrol?” Before Rachel could respond Steph tilted her head almost imperceptibly to the right, like she was listening to something. After a moment, she raised her hand, and hitting the comm she responded. “Got it O, we’re on our way.” Turning back to Rachel, some of the tension returned as she stood from the roof. “New plan, you’re joining me on patrol. We’ve got a breakout in Gotham.”

***

There was a chance, however slim, that Damian may have potentially been just the littlest bit distracted.

The elephant in the cave was, of course, Rachel. Every moment not spent on patrol or working cases was spent worrying about his youngest sister. Who frustratingly would now no longer return any of their calls and not just his.

The only saving grace was the occasional reports from Gordon, confirming that Rachel was at least alive enough to call in police pickups. Not that it truly provided that much relief, as according to the news Bludhaven was more volatile than ever, and according to his Father Rachel potentially had a new villain targeting her both in mask and outside of it.

More than once Jon had to talk him down from the ledge, as Damian was tempted to just up and leave Gotham, pound on Rachel’s door, and demand she tell him how to fix whatever had gone wrong between the two of them. But Damian was determined not to fall into the trappings of his Father, he was determined to be a better Batman, a better man. Which meant that he would give Rachel her space and the time that she clearly needed to be by herself. Even if it meant late nights listening into the BPD scanner, anxiously awaiting news on if his sister had been caught or killed by the imbeciles that ran the city.

The other distraction was that of the murder of Aubrey James, now a few weeks old and no closer to being solved than when it first occurred.

Damian had followed the lead after the disastrous phone call with Rachel, and had indeed found a white feather at the crime scene, having been swept away under the living room couch. Not at all cataloged by the police who hadn’t known to look for it. Damian had taken pictures and brought it to the cave for diagnostics, but had only discovered it belonged to a Barn Owl. Strange to have been on the scene, but altogether unsubstantial regarding the investigation, outside of its connection to the other two murders now decades past. 

Similarly, attempts to contact Cressida Clarke were unsuccessful in that she had gone away on a two-month cruise. Further investigation showed she had gone on similar vacations after the other two murders but for the life of him, Damian didn’t know why. Not only did Clarke have no reason to be connected to any of the three victims, but as a Gotham socialite she had nothing to gain from their deaths either. Her family was nearly as old as the Waynes. She was rich enough that politics didn’t truly affect her, and clean enough that the potential stain was perplexing.

It felt like Damian was missing something. Like there was a secret buried beneath the soil and heartbeat of Gotham, waiting to be brought to life. It felt like the start of something big, but despite all of his digging, Damian didn’t know what it could be.

Had he not been so preoccupied perhaps he would have noticed the signs leading to the Arkham breakout;

The quiet and uneventful patrols heralded the calm before the storm. 

The fact that, for the first time in ages, Arkham was at full capacity as the villains had been wrangled after the upheaval of Spyral and Damian's resurrection. 

The fact that Halloween was inching closer and closer and the villains loved a cliche.

He cursed himself for his oversight when he got the news from Barbara and quickly went to work, as the others all came to his aid.

He himself, would go after Scarecrow. Drake the Riddler. Todd always laid claim to Black Mask and other Gang based advisories. Cassandra was in Hong Kong which was fine as Ivy and Harley were currently out of town and no longer deemed active threats. Joker had been dead for years, leaving only Two-Face unaccounted for. Once Oracle reported that Brown would be arriving back in town with Rachel at her heel, Damian ordered Gordon to send them to take care of Dent. Feeling slightly more affirmed that they could handle this without too many casualties.

Scarecrow was a primary threat due to his ability to create mass hysteria. Damian needed to quell him before he could get to work on a new fear toxin formula that would surpass the defenses of the yearly vaccine Gothamites were now encouraged to receive. The man himself was not particularly strong and as long as Damian wore his gas mask, he would be alright. Another reason he reserved the villain for himself was the coverage of the Batsuit. All of their uniforms had been outfitted to prevent needles from puncturing the fabric, but his suit was perhaps the most full coverage. So unless Scarecrow got a lucky shot to the chin, he would be fine.

Unfortunately, while Crain was easy to subdue, he still had managed to infect a mass of now screaming and terrified civilians. While Damian did not have enough antidotes for everyone, first responders would already be on their way with their own stache. Meaning Damian only needed to knock out the more violently inclined individuals as he waited for assistance.

It was while he worked on these individuals that he heard over the comm that Spoiler and Nightwing had arrived.

“The better Dynamic Duo is here and reporting for duty boss.” Came Stephanies usual chipper voice. Damian wasn’t sure if she was talking to Gordon or himself but deferred to Oracle when she responded.

“Glad to have you Spoiler. En Route to Dent?”

“Aye, aye Captain. About five minutes out.”

“Good. Hopefully, he won’t be expecting you two yet.”

A new voice joined the other two, causing Damian's chest to squeeze in a weird ball of relief and anxiety.

“Anything we need to know?” Rachel piqued up, sounding more subdued than usual, but ultimately alright.

“Don’t get shot?” A small laugh escaped Rachel at that.

“We’ll try our best O.”

“Do my ears deceive me or do I detect the delicate tones of Goldie gracing us with her presence?” Came Todd's voice, intermixed with the sound of fighting. Damian winced at the question, worrying it would isolate Rachel from them further, but Rachel just laughed.

“Awe Hood, did you miss little old me?”

“Wouldn’t go that far kid. More like, relished in the sweet sweet silence of your absence.”

A new voice joined the line as Tim butt in, the sound of the Riddler yelling incoherently behind him.

“Don’t believe him N, he’s been whining about you for the last few weeks.”

            “No, no, no! It’s not fair! I just got out. You have to play the game correctly-”

Tim continued, ignoring the shouting, “It was all, ‘Where’s Nightwing?’ and ‘When do you think Nightwing’s coming home?’ and ‘Do you think Nightwing’s OK?”

“Like you were any better Knight.”

          You have to answer my Riddle in order! You can’t just skip to the end, it’s an art form!”

“Awe boys, all that concern for little old me?”

“Don’t get a big head Nightwing.”

“As you’d recall Hood, I’ve recently been told my head is perfectly proportionate-”

“-Gross don’t remind me.”

“Comms muted now. ” Damian bit out, feeling slightly overstimulated from the chatter which was no longer the norm with Rachel gone. “Status updates only, this is not a game.” He heard everyone go silent and immediately regretted his words as the cavalier camaraderie quieted into a thick and uncomfortable silence. No one said anything else, and slowly the background noise quieted, indicating everyone was on mute. A signal echoed in his ear indicating he change channels, and with a sigh, he did so.

“That went well.”

“I didn’t mean to sound like-”

“B?” Damian winced but did not correct Gordon. “You weren’t wrong to tell everyone to go on mute.”

“But?”

“But , being a dick isn’t the way to get Rachel to talk to you.”

“I know.”

“But?”

“But,” Damian spat out, echoing Barbara, “I’ve always been rather short. This shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

“I think the costume changes adds a bit more weight to it… I also think that Rachel softened you more than you realized.”

“And now I’m hard again?”

“No.” She disagreed, setting him at ease. “Now you’re stressed and no offense, flailing.” Damian sat down on a stoop, all the civilians accounted for and Crain restrained as he waited for the response team.

“I don’t want to become like Father.” Gordon let out a heavy breath at the admission, and Damian felt a flush as the words escaped his mouth but did not take them back.

“There’s a difference between being short and being cruel Damian. Just don’t let one turn into another. Alright?” Damian looked up at the sky, Gotham smog obscuring any star or moon that should be visible. He felt increasingly like Atlas with the world on his shoulders and not for the first time since donning the cowl, he felt a flicker of understanding for the weight his Father carried. With a resolution that he would not bear it the same way.

“Alright.”

After a moment with nothing more to say, the two flipped back to the main channel and got back to work. The silence did not last long as a couple of minutes later the sound of gunshots filling the air clicked online and Spoiler came in sounding winded.

“Two-Face has backup with Killer Croc. Since when the hell do those two work together?” 

Damian swore to himself and unmuted his own comm, swinging up to the roof of the nearest building as police cars and ambulances finally came onto his scene.

“Status Spoiler?”

“Shitshow?” A louder explosion sounded on their end and Damian flinched as he quickened his pace, following the route Oracle silently gave him. “Yep, yep, definitely shitshow. Nightwing is tackling Dent, I got Croc… Damnit, it’s going to take forever to get the sewer smell out of my suit.” Spoiler whined as a terrifying roar sounded too close to her for comfort.

“I’m on my way, give me a couple of minutes.”

Jason spoke up as well.

“Same. Don’t end the party without me.”

“Bring balloons!” Stephanie retorted before returning to her battle, comm still on in case she needed to give updates on the fight.

Damian quickly made his way across town towards the two of them, unease growing in his chest as the fight continued and he could hear Stephanie grow more and more out of breath. The unease didn’t lift when Red Hood announced he arrived, though Damian was happy to hear the two of them work to take down Killer Croc. He was just rounding the block when amongst the gunshots and fighting he heard Stephanie cry out.

“Nightwing!”

Pushing himself even harder he reached the building and crashed inside just in time to see Rachel collapse to the ground from the momentum of a bullet. Blood sprayed from her arm and onto the concrete floor. Two-Face stood over her, coin in hand as one-half of his face smirked down.

“Guess it’s not your lucky day little bird.’ 

Without hesitating Damian threw himself at the man, catching him off guard as they two crashed into the warehouse floor. Without giving him time to recover Damian raised a fist and brought it down, striking it into the man's jaw. Barely registering the sound of bone smacking against concrete, he raised his fist again and brought it down, not even noticing Dent’s hand holding the gun go lax along with the rest of his body. He went to raise his fist again and let out a snarl when he felt a hand grab it, preventing him from attacking. Swinging his head over, Damian met Spoiler's eyes, who was looking at him intently.

“You got him, he’s down.”

Awareness immediately flooded his body and scrambling up Damians’s eyes scanned the room, completely glossing over the unconscious form of Killer Croc to rest on Nightwing. Who was sitting up with Red Hood’s help, and looking relatively alright despite the wound to her arm. He saw Jason say something to her to which she responded back with a laugh, looking altogether unbothered as he wrapped a temporary gauze around her arm.

For some reason the nonchalance made Damian furious, the flagrant disregard for her own safety. He went to move forward, mouth already open, when Stephanie stopped him again.

“Don’t.”

“Spoiler.”

“Don’t. You’re not mad at her, so don’t take it out on her.”

Damian took a deep breath threw his nose and closing his eyes he slowly let it out, forcing his irritation to leak out with it. He took another breath, and another, until he felt the instantaneous anger melt into something softer. Opening his eyes he met Stephanies pleased stare.

“I won’t.”

Stephanie nodded and released her grip, allowing him to turn back to the other two who were standing up from the ground. Walking over he noticed Rachel tense as she saw him, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him at the action. For a moment Jason looked like he was going to intervene until his gaze flickered behind Damian where Stephanie was still standing, and upon reading something on her face he relaxed.

Damian ignored him.

“Let’s get you to the Cave and checked out.” The suggestion was soft and Rachel looked surprised by it but nodded her head in agreement anyway. Oracles' voice clicked through all their ears.

“You all head out. I’ve got authorities on the way. Looks like everyone’s been rounded up.”

Without further pressing Damian ushered all of them to the car and took the driver's seat. Ignoring the tense silence. The drive back was quick, the streets nearly empty as it tended to be after a breakout. It was still pitch dark, but looking at the clock Damian knew the familiar glow of dawn would soon be breaking the horizon, Illuminating the cityscape with the promise of a fresh start and a new day.

When they returned, like a hen looking over his flock, he watched as each member was treated for wounds by Alfred.

Brown needed a few stitches from a lucky swipe made by Croc.

Todd walked away with only an icepack for a slowly developing back eye and a butterfly bandage over his chin.

Tim unharmed was surveying the transport back to Arkham via the Batcomputer, verifying the return of each inmate.

Damien himself was sore but ultimately fine, and after a few stitches Grayson was deemed fit and ordered to rest from the graze to the arm..

Alfred left them all in the cave to report back to Bruce that they were all safe and accounted for. The man had refused to come back down to the cave since retiring but had been alerted like the rest of Gotham to the breakout. He had stayed awake in the den, anxiously awaiting their return. No doubt all of them would be making their way up there shortly, where tea and snacks would be waiting.

Slowly everyone moved to change and get showered, one by one coming back to the main part of the cave and waiting for everyone to finish. Sensing an impending conversation in the air.

Damian took longer than usual to get clean, working through his mind with all the things he wanted to say, and all the ways he shouldn’t say them, to ensure he would not be mistaken again. He came out expecting to be the last but faltered when he saw Rachel wasn’t there. For a moment he feared she had already disappeared back to Bludhaven and he had missed his chance. But that fear diminished when he heard soft footsteps fall behind him and turning he saw her attempting to put her hair up in a bun with one hand, to no avail.

He saw when she looked up and noticed everyone staring at her, he saw when she tensed for a moment before forcing herself to relax. He also saw how that bothered everyone including himself.

“Hey.” She said with a forced casualness that Damian was quick to see through. Slowly he made his way over to her and held out a hand. After a moment she placed her hair tie into it, and moving behind her he gently ushered her to the foot of the Batcomputer chair, sitting down in it he moved her to sit in front of him, which she did after a moment of hesitation.

He began to scoop up strands of hair to pull back in a braid. It was a habit the two had gotten used to before his death, as Rachel, despite being marvelously dexterous had never mastered how to french braid. Damian hadn’t braided her hair in going on a year, but years of practice kicked in, and slowly he felt Rachel relax beneath him. For an odd moment, he felt the urge to cry, before he squashed it down.

“Do you not trust me?” Came Rachel's quiet voice, and ignoring the others he forced himself to answer genuinely.

“I do trust you.”

“Do you not think I’m capable?”

“No.”

“Do you think I’m a child?”

Yes.

“No.”

Rachel let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob, sounding younger than she had since before Spyral.

“Then why do you keep acting like I’m doing everything wrong?” Damian felt his hands stutter, but he forced himself to work through it.

“I don’t think you’re doing everything wrong.”

“Just some things?” Damian snorted at the tease, relaxing slightly at the joke, feeling himself fall into the familiar role of Rachel’s caretaker.

“I’m scared for you… All the time. Your death scared me.”

“.... Your’s scared me too.” Came the quiet admission.

“I know. It’s strange, isn’t it? I used to spend every moment with you. I knew where you were, what you were thinking, how you felt. We protected one another, and when I wasn’t there you died. When I wasn’t there, you were hurt. And I am trying to give you space. But I am scared and I need you to be okay Grayson.”

“I am okay.”

“Are you?” For a while, Rachel didn’t answer as Damian finished her hair and tied it back. Looking up he realized they were alone, the others dispersing when they realized he wasn’t going to mess everything up. Finally, Rachel turned around, looking unbelievably exhausted.

“I… I am doing my best, and it's hard but I can do it. I just need you all to trust I know my limit and if I need help I will ask for it.” Trusting Rachel was never a hard thing to do, it was as intrinsic as breathing. Trusting the world however, was impossible. But he forced himself not to muse on that.

“You need to start coming to family dinners again.”

It sounded like a bargain and Rachel smiled, seeing the statement for what it was.

“Okay.”

“And comms stay on during patrol. No more going off the grid. We need to be able to reach you.”

“It needs to be a separate channel than Gotham.”

“Deal…. And… I would like to do lunch.” Damian saw Rachel's eyes crinkle in humor and he felt the last remaining tension dissipate.

“Lunch?”

“Yes, once a week, I will drive down to Bludhaven.”

“Okay, we’ll do lunch.” Damian let out a heavy breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and Rachel's smirk softened. “You know I love you Dami, right?” Damian smiled and slowly eased Rachel into a hug, smiling as she tightened her grip around him.

“I love you too Grayson.”

Damian vowed not to be his Father. He was insistent on it, and as he held on to Rachel he knew that while at times he may stumble, he would never fall. 

All at once the world shifted, and while perhaps the two would never go back to the way they were. There was an understanding between them that had been lost, and Damian was resolute not to let go of it now that it had been found.

***

The fact that Rachel had to make the drive back to Bludhaven to start her early morning shift just an hour after getting back to the manor was actually really rude.

Despite the exhaustion and dread, however, Rachel felt lighter than she had in a while. Her conversation with Damian eased a turbulence in her soul she hadn’t even realized was there. She was starting to realize just how much the ordeal with Spyral and Bruce had affected her. Her blind trust had morphed into hesitant suspicion. Like she was waiting for her family to let her down. It hadn’t been justified or fair, but it had been there without her knowing.

Speaking to Damian had been a reminder of why it had been unnecessary. 

Her brother was notoriously bad at picking up social cues and she had never taken it personally. But since returning, her defenses had turned jagged. As though if she expected the worst she couldn’t be disappointed. She wasn’t sure she could flip the switch as easily as she wanted to her old self. Nor did she want to fully go back to the blind faith she once had. But she would work towards a happy medium of trust and respect.

By the time she got to the station, she was late, a recurring habit that had not gone unnoticed by Renee. Though as long as she got in before a call and brought a caffeinated bribe, her supervisor was usually unbothered by it. Extra coffee in hand, a buzz of warning flashed through her spine as she entered the station and was immediately met with a wall of noise, uncommon for the early morning. People rushed through the halls looking grave yet stoic, not even clocking Rachel as she walked in. A handful of EMTs that Rachel knew usually worked the second shift, intermixed with HR admin Rachel had only really seen her first day, walked around her. 

One police officer sat at the breakroom table, a styrofoam coffee cup sitting in front of her untouched.

Amy immediately stood when Rachel entered and taking in her face Rachel knew something was wrong. With a tilt of her head, Amy indicated to a door to an office that was only rarely used by the manager on duty. Following her, Rachel set down the coffee in hand and closed the door behind.

“Renee’s dead.” The bottom of Rachel's stomach dropped out of her at the news, her brain unusually quiet as Amy went on. “Landlord found her at the bottom of the lobby stairs, broken neck, they’re calling it an accident. They’re wrong.”

“Desmond.” It wasn’t a question but Amy nodded anyway and Rachel felt the breath punch back into her as she leaned heavily against the door.

Rachel had been patroling Renee’s apartment every night for two weeks until last night. Rachel had been watching, making sure she wouldn’t be attacked, Rachel had been vigilant and for two weeks nothing happened until she left town.Someone was watching Nightwing’s movements, and she only needed one guess to figure out who.

This is all my fault .

“They’re not going to investigate. Have no reason to, especially with the force in his pocket.” It was bolder than Amy had ever been with Rachel, and for a moment she feared that Amy knew about her alter ego. “You need to get out of town.”

“ What ?”

“You need to get out of town now.” Amy pressed, and Rachel could see the unrestrained panic in her eyes. “You’re a good kid, you don’t need to be mixed up in all this. Head out, lay low, start new somewhere else. Desmond may have weaseled his way through every vein in this city, but his range doesn’t spread out of it.” Rachel knew Amy was right. Bludhaven was a mirror of Gotham, once a person left its folds they no longer existed. Besides, the risk of crossing into another jurisdiction was not one Blockbuster would make. Not for nobody Rachel Grayson.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not leaving.”

Amy gave her an incredulous look, as though not expecting to hear the refusal.

“Kid-”

“I appreciate the warning. I do. But I’m not going to run. Bludhaven is my home now, I’m going to stay in it.” For a moment Amy looked like she wanted to argue, but perhaps realizing it wasn’t her place, refrained. Placing an arm on Rachel's shoulder she shot her a leveled look.

“Take today off. Bulk up your apartment security. Hell, get a gun if you think you can handle it. Don’t be alone for too long. Don’t do anything stupid and call me.” Her grip tightened to reinforce her words. “Call me if you need anything. That’s not a request Grayson. That’s an order.” Despite the circumstances, Rachel felt honored that the older women cared enough about her to be so persistent in her safety. 

“I promise.” 

Amy didn’t let go for a moment, as though making sure Rachel was being truthful before finally releasing her.

“Even Desmond’s smart enough not to order two hits back to back. My guess? You got a couple days. Again, I wouldn’t blame you if you used them to get out of dodge. But if you don’t, be careful.” Opening the office door Amy ushered her out. “I’ll see what I can do on my end. I… I may have a friend who can help you out.” For a moment Rachel wondered who the friend could be before realizing with a start she was talking about Nightwing.

With a small smile, Rachel moved towards the exit.

“Thank you.” 

Amy shook her head, looking no less grave than she had when Rachel arrived.

“Don’t thank me yet kid.”

Hearing the dismissal Rachel headed out the door, gaze immediately darting about her, already on alert as she moved towards her car. Bludhaven had never felt like a safe city, but knowing Renee was killed suddenly made Rachel feel like there were eyes on her the moment she left the building. An uncomfortable ache filled her throat at the thought of her supervisor but she pushed it down. She could grieve when she was alone.

Moving to the parking lot, she tensed as she saw someone leaning against the driver's door of her car, before relaxing in irritation.

“Can I help you, Agent Flores?”

Catalina straightened from where she had been leaning, and gleefully Rachel clocked a bruise on her chin where Spoiler had struck her the night before. Catalina looked at Rachel with sympathy, though there was a glint in her eyes that undermined it.

“Cariño, I heard about Renee, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Rachel went to open her door, but Catalina didn’t move away from her perch.

“You’re not leaving Bludhaven.” Rachel looked up sharply at the non-question that Catalina seemed to already know the answer to.

“No, I’m not.” A strange sort of pride glowed from the other woman.

“You’re not easily frightened.” Rachel squared her shoulders, reminiscent of the night before, she felt the lines between Nightwing and Rachel blur for a moment.  

“No. I’m not.” Catalina smirked at that but didn’t move to touch Rachel.

“You shouldn’t be alone, and lucky for you I have some time off to play bodyguard.” Lucky for me? My boss just died and you're trying to use this as an opportunity to get into my pants? Pushing past Catalina, Rachel unlocked and opened her door, throwing her bag into the passenger seat she moved to get in. 

“I’m good. Thanks.”

She felt Catalina's hand wrap around her wrist and despite herself, Rachel turned towards her.

“Don’t be foolish sweetheart. I know we’ve been playing this fun game of hard-to-get. But I can keep you safe.” Shaking the hand off, Rachel got into her car.

“You can keep me safe by focusing on your investigation Agent Flores.”

Slamming the door, she ignored Catalina’s affronted face. Choosing not to see the intrigue intermixed with the agitation at Rachel’s actions. Pulling away from the station she felt her whole body recoil in a strange combination of relief and grief. The pricking of tears began to appear at the edges of her eyes and angrily she brushed them aside. It was her fault. She knew that to be true without a question. Renee’s death was her fault. But she would be damned if she spent a second wallowing in guilt before she made sure Desmond paid for it.

Glancing to her phone she wondered if perhaps now was the time to call in help, but tightening her grasp on the wheel she ignored the feeling.

This was her battle, she would fight it.

She ignored the quiet voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Tiger reminding her that it was not on any one person to fight a war. She had allies and teammates who would run into battle with her.

She pushed the memory down. She may not have been responsible for the Paragon, but she was responsible for this. And she would fix it.

She would fix it .

Chapter Text

There was a poem Rachel had been taught years ago, though whether she learned it begrudgingly from her English lit teacher or less begrudgingly from Jason, she couldn’t recall. The bulk of it, though short, remained elusive to her, deteriorated from the erosive nature of time. The last line, however, had stayed with her.

Nothing gold can stay .

She had often heard the saying outside of the confines of its original iteration. Just as one knew the first lines of the ‘To Be or Not to Be’ soliloquy without an understanding of what came before or after it. It had never really held much meaning for her, she was not a poetic person and she often left flowery language to the interpretation of her better-read siblings. But for some reason, it came to mind now.

Nothing gold can stay .

It was part of the reason this time of year was one of Rachel’s favorites. While early November in Bludhaven was as gray as the rest of the year. In previous years spent at the manor, Rachel could be found watching the trees turn to red, to orange, to gold. 

In her youth, before experiencing the changing seasons of Gotham, the circus had only gone to where it was warm. Rachel had not been told that trees could be anything but green, and perhaps she had taken them for granted because of that. But in Gotham, fall made way for a cold and bitter winter, which when finally broken, would bring with it the relief of spring. As well as the bloom of plants that had begun the cycle of life once more.

Nothing gold can stay.

It was a promise, that good things were never permanent. An idea that could be sad if not for the fact that supposedly bad things were never permanent either. Right now it felt more like a threat, a reminder that good times were quick to leave and spoil.

It felt like gold hadn’t come at all. Instead, Rachel had been forced to build the foundation of her life with steel beams already eaten away with rust. Already beginning to crumble with the first strong wind that came blowing her way.

Since her death, Rachel had been clawing for the chance to come back to bloom as it were. To build back up after rotting away and become something beautiful again. But perhaps her roots were too ruined. Perhaps the soil was unnourished. Perhaps under her own hands, nothing would foster, nothing could grow.

She felt like she had begged her family to let her tend to her own garden, and was only just realizing that she didn’t have a green thumb.

She felt so completely useless.

Renee’s death had only been a few days ago and the feeling of uselessness had settled into her bones and had not relinquished its hold. Making her feel a strange sort of lethargy she hadn’t experienced since Damian's death. A deep-seated desire to simply lay down in her bed and not get back up. 

Upon Amy’s suggestion, she had taken a long leave from work which her boss had been receptive to. Perhaps already chalking Rachel up to a deadman walking. Her own security was already more advanced than the average civilian's, but she put in the work to make the security visible to anyone who came snooping. Providing at least some sort of deterrent from a break-in.

When she wasn’t Nightwing she was at home. Hiding beneath the covers, ignoring the heavy and persistent ache that had settled into her chest. Along with the near-constant sensation of feeling out of breath. It was as if everything was too bright, her skin too sensitive, her mind too stimulated. Anytime she left the folds of her cover her whole being itched with an uncomfortable sense of wrongness. Her only saving grace was that she had been in Gotham just before Renee’s death, so it hadn’t gone on long enough to have her family come breathing down her neck.

Even the thought of one of them stepping foot in her apartment made her chest tighten.

Despite all that, the one thing that did have the power to spur her into action was patrol. Though even Rachel was cognizant that it was mostly due to her own guilt. Amy was right in that after Renee’s death Desmond had laid low. Part of the reason he hadn’t been caught before now was because he was more methodical than erratic. Even with the death of his Mother, he knew better than to bring too much heat on himself while the Feds were in town.

However, Bludhaven did not only suffer from Blockbuster's hands. Nightwing couldn’t fly from one block to another without someone being mugged or jumped, or assaulted. In Gotham, she had felt pride in her patrol, and had felt like she was chipping away at the larger problem. She could see the crime statistics go down after years of surveillance and investigations. The city would never be a Metropolis, but it no longer was the death sentence it had been when Rachel arrived.

Bludhaven was relentless, and for every person she attempted to put behind bars, two would take their place. Which would inevitably become three once the person she left for the cops was released after a well-placed bribe or blackmail. It was daunting, how pointless it all felt, how it never seemed to help. Nightwing tried and tried to stop crime, to do the right thing, to save people. But it wasn’t enough.

And she could live with it, the endless stream of advisories, if it wasn’t for the reception from the people she tried to help.

It was clear the citizens of Bludhaven didn’t trust her. Every person she saved glared at her with a distrustfulness she had never experienced before. 

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I can’t pay you anything, so you’ve wasted your time.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Why are you here?”

“I didn’t ask for a hero.”

Rachel didn’t need thank you’s or praise or gratitude. But the resentment and hatred she was met with was unexpected and hurt. Worse were the people who were frightened of her because of her reputation for ruining Desmond’s plans.

“Please go before someone sees me with you.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“ You’re making it all worse. ”

Since Rachel had arrived a gang war had started between Desmond and Bolton’s people. Renee had been killed, and Desmond had become volatile in the wake of his mother's death which Rachel hadn’t been able to prevent. Perhaps they were all right, perhaps she was just making everything worse and she should leave Bludhaven to its own devices. The town could save itself or burn itself down without her interference. 

She wondered what right she had to meddle with it. What right did she have to try and save it?

Maybe it was hubris, maybe it was arrogance. But Rachel had seen the horrors of the world, had seen the evil in people, and yet she still believed that there could be good under it. She still believed that goodness wasn’t a given, it was fought for. And every single person had the ability to fight for it in some capacity. She was strong, she was dynamic, she was smart. She could do things others could not, and maybe she was making a mistake but something she learned in Spyral was that she could only make the best decision she could with the information she had right now.

Right now she knew a maniac was leveling Bludhaven with his own corruption and greed. Right now everyone was too afraid of him to do anything about it. Right now, Rachel was already marked for death, so she may as well put up one hell of a fight.

The ache in her chest didn’t dissipate, but the drive was enough to get her up and fighting.

It was a relief when Amy finally called her, the unrestrained buzzing in her body longing for a direction to be pointed at. The call came through her burner phone, and so as Nightwing Rachel made her way to the address Amy had sent. An abandoned electronics store on the outskirts of town. Just far away enough that it was unlikely anyone would stumble into it. The door was locked, but a window in back was propped open with a wooden slate and so quietly Rachel climbed her way in and landed gently in a dusty, half-empty backroom. Making her way through the short back hallway, Nightwing stepped onto the main floor and almost immediately came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

“If I had a nickel every time someone invited me to an abandoned off-brand Best Buy-”

Amy rolled her eyes but relaxed slightly and though she didn’t holster the gun she did let her arm rest at her side.

“Can never be too careful, what with everything going down.” 

Rachel nodded and crossed her arms leaning casually against a dusty display case, Ignoring the ever-constant cold tingling in her body.

“I heard about the EMT that was murdered. Did you know her?”

Amy let out a heavy sigh at the question and Rachel took her in as she rubbed her eyes. The older women looked as run down as Rachel felt. Her suit was wrinkled and worn, heavy bags were under her eyes and dread lined her face.

“I did. Yes.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Amy wrinkled her nose at the show of sympathy, uncomfortable with it. Rachel could understand that, she would be annoyed if someone had said it to her. Rachel pressed on. “What can I do to help?”

“Outside of connecting the murder to Desmond?” Trust me, I’m working on it. “There’s someone else, Rachel Grayson.” Amy handed Rachel a folder and opening it Rachel could see her own face. The image taken from her ID card was smiling up at her, surrounded by her contact information and some scribbled notes in Amy’s handwriting.

“She in danger?”

“She and the EMT who died, Renee, were on call when Blockbuster's mother came in. I know you were trying to get Desmond mad so that he’d make a mistake. I want to make sure the mistake doesn’t happen by him going after Rachel.”

Something about talking to Amy as Nightwing, discussing herself made Rachel uncomfortable. She had always had to lie about her civilian identity. But never had it been so tied into her vigilante work. Never had it been to someone who seemed to care so much about Rachel’s safety.

“You want me to keep an eye on her?” Amy shot her a look that held with it a weight of protectiveness that nearly leveled her.

“I want you to keep her alive.” Amy’s gaze darted down to the open folder and softened when she looked at Rachel's picture. “She’s a good kid, but she’s stubborn. She won’t make a run for it, but she doesn’t deserve to be under Blockbuster's thumb.” Amy looked up and met Rachel’s gaze. “You want to be a hero, you want to try and help? Start with helping her.”

Rachel felt her mouth go dry and a cold cynical part of her wanted to tell Amy she had been trying to help herself for years to no avail. But underneath the hard veneer, Rachel could see unrestrained fear in Amy’s eyes. The other women had not asked for help lightly, and Rachel wouldn’t disrespect her by dismissing it.

“I’ll do what I can to keep Rachel Grayson safe.” She promised, trying not to feel like a fraud as she watched some of the tension leak out of Amy.

“Thank you.” Slowly reaching to the counter next to her, Rachel noticed that Amy had brought more than just Rachel’s file with her, as the agent handed over a thick binder. “Grayson actually wasn’t the only reason I called you. I found something.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and taking the binder she leafed through it. Eyes scanning pages of invoices and receipts.

“Are these-”

“-Roland Desmond’s financial statements.” Amy finished with a nod. “I have a friend in the auditor’s office who was able to get records of some of Desmond’s dealings with the mayor and a few other businesses as well. Desmond’s federal tax record is spotless, but if you can find a discrepancy between what's there and what's filed… Could be something.” Rachel felt hope begin to bloom in her stomach.

“The easiest way to take down a mobster isn’t through the murders he’s committed but the taxes he didn’t pay.” 

Amy nodded in agreement, smiling despite herself.

“It’s a way in and more than that, it's a federal crime. Could buy you more time to catch him on the big things. Get him in jail for a few years, take down his enterprise.”

“And more importantly keep your friend safe.” Rachel pointed out, closing the binder. “It could take some time but I’ll work on it. It helps that the FBI is already sniffing around. At the very least we may get an arrest sooner than later, and out of Bludhaven's jurisdiction he may actually be prosecuted.”

Rachel noticed Amy make a face at the mention of the agency and waited for a moment as the other women decided what she wanted to say.

“Speaking of… Does the name Catalina Flores mean anything to you?”

Rachel cocked her head to the side, barely masking her surprise at the question. She debated for a moment how truthful she wanted to be, especially concerning the whole Tarantula thing. But everything was already too closely tied to Rachel Grayson. She didn’t need to give anyone, even Agent Rohrbach, a reason to look closer.

“I know that she’s one of the Agents assigned to Desmond’s case.” Amy nodded in response, jaw tensing as she thought of her. “Should I be worried about her?”

“She’s…dangerous.” Amy responded carefully, tension seeping back into her stance. “I don’t like her. Don’t like that she’s involved in this case, don’t like that she’s in Bludhaven. Don’t like how she acts around… When you keep an eye on Rachel Grayson, just keep an eye out for Flores as well.” Rachel’s eyes narrowed, she had clocked that Amy wasn’t a fan of the agent flirting with her, but Catalina wasn’t really a threat. Was she?

“You think she’s up to something?”

Amy let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the counter, matching Rachel's stance. Looking more comfortable around Nightwing than she had before.

“I know she has a history of… inappropriate behavior in the workplace. It's part of the reason she got sent here, and I don’t like- Grayson is just a kid. A smart kid sure, but she’s eighteen, and Flores is 25 and Flores is relentless and I don’t like that attention turned on Grayson. Especially when it's clear she doesn’t want it.”

Despite herself, Rachel could feel herself getting defensive.

“If Grayson is 18 what's the problem? She’s an adult, she can decide for herself what she does or doesn’t want and act accordingly.”

For a moment Amy just stared at her and Rachel feared she may have pushed too far, before the other woman’s gaze softened with understanding.

“I forgot you're just a kid too… You are right, Rachel is an adult and I am not trying to discredit or disrespect her, and maybe if Agent Flores was her age I wouldn’t be so concerned. But she isn’t. I don’t know how to say this in a way you won’t find condescending, but Catalina is too old to be hounding an eighteen-year-old for a date, especially when it's clear she isn’t interested. It’s a red flag, and considering her record it’s worrisome. Rachel may be an adult but she’s also young, and as a woman I can say that the older I get, the more I feel like it’s my responsibility to protect someone younger than me when they’re put in a position they shouldn’t be in.”

It wasn’t condescending, but Rachel didn’t completely understand it. She felt like an adult, she had been through things she was sure Amy hadn’t. But Amy was speaking so genuinely, Rachel couldn’t help but be grateful for the concern even if she felt like it was unnecessary.

“I think maybe life experiences affect maturity more than you give them credit for.”

Amy gave her a small smile at that.

“I am not discrediting life experience. But no matter what anyone's been through, everyone deserves to have someone looking out for them.” Amy looked like she wanted to say more to Rachel but decided against it and after a moment she stood up straight and Rachel mirrored her movement. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Of course. I know you're not my biggest fan, but I’m here to help Officer Rohrbach.” Amy smiled again and turned to head out of the building.

“I still think you're playing a dangerous game Nightwing, but for what it’s worth… I hope you win.”

The other women left, leaving Rachel alone with a stack of paper, feeling both emboldened and vulnerable by the conversation.

“Me too.”

The meet-up spot was so far from downtown proper that by the time Rachel made it back light was already crowning the tops of buildings. Quickly she made her way back to her apartment, eyes darting around her to make sure neither Tarantula nor any of Blockbuster's men were out and keeping an eye on her building.

When she finally crawled through her window it was with an exhaustion that was familiar. Usually, she would stumble into the shower to wash off the grime of the city, stumble into bed, and sleep away most of the day. But the binder given to her by Amy was drawing Rachel in with the promise of resolution. So after she washed she dressed herself in some clean(ish) sweats, started a pot of coffee, and opened it up. 

For a few hours, she was content with reading through the files, making notes of potential discrepancies here and there. She would need to reach out to Oracle to get access to his reported file. But at the very least she could grow familiar with the transactions listed in front of her before doing the comparison. 

It was just nearing 1:00pm, and though the slightly muted sunlight was streaming through her living room windows, Rachel could feel her eyes drooping despite herself. Closing the binder she resigned herself to continuing her investigation after getting a few hours of rest when her phone rang.

The name ‘Dami’ showed brightly back at her, and for a moment Rachel contemplated ignoring it before dismissing the thought. The two had resolved their differences, and Rachel didn’t want to do anything that would send warning bells ringing in her brother's head.

Putting on a cheery disposition, Rachel answered the call.

“Hey Dami!”

“Rachel.” Immediately her smile dropped at her brother’s tone, and leaning forward she pressed the phone closer to her ear. “There’s been an accident, Drake is in the hospital.”

***

It seemed redundant to say, but Damian hated hospitals.

But then again, who liked them? The fluorescent lights, the gray walls and white floors, the crowded waiting rooms and the despondent staff. One only came to the hospital when something was wrong, and so the air was always heavy with fear or anxiety or apprehension. You were always waiting for the shoe to drop or the rug to be pulled out from under you.

And it was so goddamn bright.

Damian couldn’t remember the last time he had been in one. The family was always treated at the cave or the clinic. Even for more serious or intense ailments assistance was brought to them. Hospitals were resolved for civilian scares, which were more frightening than Batman ones, as they were ultimately unexpected.

Damian did not enjoy getting shot, but when he threw himself into a gunfight as Batman he knew it was a possibility.

To be hurt as a civilian was to be hurt in an accident, or perhaps even more dauntingly, on purpose.

Damian had been watching the news, mindlessly really, it had been on in the background as he worked on a case that theoretically he shouldn’t have been working on in the manor, but had snuck up anyways. The flashing red of an alert caught his attention just in time to see that there had been an explosion at a Wayne Industries branch on Gotham’s eastside. Damian remembered that Tim had been scheduled for a talk there just as the manor landline had rung.

He, Father, and Alfred had quickly made their way to the hospital Drake had been transported to with little more information than he had some injuries, though the severity had gone unanswered. By the time Alfred had parked and Bruce had checked in, Damian had informed all of his siblings outside of Cassandra. Who was still halfway around the world and was prone to missed calls.

The three men were just settling into a private waiting room when Damian’s phone buzzed, and Cassandra’s face shone back up at him. He answered it while walking back out into the hall, sidestepping running nurses and orderlies.

“Somethings wrong.”

Damian let out a sigh, his sister's intuition beating him to the point even without her seeing his body language.

“Drake was in an accident. We are at the hospital but have not yet been informed of the scale.”

“What happened?” That’s what I would like to know.

“The news said it was an explosion.” Both grew silent at that. In Gotham, things like this didn’t happen by accident.

“I’m coming home.”

“We don’t know how injured-”

“I’m coming home.” Cass pressed, uncaring of the specifics. “If he is hurt I want to be home.” Damian could understand that, he had not always been protective of his family, least of all Drake, but time had softened him. He knew he would not want to be halfway across the world if one of them was hurt.

“What about your… work?” He couldn’t say the word mission in public, but Cassandra immediately knew he was referring to her work as Black Bat.

“Will wrap up… Something is bubbling.”

“Bubbling?” He couldn’t see Cassandra but could imagine her nodding her head.

“Yes. Something is building, I am worried. I need to be home.” 

Damian could feel it too, even before today he could feel something festering underneath the surface. Ready to disrupt the tentative peace that had been in place since after the Spyral debacle.

“Alright, let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, keep me posted.”

The two hung up and Damian was just about to head back into the waiting room when a frantic body crashed into the hallway. Immediately he locked eyes with Jason, who seeing Damian, made a beeline towards him.

“What the hell happened?” Damian knew that when Jason got scared he got mad, so he tried not to bristle at the anger being thrown at him.

“Drake was in accident-”

“-Yeah an explosion, I saw, is he alright?” Damian pursed his lips at the interruption but didn’t comment on it. Instead leading them back to Alfred and Bruce.

“I do not know yet. We just arrived and I was informing Cain of what occurred. She’s on her way home.” 

When the two entered the room Damian saw his Father stand up and pull Jason into a hug, which his younger brother returned albeit slowly. It was odd, the show of physical affection, but just another change that had come from his Father stepping away from the cowl. After pulling himself away Jason turned and gave Alfred a hug as well, this one slightly more relaxed.

“Any updates?” Bruce shook his head. 

“Not since we checked in. We’re still waiting.” 

Jason turned to the door, a scowl etched on his face, looking as if he was going to track down the nearest nurse and demand some answers..

“How long does it take to tell us how hurt he is?”

Alfred stopped him with a gentle hand, looking calm despite his paled complexion.

“There were others hurt in the explosion, Maser Jason. We will let them do their jobs without interfering. We are not the only family looking for answers.” Looking properly chided they all sat down, silence enveloping them as they waited.

A TV in the corner of the room played the same news station Damian had been watching earlier. Damian read the scrolling captions in lieu of sound. Mind already churning with the desire to investigate. Timothy hadn’t been there for any reason that would warrant disruption. He often made rounds to the various WI buildings within the city and had gone to this one for a quarterly update and talk. But there hadn’t been any new projects launched or any plans that would be foiled by the explosion. In fact, based on the newscast the explosion had happened in the storage center. Which had been thankfully empty at the time of the visit. With everyone crowding into conference rooms for a day full of meetings.

Any injuries had come from the part of the ceiling that had collapsed on impact, and fire damage. 

If Damian didn’t know better he’d say it was some sort of message. But for the life of him, he had no idea who’d want to send one or why.

Left to stew, an hour passed and he had just looked down at his watch wondering when Rachel would arrive when a doctor finally stepped in the room. Immediately they all stood, allowing Bruce to take command and step up for answers.

“I assume you’re the family of Tim Drake?”

“Yes. Is he alright?”

The doctor smiled and Damian felt his shoulders relax as there was no pity behind it.

“He’s certainly banged up but he’s alright. He hit his head and fell unconscious at the scene, but came too on his way in and keeps asking to be released. Though we’ll want to keep him for the night just to monitor him.” 

Damian heard Bruce let out a sigh of relief, his Father's face shining with amusement that Drake was already planning his jailbreak.

“Can we see him?”

All of them were led down the hallway. Passing the public waiting room filled with family members being spoken to by various doctors, Damien slowed down for a moment. Scanning their faces he saw that all seemed to share the relief he was experiencing. As it appeared there had been no casualties.

Walking into the private room, Damian could see that Drake was already surrounded by Jason, Alfred, and Bruce, clearly annoyed by all the fretting but still bearing it fondly. A large square piece of gauze was taped to his right temple, which if Damian had to guess, had been the cause of his head injury. Though he was wearing a hospital gown, Damian could see wraps along his right shoulder disappearing under the fabric, and his right wrist was wrapped in a sprain.

“I’m fine. Really I’m fine. Honestly, I could go home right now.” Tim said, shooting Bruce a hopeful look. Damian felt himself scowl.

“Drake, you will remain in this hospital until a licensed professional deems your release appropriate.” Tim rolled his eyes in response but there was no heat in it.

“You pass out for a minute and suddenly you're at risk for a concussion.” Jason snorted and gently ruffled the elder's hair, dodging out of the way of Tim’s hand batting at him.

“Got to make sure your genius brain isn’t scrambled, Timmy. Besides, they probably saw that you have more caffeine in your veins than blood and wanted to study you to see how you're still functioning.”

“I only had one coffee today.”

“Doesn’t count as one if you drink it from a Big Gulp cup, Timbo.”

“Once! I did that once!” 

Before Jason could respond another person rushed into the room with the same frantic energy as Jason before her. Rachel's eyes darted to Tim whose annoyance melted into something softer when he saw her. Immediately she dashed over to the bed and pulled him into a hug.

“Tim! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dami said that you’d been in an explosion, it’s all over the news. But no one was talking about how bad it was or if anyway had been killed or-”

“I’m alright Rach.” Tim interrupted gently, though didn’t pull away from the hug. Soaking in the now rare form of affection from the youngest. “A few bumps, a few bruises, but still in one piece.” Rachel pulled away and began inspecting Tim, as though to confirm his analysis.

Even in profile, Damian could tell that she was worn down. Though it had only been a week or so since the two had last seen one another, it was clear the week had not been kind. As deep bags sat under her eyes and her hands shook in a way Damian could tell was from exhaustion and not worry. Under her fall jacket, Damian could see a pair of mismatched sweats that told him she had come straight from home and not work which was unusual. 

Pulling his eyes away he caught Jason's gaze and could tell his younger brother was clocking the same things he had.

Something had happened.

It was clear that Tim noticed as well, as once Rachel stopped fretting over him he spoke up.

“You need to grab a seat, Rachel? You look dead on your feet.”

That hadn’t been the thing to say, as slowly Rachel withdrew her hands from Tim and gave him a smile so manufactured it only served to worry Damian more. Rachel could hide things from the best of them, she had been a born performer. Things were bad if they could all clearly see through her facade. 

“I’m not the one in the hospital Timbers. Don’t think you’re getting out of here by deflecting.” Says the person actively deflecting .

But Tim had always been smarter than Damian and so allowed the distraction to occur with a small pout.

“You gotta break me out of here Rachel. If I spend the night they're going to give me jello and the only thing I’ll have to do is watch daytime soap operas.” Rachel gave him a more genuine smile, relaxing once not being pushed.

“Sorry Timmy, doctor's orders, that's what happens when you're caught in a literal explosion.” She turned to look at the others.”Speaking of, what the hell was that about?” Damian stepped forward, gaze darting to the closed door before speaking.

“That is what I’d like to know. Now that I am reassured Drake is not at risk of anything more than boredom, I believe I will head out to see if I can get some answers.” They all heard his meaning, without him having to say it. While rare for Batman to go out during the day it was not unheard of. Especially when something of this nature occurs. Tim nodded and gave him a wave.

“Godspeed Pilgrim.”

Rachel looked at Damian and then back at Drake, guilt apparent on her face.

“I’m actually going to head out to Tim. I was in the middle of something before I got the call-”

“-And now that you know I’m okay you're going to abandon me with only Bruce to keep me company? I get it, leave me to suffer in this dreadful building. Abandon me in my time of need” Tim whined, so obviously playing it up that Rachel smirked.

“Ah yes, poor you.” After a moment of hesitation, she kissed the top of his head and pulled him into a tight hug. “Glad you’re okay Timmy. Love you.”

“Love you to Birdie.”

As Rachel began to say goodbye to the others Damian felt a twist of concern in his stomach and looked over to Jason once more. Who was staring at the younger girl intently.

“Actually Rach. Would you mind if I tagged along with you to Bludhaven?” Rachel turned to Jason slowly, suspicion etched on her face.

“Why?” Jason shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as possible.

“I left something at your place a couple weeks ago. I've been meaning to get it back. Figured I could swing by with you.”

“I could mail it.”

“Or I could pick it up today.”

A strange standoff occurred with both staring the other down. Until finally Rachel, after weighing her options, gave her own cavalier shrug, looking unbothered despite the tension in her shoulders.

“Fine. Come on.” She moved to exit but catching herself turned to Damian and pulled him into a quick hug. “I haven’t forgotten about lunch. It’s just been… a crazy week.” Damian returned the hug and forced himself to play it cool at the risk of alienating her.

“I will call you later to sort it out.” 

Rachel nodded and pulled away too soon for Damian's liking, and with a wave left the room with Jason dutifully following after her heels.

“Is it the potential concussion, or did she look rough?” Tim asked, sinking into his pillows. Bruce nodded and eased himself into the chair next to the bed.

“She has a lot on her shoulders.”

“Perhaps too much.” Damian responded under his breath, though not quiet enough for his Father not to hear him.

“She’ll come to us if she needs to.”

“Will she?” Tim countered, though not meanly. “I mean, I know I’m not the only one who has noticed since Spyral she has taken her independence to a new level.”

“As I recall,” Alfred interrupted, sitting down next to Tim’s bed. “Each of you also had your own bouts of ‘independence’ around this time as well. Miss Rachel is in the midst of finding herself and she will make mistakes, as did all of you. All we can do is be there to catch her if she falls.”

None of them responded to that, perhaps recalling a time when they too were young and clawing at the chance to be their own person. Damian remembered his own attempts of being someone independent from either his Father or his Mother. He just hoped Rachel would not make as many mistakes as he had.

Wayne Industries had five separate main branches in Gotham. The first and largest was in the center of downtown, large W leering from above, signifying to all, who the building belonged to. It was the building Damian remembered from his youth visiting his Father in, and more recently occasionally visiting Drake in. 

However, each side of Gotham Island also had smaller branches, each specific to a different business endeavor. While WI had shelters, food pantries, and clinics dotted around the city. The branches were designed as labs, testing centers, and manufacturing plants.  The branch Tim had visited today was manufacturing for basic electronics, and so had a lower level of security than the others, though still impressive.

An explosion here meant damage to the building and the people in it. But would have little effect on overall production, and more importantly would not have a chain reaction of damages. Like other buildings that dealt more with chemistry or biotechnology.

The crowds that had gathered at the time of the explosion had dissipated in the late afternoon sun. Leaving only a series of policemen guarding the perimeter as they waited for investigative teams to arrive. The fire trucks from earlier were gone and while the smell of smoke still lingered, it was clear the fire had been contained almost as quickly as it began.

Batman only received a small nod of acknowledgment as he pulled up and walked into the building. While Damian valued not being seen, it was less likely with the daylight beaming down, and he knew he would not be bothered as he got to work. 

Most of the building still stood tall. The lobby was practically untouched outside of a fine layer of soot and water. Damian had no need to investigate the offices that sprawled out away from the explosion, so he made his way deeper inside where the inventory was kept. The destruction from the blast seemed sporadic. Parts of the building were easily accessible, while parts now sat covered in rubble and debris. Damian passed the conference room Tim had been in and flinched as he saw parts of the ceiling lying on the long table and across the floor. Thankful not for the first time that everyone had made it out alright. 

The actual point of demolition was nearly leveled. The whole right-hand side of the building having collapsed neatly on top of itself as though by design. Damian pointed his gauntlet towards the area, and typing quickly on his wrist computer he scanned the ground. After a moment the computer beeped and scanning the reading he saw there had been four explosives tucked neatly against the supporting beams of the room. Designed to take them out at the base so they would fall. They had to have been timed somehow, and once again Damian wondered why the explosion was planned when everyone was out of harm's way.

He heard someone click on the comms and he spoke without waiting to see who it was.

“I don’t like it. It’s all too manufactured, it is clear someone set this up, but I cannot figure out why.”

“I was able to scan through some security footage.”

“And?” Oracle hesitated for a moment.

“The bombs were placed by a man named Daniel Griffin.”

“Your tone indicates that I should know who that is.”

“You don’t, but Rachel does.” Damian paused at that, not expecting the answer. “She arrested him a few weeks back during a sting on Blockbuster.” That didn’t make any sense.

“Why is the lacky of a Bludhaven crime lord blowing up buildings in Gotham?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like it. Want me to call N?” Damian’s first response was to say yes before the image of her from the hospital came to mind. It was clear his sister was exhausted, but more than that, Damian didn’t like the implications of someone working for Blockbuster targeting a Wayne building.

“No… I will investigate this without her assistance.”

“Or knowledge.” Oracle rightly guessed with a sigh. “ She’ll be pissed if she finds out.” Damian closed his eyes in irritation. 

“I know.”

He and Rachel had just gotten back on the right foot and doing this was risking her wraith. But regardless of Pennyworth’s advice, Damian was not willing to let his sister fall. Not if he could prevent her from getting pushed in the first place.

“I’ll send you his address.”

Bludhaven was an hour and a half away from Gotham, but Damian made it in 50 minutes. Texting Jason ahead of time to tell him to keep Rachel busy while he visited Griffin. Driving into the city, Damian wondered not for the first time why Rachel had decided to move there. As even in the early evening the streets were nearly barren. The only thing he could see as he drove was derelict buildings and knocked-over trash bins. Occasionally a person would scramble from one building to another, but they didn’t linger, and they never looked up from where their gaze was locked pointedly to the ground.

Daniel Griffin lived in a small worn-down apartment building on the top floor. It was easy for Damian to park the car and grapple to the roof, inching his way over to the ledge to kick his way through the window. Griffin for his part, flinched at the intrusion, but upon seeing Batman grew still with a sense of inevitability.  

“I knew this would bring in the Bats.” Without hesitating Damian stalked over and grabbing his neck threw him face-first onto his table, pressing him down.

“You set the bombs off at Wayne Industries, why?” 

“Orders from Blockbuster.”

“Blockbuster works in Bludhaven, why would he target Gotham?”

“It ain’t Gotham he’s targeted.” Damian pressed his face deeper into the wood grain. Griffin let out a grunt of pain but did not fight against it.

“Explain.”

“Everyone knows he has it out for the Grayson girl ever since what happened to his Ma.” Damian’s chest clenched as his sister was named, but didn’t interrupt. “My guess? He ain’t too pleased she’s in hiding. Wanted to send her a message that her days are numbered and if he can’t get to her, he’ll get to someone she loves.”

“So he targeted the Waynes?” The man snorted and turned his head to give Damian a look.

“Rachel Grayson may be a nobody here, but everyone knows she’s Gotham’s sweetheart. Blockbuster may not be willing to kill on Gotham soil just yet, but his restraint is slipping and this is only going to get worse the longer she stays alive. This only ends one way, her head on a plate.” Feeling his anger beginning to bubble, Damian let go of the man's neck before he did something he might regret.

“We’ll see.” Turning away he went towards the window, only to be stopped by the man speaking up behind him.

“You’re not going to get me arrested?”

“It is my understanding that the Bludhaven Police Department is inept enough that it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“You’re not wrong… Listen, I mentioned this to the other Bat, the girl, Nightwing. I told her last time that there was nothing worse than a sane man looking for a profit…. You tell her that I was wrong. You tell her, there’s nothing worse than a grieving man with a score to settle.”

The warning was genuine, and Damian felt his grip tighten around the window ledge he was leaning on. Fearing that this was just the beginning of an impending storm.

“Your advice is noted.”

***

Rachel’s apartment when Jason had visited previously had been worn down but clean. It hadn’t been the worst apartment Jason had been in by a long shot, despite the water stains and broken heater he knew Rachel hadn’t wanted him to notice. But it had been habitable. With dishes cleaned and laundry folded, food in the fridge and first aid in the bathroom.

Stepping into it now he couldn’t help but compare it to the state of unkempt his sister was physically wearing. As both seemed to be at the bottom of Rachel's priorities.

Laundry littered the floor and dishes covered the counter leaving almost no space to cook. Her kitchen aisle was covered in files and paperwork which he couldn’t get a look at before Rachel closed them. When Rachel walked in she took off her jacket and threw it into the living room, not even caring as it slid from the armchair straight onto the ground, blending into a pile of Nightwing equipment that had been left out.

A voice sounding suspiciously like Bruce whispered in his head that it was dangerous to leave hero supplies out in the open, but Jason ignored it. He wasn’t here to lecture Rachel and didn’t need to push her already tenuous hospitality.

His phone beeped from his pocket and pulling it out Jason read a short text from Damian.

‘Investigating a lead in Bludhaven, keep N busy.’

Jason closed his eyes, annoyance bubbling up at his older brother's recent inability to make the right call concerning Rachel. Placing his phone back in his pocket he forced himself to relax as he began moving dishes around.

“Geez Goldie, and I thought Timmy was bad. You really live like this?” Rachel shot him a glare, which yeah fair , before turning to the paperwork on her counter. “How old is this shit anyway? Some of these pans are growing their own ecosystems."

“It’s not that bad.” Jason gave her a look before flashing her a half-drunk mug of coffee with mold growing in it. She scrunched her nose and turned away. “Didn’t you say you needed to grab something?”

“Oh yeah, that was a lie.”

“ Jason .”

“Cool your jets birdie.” Jason said, piling dishes into the sink before opening her cabinets looking for something edible. “You look like a strong wind could blow you over. Big brother privileges say I get to come in and at the very least make you dinner.”

“I need to work”

“You need to eat.” Jason bit back, pulling out a box of spaghetti and an unopened jar of sauce. “You're withering away Rach, when’s the last time you had a proper meal?”

“That’s… Besides the point.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason grinned, turning to face her again. “And what is the point?”

“That I’m fine!”

“Cool, you’re fine. Congratulations. Pots?” Rachel stared at him for a moment, as though unsure if he was messing with her or not before pointing to a cabinet next to the stove. Jason pulled out a pot and filled it with water before setting it on the burner and turning the heat up to boil. Turning back around he peered down at Rachel who had climbed up on the stool next to the aisle and had begun looking through her files again. Jason watched her for a moment, taking in the heaviness of her shoulders as she flipped through pages and marked down whatever she was looking for. “You're not fine Goldie.”

“Jason-.”

“No. Just listen.” He interrupted, giving her look. “You’re not fine. You’ve been an inch from the edge ever since coming back and we’ve all been pretending that's not the case. Which is fine because healing takes time and it isn’t immediate and blah, blah, blah. But something happened and you're keeping it to yourself, and you're not acting like yourself, and I don’t like it. If you’re mad, fine, be mad. If you’re tired, be tired. But don’t pretend you're fine ok? Because you’re not.” Rachel looked mad and for a second Jason thought she was going to tell him to go to hell. Before she let out a heavy choked-up breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

“Do you ever feel like you're out of step with the world? Like even though you came back some part of you is still dead?” Jason felt his gaze soften as his chest twinged with heartache.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“I just-” Rachel cut herself off, staring into the middle distance trying to find the words she wanted. “I see the version of me that I was. The version of me that was happy and trusted people, and I see the version of me that exists now, and I want them to merge together. But they won’t. I can hear myself not being myself, you know?”

Jason knew what she meant. Had felt it himself when he had died and came back as a more jaded version of him. Had felt it in the way everyone looked at him, expecting the happy kid he once was, and disappointed by the version of him they got back.

“You don’t have to be the old version of you, Rachel.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because this new version keeps messing everything up!” Rachel threw her hands up, letting them slap on the counter with a thwack. “Because I want to be the me that I was. The me who could trust people. Who was kind and thought about others, instead of the me that only thinks about themself.”

“That’s bullshit.” Jason pushed back. “You’re destroying yourself for this city because you care, because you want to help it. Just because your edges are harder now doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart.” The sound of water bubbling over interrupted him and turning around he cursed and poured the spaghetti in, using a wooden spoon to get it all under the water. “You’re never going to be the person you were before all this shit happened. But that isn’t a bad thing Goldie. And even if you really don’t like the person you feel yourself becoming, then work to change it. You don’t like that you can’t trust as easily, then make the choice to do it in spite of yourself. Trust me.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Jason worried Rachel hadn’t taken him seriously until finally her voice spoke up from behind him.

“...Blockbuster is trying to kill me.” Jason felt his hand flinch but tried to quell any other reaction, instead he placed the spoon over the pot and turned back around to face Rachel who was looking at her hands.

“Okay.”

“Because I killed his Mom.” Come the fuck again?

“Okay… How did you kill his Mom?” Rachel took a deep breath and met Jason’s gaze, looking even more exhausted than a moment prior.

“She was in a car accident when I was on call. She had a heart attack and I couldn’t save her.” That sounded more like the Rachel he knew. Crossing his arms in front of his chest he gave her an unimpressed look.

“Considering the people you’ve actually killed Rachel, you know that’s not your fault.” Rachel flinched at that, which surprised Jason, to his knowledge his sister had been fine with the lives she took while at Spyral. Hell, he certainly hadn’t judged her, now he was wondering if that was still true.

“It feels like my fault, and Desmond agrees.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He had my supervisor killed.” 

“When?” 

“A few days ago.” Jason closed his eyes, trying not to let his frustration show.

“And now you think he’s after you?”

“... He may have threatened me”

“Rachel-”

“- I know.” She covered her face with her hands and scrubbed at it tiredly. “I know Jay. I know, it’s not good. But I’m working with an Officer to bring him down and I’ve upped my security. I’m being careful.”

“You should have told us.” Rachel looked up and gave him a sheepish smile.

“I’m telling you now?” Jason rolled his eyes and turned back to the spaghetti to stir it.

“You’re such a little shit. We call Damian the Demon Brat but honestly, you could give him a run for his money.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“Yeah, not going to happen, Goldie. As soon as we crossed into life-threatening shit client/patient confidentiality was off the table.”

“I can-”

“I swear to God, if you say you can handle it I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.” Jason turned around anger getting the better of him. “Regardless of the fact that we’ve told you you don’t have to go through this shit alone. I don’t particularly care if you can handle it. If any one of us were in this position you would help us. So suck it up and let us do the same for you.” Rachel looked mad, which Jason could understand even if he didn’t particularly care.

Draining out the water he poured the sauce in and let it heat up, stirring it in silence. Pulling out two bowls and two forks, he set them on the counter and began doling out the pasta into each. Setting down the pot he grabbed his own bowl and began eating. Pointedly not looking at Rachel as she grabbed her own.

“When I came back from the pit I felt like I had something to prove.” Jason began, in between bites, forcing levity into his tone. “Prove I was strong. Prove I was sane. Prove I was good… I didn’t have to prove any of that. I just needed to heal you know? And that’s easier said than done, but Goldie, you don’t have anything to prove. Not to us.”

For a moment Rachel stabbed around her bowl with a fork, mind marinating on Jason’s words. Before finally she looked up with a tentative smile.

“Thanks Jay.” Jason returned the smile.

“Anytime.” Rachel continued to move the food around, taking small bites occasionally as she thought.

“Hey Jay, you know what I think might help me get through all this?” Jason tilted his head in a question, gaze receptive. “If you could get me Kori’s number, I really think it would help me heal-” Jason threw his fork towards Rachel, purposefully missing her as she let out a surprised laugh.

“Brat.” He growled, fighting back his own amusement as Rachel continued to laugh. “Just a giant brat.”

***

Rachel knew she shouldn’t go for a walk alone. But while her talk with Jason had been productive it had left her feeling restless, and it was still a few hours until she would be able to escape on patrol.

Her street was quiet, nearly everyone was already inside after the rush to get home from a long day at work. Not many people tended to linger outside with the sun slowly dropping, though still glinting over the horizon. But she did see a few people here and there. A dog owner on a walk, baggies in hand, looking exhausted. A woman carrying grocery bags hurrying down the sidewalk to begin dinner. The owner of the corner bodega locking up and brushing past her with a nod. Nobody smiled, but it was still peaceful which was rare to find in Bludhaven. The cold air provided clarity from the day.

She could still feel anxiety rolling in her gut from the call that Tim was in the hospital. Even with the knowledge that he was okay. It had been so long since any of them had been hurt, the last time she could truly recall was Damian’s death, and it had frazzled her. Especially because she hadn’t seen her brother outside of costume in weeks.

Jasan too filled her thoughts. His understanding had been crucial in her return from Spyral. But his bluntness had also been jarring. While the others tended to treat her with gloves, Jason did not. Perhaps because they were the closest in age. It was nice to be called out on her bullshit, even if it had been a hard pill to swallow.

She had always known kindness and trust was a choice, they just used to be easier to make. Rachel could feel them at odds with the weariness and independence she had gained over the last year. She kept promising herself to be more mindful, but the execution had been lacking. It was almost a godsend that her brother had butted his way in.

Even if it was slightly irritating.

Taking a deep breath she allowed the cool fall air to envelop the inside of her nose, almost burning it with its crispness. It served to beat away the cobwebs that had been clinging to the edges of her mind all week.

Turning a corner she took another deep breath, but along with the relaxing pull of fresh air, she felt something settle inside her like a heavy pit.

Someone was following her.

Without turning Rachel darted her gaze around, from alleyways to rooftops, to open windows. Finding nothing in front of her she turned her senses behind and straining her ears she could hear two heavy footfalls more than a couple feet away. Inconspicuous enough that Rachel wasn’t afraid of being jumped, but close enough that she knew they were following after her.

She kept her gaze forward and her features calm, not picking up speed or doing anything to signify that she knew. With a lazy gaze, she looked right and then left before crossing diagonally across the street, jogging for a moment to avoid a car that was turning down the lane. Getting to the other side she turned down another street corner and speared a quick look to see two men watching traffic to cross the street after her. She walked a couple yards away before crossing onto a new street and turning down a random alleyway. Once completely out of sight, she let herself speed up as she zig-zagged around. Not running, but moving with intention to ensure she lost them.

She was just passing another random alleyway when a hand darted out and grabbed her, pulling her in. Immediately Rachel started punching, she knew it would be useless to scream in Bludhaven, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fight.

The person who grabbed her grunted when a few hits landed before a hand caught her fist and a quiet voice spoke.

“It’s me.”

Rachel stopped flailing, both in surprise and in familiarity. You have got to be fucking kidding me .

“What are you doing here?” 

Catalina smirked but didn’t release Rachel’s hand, instead she pulled her deeper into the alleyway.

“You know you’ve got two of Desmond’s men tailing you?”

“I’m aware, that’s why I lost them.” Came Rachel’s reply, too irritated to feign politeness.

“You haven’t been out in a few days. I was worried.” Rachel gapped at the brazen admittance, she pulled back but was stopped by Catalina’s hand still holding her fist.

“Are you following me?”

“I’m worried.”

“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.” Unlike with Jason, the words were said not out of arrogance or independence, but out of a desire to get Catalina to leave her alone. Catalina just gave her another condescending look and took a step forward, which Rachel countered back, knocking into the wall behind her.

“Or I can take care of you.” She said, taking another step closer so Rachel was pinned between her and the wall.

“I’m not interested.”

“You keep saying that Querida.” Catalina responded, lowering her face so it was closer to Rachel’s, “But I don’t believe you.” Catalina leaned forward to kiss her and Rachel jerked roughly back, wincing as her head hit the brick behind her. The hand not holding Rachel's went around her neck, keeping her in place as Catalina pressed into her harder.

For a moment Rachel was shocked and froze under the touch, to which Catalina seemed to take as encouragement. As her hand slid from her neck to her chest and her other hand let go of Rachel’s fist to grab her waist. This seemed to snap Rachel out of her stupor as panic came flooding in and she pushed roughly against Catalina’s chest to get her off. 

When Catalina still resisted, Rachel pushed harder, sending the other woman off her and to the ground with a huff.

Rachel felt out of breath, though couldn’t tell if it was from the kiss or from the panic in her chest that sent uncomfortable flares up her spine. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Rachel huffed, feeling a moment away from a breakdown. Catalina’s surprise turned to anger, but she quickly smothered in a veneer of understanding. 

“I understand that this is a difficult time for you, but I just want to-”

“I said no.” Rachel interrupted, moving towards the sidewalk, “I am not interested. I will not become interested. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.” Catalina gave her a look.

“No, you don’t.” The response gave Rachel the urge to cry.

“Yes, I do.”

“ No, you don’t .” Catalina pressed standing up and taking a step closer. “You’re scared, you don’t know who to trust. You can trust me. I will protect you.” Rachel shook her head, breath leaving her quicker at the realization that Catalina didn’t particularly care whether Rachel said no or not.

“Leave me alone.” And she spun and ran out of the alley before Catalina could make another move. For a moment Rachel just ran, feeling overwhelmed, and overstimulated as her only goal was to get away. 

Eventually, she slowed and moving to an enclave she sank down and hugged her chest to her knees. Her hands were unbearably cold with panic and her gaze darted around frantically for the threat Rachel felt was about to pounce. The spots where Catalina touched her didn’t burn, but Rachel was incredibly aware of them, and more importantly aware of Catalina’s commitment that Rachel couldn’t seem to shake.

Looking around, Rachel realized as well that she had no idea of where the hell she was. Her only intent had been to get away and get away fast so she hadn't bothered keeping track of where she went. Burying her head in her hands she felt tears beginning to pool out as her whole body barreled its way towards a meltdown. She was tired, she was overwhelmed, and just just wanted to cry.

You can’t break down here. It’s too dangerous .

With a shaky hand Rachel pulled out her phone. But instead of the personal cell she thought she had grabbed she found Midnighters burner. She hesitated for a moment, but when she felt a sob beginning to build in her chest she ignored the uncertainty and called the first of the two numbers programmed into it.

“So Dorothy knows how to use a phone? I was beginning to wonder if our time together was a dream. You know I was just telling Auntie Em-”

“Midnighter .” Rachel flinched at how distraught she sounded, but it served its purpose because almost as soon as she uttered his name a door appeared in front of her. Blocking Bludhaven from her view as it swung open.

“Get in here kid.”

Chapter Text

“Get in here kid.”

It was a testament to her mental state that Rachel neither balked at being called ‘kid’ nor denied the command, as she threw herself into the wooden doorway without a word. Barely taking note as the door swung shut behind her, leaving the grimy stained streets of Bludhaven thousands of miles behind. 

Midnighter for his part, also did not hesitate as he gripped her arm and pulled her over to a plush and inviting cotton-covered couch, pushing her to sit with a gentle but firm hand. 

The windows were open, causing a cool breeze to blow against the linen curtains as they lazily moved where they hung. Unlike the last time Rachel was here, the sky was a deep dark navy, indicating it was late into the night in France. But the lack of pollution and clouds allowed the stairs and moon to shine brightly down on the fields. Illuminating nearly everything in sight.

Almost immediately Rachel felt her breathing calm, some primitive cog in her brain telling her she was safe now that she was inside and away from even the barest hint of danger. But still, her body felt jittery and cold, and her fingers shook as she pushed her hair out of her face and rested her head in her hands. Fingers digging into her temple harshly, as though willing herself to get a grip.

She felt Midnighter’s bare hand take one of hers, as he felt for the pulse in her wrist. Looking up she noticed that he was dressed down in his civilian clothes, his attention on her hand as he felt for each heartbeat. He looked so unimposing, so gentle, and that was not an adjective she would have ever ascribed to the man before.

Without her permission a short keening noise pulled out of her and lifting her other hand, she pressed it to her mouth before another one could escape. Turning her gaze away from Midnighter before she could catch his eye, she pressed her fingers harder into the sides of her mouth.

You're fine. This is fine. You're overwhelmed, you're tired, you want to cry. You will not cry because that’s a ridiculous thing to do, because you’re fine.

Another desperate sound slipped out of her against her will, and despite the panic being gone, the meltdown she had felt on the edge of in the alleyway was beginning to push through her cracks. It took just one more cry, this one joined by a stubborn tear rolling down her cheek before she felt Midnighter pull her into a tight hug from where he was kneeling in front of her. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re alright.”

The words were genuine, and because it was Midnighter, unbearably awkward. It was clear the man was not used to being the comforter and the panic in his tone would have made Rachel snort if she wasn’t trying not to sob. Midnighter continued,

“You gotta cry, cry, ain’t nobody here but us chickens, and I’ll squawk back at them if they make a fuss.”

The image of that did pull a laugh out of Rachel, and she felt Midnighters arms relax slightly at the sound. With a heavy exhale she felt the tears begin to pour silently from her. Now that she wasn’t trying to be quiet the sounds came softer than before. Just a steady and consistent weep as the stress of the last month, hell the last year, seemed to finally break out of the neat box she had stuffed it in.

Part of her thought she should be embarrassed, but Midnighter was just enough of a stranger and just enough of a friend, that it felt okay for him to see her like this. Part of her felt like a child, but for all the man’s habit of calling her ‘kid,’ she knew he would never treat her like one.

The crying didn’t last long once she let it out and after a few minutes, she pulled herself from his hold and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. Still avoiding his gaze, she leaned back into the sofa as he shifted to sit fully on the floor. 

“I thought you didn’t do hugs?” She joked, trying to make light of everything.

“Looked like you needed it, and I’m an asshole but I’m not that big of an asshole…Christ kid…What the hell happened?” 

“Sorry I called you so late.”

From her peripheral vision she could see him wave a hand, dismissing her apology.

“Clearly you needed it.”

“Where’s Andrew?”

“Off with Pretty Boy.” Rachel frowned, not expecting that answer.

“Why is he with Tiger?”

“Checking a lead on Matron. Just got back from checking my own when you called. We think we’re closing in on a potential location.” Rachel closed her eyes and nodded, a part of her wanted to offer to help, but a larger part of her knew that she couldn’t afford to be away from Bludhaven for long with Desmond losing it. “Heard you two broke up.”

“We did… Want to offer your condolences?”

Midnighter snorted loudly, sounding much more like himself than before.

‘’Fuck no, now that Agent Sexy is back on the market me and Apollo are propositioning him.”

The image of the two men trying to convince Tiger into a threesome was so ridiculous that Rachel felt a snort of her own escape.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

For a moment the two fell silent again, Rachel kept her eyes closed, enjoying the air on her skin and the relief of not feeling someone’s eyes on her back. For the last few weeks, whether it was Desmond’s men or Catalina, Rachel couldn’t escape the feeling that someone was following her. The hairs on the back of her neck were perpetually raised, and a minute never went by without her looking over her shoulder.

Here it was peaceful. It was no wonder why Midnighter and Apollo settled out in the country, especially with the portals he could create on a whim.

“You gotta talk to me, Rachel. You call me, sounding wrecked, show up here looking like you're on the edge of a panic attack. You look - and I hope you take this the wrong way - like absolute shit. What the hell is going on?”

Midnighter had called her many things in the months they’d known each other, her name was not one of them. 

With a heavy breath, she finally opened her eyes and caught his gaze. He looked completely and utterly perplexed, incredibly uncomfortable, and like the last thing he wanted to do was talk about her feelings.  

But he also looked determined. His uncovered face showed bright green eyes staring at her expectantly. Not willing to let either of them weasel out of this.

“It’s been… It’s been a really bad few weeks.”

Once she began talking it was hard to stop, if only because unlike her brothers or friends Rachel did not need to censor herself. She often had to minimize the weight of her work from her family out of fear that they would assume she couldn’t carry it. She often had to soften her anger and resentment from her friends out of fear that they would be disgusted by it. But Midnighter had met her as Agent 37, someone who no longer existed, and that felt like freedom.

She talked about Desmond and Bludhaven, about the death of her supervisor, about the mark on her back. About the anger and guilt she felt every time her brain drifted to it, and though she was loathed to admit it, the fear. She spoke about Tim’s accident, about worrying for her family while also desperately needing to be away from them. She spoke of her and Jason’s conversation from a couple of hours ago and how every day she felt more and more like a stranger to herself. Midnighter hemmed and hawed when appropriate, letting the occasional barb or word interrupt her flow.

But It wasn’t until she spoke of Catalina and her unwanted advances that he truly reacted. As soon as she confided that the other women had not taken no for an answer, and had in fact only become more and more physical, she saw a dark glint cross her face. 

“Want me to kill her?” The question was so genuine that it made Rachel smile because she knew that the man would do it. A part of her wanted him to do it, if only because it would be one less thing to worry about and she would stop feeling so… dirty. 

Every time she thought of Catalina a red hot flush of shame would inevitably crawl its way up her throat. Like she had done something wrong, and wanted no one to find out about it. Rachel wanted to stop feeling embarrassed for something that wasn’t even her fault, that she had no control over.

Almost immediately though the thought made her feel guilty. She was a hero, she was supposed to save people, not kill them.

The line had been blurred at Spyral. The distance and trauma had made it easy to excuse the lives she took. Especially because it was for a mission she had no say in going on. Even as she thought about it now she wasn’t especially guilty for her actions. But she was scared by them, how easy it was to justify taking a life. She would kill to protect her family, there was no question in that. But she was also supposed to be a hero, Nightwing was supposed to be better than Rachel Grayson. She needed at least one part of her to feel pure.

“I think I’m probably not a good person.”

Midnighter sent her a look at that, his face unimpressed.

“Kid. If you’re no good then what hope is there for the rest of us?”

She couldn’t do this, the blanket of praise and trust that people layered on her. Like she was some incredibly and unbelievably special person. Like she alone was the key to human kindness.

“Everyone thinks that of me, but if you all could live in my head you would see how cruel I can be.”

“Thoughts aren't what define us.”

“And what, actions are?”

“Yeah. They are.” She looked back up at Midnighter, who was staring her down. “What we choose to do is who we choose to be. And who we choose to be is what matters, not every mean thought that crosses our mind. Hell, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t occasionally trip up kid. But I think you’re underestimating yourself because the fact of the matter is, you choose almost every day to try to be good and that's more than a lot of people do.”

“But you're wrong.” She pressed, needing to be understood. “I don’t know how I’ve tricked everyone into thinking I’m making these great choices, but I know that I’m not.” Midnighter scoffed,

“You’re not that smart kid, and I sure as hell ain’t that dumb. We aren't collectively falling under your ruse. And sure, sometimes you're an asshole, but about 99% of the time you are so subconsciously good that you can’t even see that you’re doing it, which is why you feel like some monster.” Midnighter looked away, a look of concentration on his face. “I think being kind to you is like breathing. You don’t gotta think to do it, you just do it. It ain’t that way for everyone. Trust me.”

Rachel let out a heavy sigh, still feeling like Midnighter wasn’t getting it.

“I hear you, but I can pinpoint every moment I haven’t been nice today alone-” Midnighter held up a hand, stopping her train of thought.

“I didn’t say anything about being nice. Nice ain’t good or kind, kid. Nice is the polish you put on top of something, not the heart of it. You can be kind and be a dick, hell you have been kind and a dick. That isn’t a reflection of your morals. Actions and not words, right? You can polish the top of a wood floor but it won’t do you any good if it’s already rotting underneath. But if you put an ugly carpet over a good foundation then at the very least you still have a sturdy thing to walk on.”

It made sense.

In a way that the cheap reassurances of her goodness had not.

Hell, the whole of her family had fallen into the trap of not having a nice word to say to anyone, but still being there to help. Rachel had just never ascribed it to herself as she had always been the nice one. Without the ever-present smile of her youth, and patience she had curated around much hotter heads, she had felt that she had lost some integral part of herself that made her a hero. 

But maybe she had just lost the ability to pretend she was fine when she wasn’t.

“Thank you.”

Midnighter waved her away again, eyes still looking off into the distance, as though it pained him to be honest.

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t said anything that isn’t true.” 

Rachel continued to look at him, and for the first time since meeting him, she saw a softness that she knew few realized was there. He had worked for the Gardner, she wondered sometimes how much of it had been by force. How much of his choices in life had been taken away from him? And even still, he chose to help, masking the act away with a veneer of indifference and snark.

“You’re kind too Midnighter.”

Finally he turned to face her, a self-deprecating smirk already crossing his face.

“Nah. I’m just a guy trying to get the thing he wants. Anything that comes out of that is collateral. Good or bad.”

“And what do you want?”

“... To be left alone, with my husband, in peace.”

Rachel knew he wasn’t talking about her. Knew he was talking about the organizations and institutions that dug their claws into all of them and twisted out every last ounce of usefulness they could get. She wondered, not for the first time, how Midnighter came to be, and why. But her friend was beginning to bear the signs of fatigue that came from confessions, and she knew that was one thread she didn’t want to pull on. At least that night anyway.

“What do you want, kid?”

Rachel thought about all the things she had told Tiger while working in Spyral. All the things she had told her siblings since coming back. She would never not want to help, but choosing any future for herself seemed impossible.

“Everywhere I look things seem awful. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it through next week, let alone this life. I don’t have the time to think about what I want to come next. It’ll come when it comes.”

“No, it won’t.” Midnighter gave her a smile, a little less sharp but still a little bitter. “Got to sow the seeds of tomorrow today. Got to know where you’re going to know what direction to go in. Otherwise you're just fighting blind.”

“Yeah.”

Perhaps understanding that Rachel's threads were also done being pulled, Midnighter didn’t push. Instead, he stood up and started walking to another room that Rachel suspected was the kitchen.

“You eat before you came here?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” There was the clinking noise of things being moved around before Midnighter returned carrying a bottle and two whiskey glasses. “Means if I give you a drink you won’t end up throwing it up on my sofa. Andrew would be pissed.”

“I’m eighteen.”

Midnighter seemed surprised at that for a moment before shaking his head and pouring some amber liquid into one of the glasses.

“I forgot for a second, you got too much weight on your shoulders kid, if anyone needs a drink it’s you.” He held up the glass and Rachel hestated, not because she had never drunk before, but it seemed terribly grown up compared to the few times she and Wally had taken liquor from the rarely opened cabinet in Bruce’s study. Midnighters gaze softened, “If you’re old enough to go to war, I reckon you're old enough for a drink. You don’t need to take it, but like I said, if anyone needs one, it’s you.”

She took the glass from his hand and he poured himself his own drink, before clinking his glass to her’s and taking a sip. 

“To world peace.” He muttered, causing Rachel to snort again as she took a small drink. The liquor was smooth enough not to burn, but warm enough that she could feel it travel down her chest in a comforting line.

When she was sixteen she had been caught by Jason coming back from a party and he had pulled her aside for what she had assumed would be a lecture.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a drink.”

He began like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Just don’t let it become the thing you need to get through the day. We see a lot of bad in 

the world Goldie. It may be tempting to numb it all, but the only thing that's going to do is 

cause more pain.”

It was around that time she knew Roy was at the tail end of his own battles, and she had taken the warning to heart.

Taking a sip now she could see how one could become dependent on it. On the allure of being numb. But she figured one drink would not hurt her.

She stayed for a while after that, neither her nor Midnighter’s glass getting refilled once they finished their first. 

The two spent the time partially in silence, lost in their own thoughts. When they did speak it was closer to the usual banter they had, but still somewhat subdued. Like a secret at a sleepover. It wasn’t until the first sign of a potential dawn that she figured she best be going. Her own patrol for the night would be a wash, as it would already be around 2am in Bludhaven. But while she longed to stay in the comforting folds of the faraway country home, she could only be absent for so long before someone noticed.

Perhaps sensing the mood change, Midnighter summoned a door to her apartment and after a moment of hesitation gave her the quickest hug Rachel thought she ever received.

“Don’t go around telling people about this kid, it wouldn't do well for anyone to think I’ve gone soft.”

“ I’d be friends with the sparrows, and the boy who shoots the arrows, if I only had a heart. ” She sang quietly, laughing as Midnighter gave her a gentle push through the doorway.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

There was no heat in his words and Rachel was about to call him out on it when something caught her eye.

Looking at her apartment, alarm bells went off in her head.

Everything was put away. The clothes she had thrown around on the floor were gone, the trash clustering the tables and counters presumably thrown out, the dishes Jason had been nice enough to clean were no longer in the drying rack. 

Her brother had straightened up some of her things after dinner, but aside from moving her Nightwing gear to her hidden closet compartment (with a look reminiscent of Bruce), he hadn’t touched a thing before heading out.

Someone has been in my apartment .

“Kid? What’s wrong?”

The civility was gone and replaced with weariness, as Rachel slowly stepped back over the threshold and closed the door.

“I need you to take me to the Clocktower.”

Perhaps sensing the unease, Midnighter did not question the request and after banishing the doorway away, he conjured another one.

“Need me to go with you?”

Rachel appreciated the offer but shook her head. There was a chance this was all a misunderstanding and one of her siblings had come by without asking. Though a quiet voice in the back of her head dismissed the thought. 

Opening the door she was greeted by the sight of Barbara and Stephanie staring at the doorway in apprehension. Stephanie was dressed in her Spoiler costume though the hood was down, no doubt she had swung by during patrol. Both of them relaxed when they saw Rachel, but only just, as she was sure something on her face clued them into something being wrong.

Before she fully crossed she looked over at Midnighter who was standing just out of sight.

“Thanks for everything M. Really.”

“Anytime, kid.”

Walking through she let the door swing shut behind her, letting it disappear and leaving her standing in the middle of the Clocktower. While Barbara was watching Rachel closely, Stephanie was still gaping at where the door had been.

“Rachel, do you hang out with murderous old men regularly? Or is this a new hobby of yours? Because I got to say, you should just take up knitting.”

“Midnighter isn’t that old.”

“Okay, so that doesn’t answer my question-”

“Someone broke into my house.” That shut Stephanie up, as immediately any teasing or befuddlement was sharpened into concern.

“Who?”

“That’s what I’d like to find out… O?” Before she could even say the woman’s name Oracle was spinning around in her chair, minimizing whatever it was she had been working on as she began pulling up security footage.

“When were you last at home?”

“Around 7.”

“Was anything taken?”

“I don’t know.” Rachel confessed, “Midnighter opened a portal for me but when I stepped through I saw everything had been cleaned, I asked him to bring me here instead.” She saw Stephanie smirk despite the situation.

“Damn N, how bad was your place if being clean was a red flag?”

“Time and place, Steph.” Chided Barbara as images of Rachel’s living room filled the screen. 

Part of her new security measures were cameras installed in every room of her place. A layer of privacy that Rachel only truly trusted Barbara with. Rewinding it for a while, Rachel watched as the time ticked backward, the hours speeding by without any agitation before her living room window opened at around nine, and a body moved backwards into Rachel’s living room.

Once the person was fully standing Rachel felt her heart drop.

“Hold up. Rachel is that you’re fucking stalker? Came Stephanie's voice beside her, indignation making way to rage.

Rachel watched as the video continued zooming backward and Catalina’s cleaning made way for the mess that Rachel had left. A moment of pure relief filled her as she saw the woman pass the area where just a few hours earlier Jason had moved her Nightwing gear from. 

“Looks like it.”

As they reversed the footage, Rachel cultivated an understanding of what happened. That Catalina had broken into her apartment, cleaned up after her, perhaps in an attempt to be thoughtful, and had taken a few things from Rachel’s shelves. Knickknacks and pictures Rachel had lying around were taken and now belonged to Catalina. The thought made her angry, but she said nothing as the three women tracked Catalina’s progress, switching cameras as Catalina’s path traveled backward through the hall, bathroom, and then bedroom. 

When they got to the beginning of the break-in they hit forward and watched as Catalina climbed through Rachel’s bedroom and began moving through the space. Stealing one of Rachel's sweaters and holding it up to her mouth to breathe into it before she moved forward in the path they had already seen in reverse.

For some reason, it was the taking of her clothes that made Rachel feel particularly sick.

“What the fuck.” Rachel looked over at Stephanie who was watching the video over Barbara’s shoulder in revulsion. Oracle was also watching the video tensely, but didn’t say anything. “What the actually fuck. That's not okay, that's so not fucking okay. That's just…. What the fuck!” 

“Steph calm down.” Stephanies panicked gaze darted to Rachel, her eyes growing wider.

“Um, I will absolutely not fucking calm down Rach. We need to call the fucking police or Damian.”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to veto that.” Stephanie continued to gap at her before turning to Barbara for help.

“O, talk some sense into her, I’m begging you.”

“Stephanie's right Rachel, we need to take care of this. She’s escalating and I don’t like it.”

“I’ll take care of it, really, I don’t love it but if anything this is just a reaction to what happened today. I doubt she would be this brazen again.”

“What the hell happened today?” Rachel’s mouth snapped shut as she cursed herself for letting that slip, Stephanie groaned at the silence and ran a frustrated hand through her blonde hair. “What could have possibly happened? You were at the hospital with the rest of us, and then you were with Jason, then you went off with ‘Murder Portal Guy’. When could you have possibly had time to get in trouble?” Rachel felt an affronted look cross her face and Stephanie backtracked. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why are you assuming this is my fault?” 

Stephanie blanched.

“I’m not, I didn’t mean it like that, but Rachel whatever the hell is happening is not okay.”

“You don’t have to fucking tell me that Steph, I know, I’m the one living it.”

“Living what?” Interrupted Barbara, before a row could begin. “What happened today Rachel?” The familiar feeling of shame started creeping in, and Rachel tried her best to push it down.

“I... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sorry Girl Wonder, that’s not going to fly right now.” Barbara said, piercing her with an expectant look that Rachel knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore.

“It’s… First off it’s fine, or well not fine… I’m fine. After Jay stopped by I went on a walk-”

“In Bludhaven, while a psychotic ganglord is after you, fucking great idea N.”

“Stephanie.”

Stephanie stopped talking at the sharp rebuke of Babs and simply crossed her arms angrily and leaned against the console.

“I went on a walk, and I knew someone was following me so I lost them. But when I lost them I ran into Catalina and she said… She indicated that she had been following me. Said she was worried about me and I told her to leave me alone, but she just kept pushing and then she grabbed me and I told her to let go but she wouldn’t…” Rachel looked away embarrassed. “She kissed me, and I pushed her off and told her no but I guess she wasn’t really taking that as an answer.”

It was silent for a moment, Rachel not looking at either woman but feeling their gaze burning into her.

“I’ll fucking kill her.” The statement was so heavy and sincere that it seemed at odds with everything Stephanie usually radiated. “I’m going to kill her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not just going to let her get away with this O!”

“I didn’t say that.” Snapped Barbara, short enough to cause Rachel to turn back to the woman who was still staring at her. “I’m filing a police report.”

“Bab’s-”

“That wasn’t a request, Rachel. It was a statement.” Turning in her chair she began typing, pulling up the BPD database. “I understand not wanting to report Tarantula in case it connects you to Nightwing, but she did this as Catalina Flores, as a federal agent. I’m submitting a report.”

Perhaps too tired to argue, Rachel simply watched as Oracle pulled up Catalina’s account to tie her badge number to the report. However, something caught all three of their eyes as they took in her file.

“Your officer friend, Rohrbach, has been updating this.” Said Barbara, pulling up the notes section of the file. Rachel felt her stomach drop, every interaction she and Catalina had at crime scenes had been marked down by Amy as a red flag, along with other notes on Catalina’s inappropriate behavior. “Rachel, you didn’t mention it was this bad.”

“It’s not. It’s annoying but I can handle it.” 

“You don’t have to handle it, Rach.” Came Steph’s response, softening as she the screen. “When you're vigilantes it’s one thing, but this is a grown woman acting this way around a child.”

“ I am not a child .” Rachel snarled, feeling unusually tender. Stephanie flinched slightly at the tone and met her gaze.

“You’re right, you’re eighteen years old. And, I love you Rach, but Catalina is older than me and I never once for a minute would ever think about making the moves on an eighteen-year-old. But putting that aside, you said no, she didn’t respect that, and that's not okay.”

“I know that.” She did, Rachel just didn’t understand why it was bothering her so much that other people were explaining to her why it was wrong.

“She’s got a record.” Both women turned back to Oracle who had moved onto another page in Catalina’s file. “The reason she’s in Bludhaven isn’t just because of Desmond, she was relocated after a complaint was filed against her by someone in her old office that she made unwanted physical advances.”

“Why the hell wasn’t she fired?” Stephanie asked, anger creeping back into her tone.

“The person who submitted it was in an accident on the day of her internal hearing. The whole thing was expunged, I only found it because I was looking for it.”

“What sort of accident?” Rachel pressed, the unease returning in full force.

“Car. The woman’s break line was cut, she barrelled through a redlight and was t-boned.” It sounded insane, it sounded like something no one would actually do. But Rachel had seen enough in the world to know it was possible for a person to take things that far, and the more she got to know Catalina, the more likely it seemed. “You need to file a restraining order.”

Rachel let out a heavy breath and moved away from the computer, running a hand through her hair.

“Don’t think that will help much O.”

“It will if she breaks it.”

Rachel wanted to point out that arrests in Bludhaven stuck about as well as uncooked pasta thrown against a wall. But then she thought of Amy, and the promise she had made to her as Nightwing.

“Okay.” She heard both Stephanie and Barbara make a noise of relief. “I’ll call Amy, I’ll set things up.”

“Thank you.” For a moment Barbara and Seph shared a loaded glance. “We won’t tell the boys but you’re going to let Spoiler take you home and set up a few additional security measures…. You won’t like it but I also expect you to message me every time you leave your apartment so I can monitor it.”

“Barbara.”

“It’s either that or get Batman involved, and I know you really don’t want to do that.” No , she didn’t want any of her brothers to know about Catalina. Especially when their knowledge of Desmond was already bad enough.

“Fine.”

Stephanie crossed over to her and after a moment of hesitation placed her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. She looked at her with a strange sort of understanding that Rachel didn’t even want to begin to unpack.

“I know you think this isn’t a big deal or that you can handle it all yourself. I know you’re probably pissed off at us because you think we’re treating you like a child. But Rach… You are young, and even if you weren't, what she’s doing isn’t okay. I much rather you be mad at me than feel like you're in this by yourself.”

“I’m tired of everyone deciding for me what the best choice is.”

Stephanie let out a heavy breath and gave her a small nod.

“I get that and we’re not trying to take away your autonomy. But we can’t sit around and do nothing when we can see you need help.” It reminded Rachel of Amy’s words to her as Nightwing, it wasn’t condescending but Spoilers words held a weight to them.

As a woman, I can say that the older I get, the more I feel like it’s my responsibility to protect someone younger than me when they’re put in a position they shouldn’t be in .

Amy had told her, and Rachel wondered if it was a sentiment Stephanie shared as well.

***

In the end, Rachel had in-fact put her foot down after Stephanie had dropped her off at her apartment and set up the few extra security measures Oracle had sent them off with. 

Stephanie had wanted to walk Rachel to the precinct and request a TRO. But Babs had already submitted a police report using her contacts and the sun was already beginning to wearily peek over the horizon, pink streaks saturating the heavy Bludhaven air. Rachel was exhausted and in the art of compromise, Stephanie had conceded that Rachel could submit it later that afternoon after she had gotten some rest.

When Stephanie left Rachel considered how likely it was that she could push off the whole affair for a few more days. But knew that Oracle would be watching vigilantly for the report to come across her screens and the last thing she wanted was for any more of her family to be set on her.

When she went into the police station that afternoon Amy wasn’t there, but an officer Rachel didn’t know helped her submit the TRO and get a judge on the line to approve it. Oracle had done some backdating to log in a few altercations into Catalina’s file and perhaps far too used to approving these types of requests, the judge had allowed it without much questioning. 

Hours of paperwork and waiting later Rachel walked away with a promise that Catalina would be served the notice that day, with a hearing for the final restraining order scheduled just a week later. 

She did not envy the officers who had to serve the paperwork to Catalina but hoped at the very least it would be somewhat of an awakening to the woman that Rachel wasn’t just playing hard to get.

She spent the next few nights patrolling as Nightwing and hunkering down as Rachel. Feeling relief as she neither ran into Tarantula nor Catalina as the days progressed.

Even so Bludhaven felt sweltering, despite the turning seasons causing the wind to cut through her without the protection of a cape.

Everyday Rachel lived, it seemed Desmond grew more and more volatile and the streets were bleeding with tension and apprehension. Everyone collectively waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So when Donna invited her to New York for a coffee date Rachel was quick to accept, if only for a slight reprieve from the heaviness of her chosen city. The drive went by quickly and soon enough Rachel was engulfed in Donna’s arms as her wonder twin pulled her into a tight hug.

Donna always smiled like a coastline. Like air and sea and sand, Rachel felt her whole body relax at the scent of her. 

The two didn’t say much as they grabbed coffees and strolled around until they found a secluded urban park that seemed untouched by the chaos of the rest of the city.

“Long time no see Girl Wonder.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

“A few weeks where I’ve only had the boys to talk to, I need respite.” Rachel smiled and took a sip of her drink, the hot liquid warming her face against the strong November breeze. Donna, Wally, and Garth had seemed to move in together just as quickly as the suggestion had been posed. 

Rachel was not jealous. She was not .

“Going that good huh?” 

Donna let out a bereaved sigh that held no real heat.

“Wally eats his way through the kitchen every other day and Garth doesn’t understand how towels work. Our wood floors are already warping from the water damage.” Donna shook her head. “I love them but sometimes they talk and I’m struck by how much they don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Everything.” Donna said, waving her hand around. “Like I’d heard of weaponized incompetence, and they're not doing it on purpose, but I don’t think I ever realized how different they must view the world. The lack of… worry they have.”

She knew what Donna meant, she had seen it before. It’s not that Wally or Garth (or Jon or Bart or a myriad of other heroes) didn’t understand the stakes of their position as crime fighters. Or the dangers of the world. But they always seemed to see the danger as a thing distinct from them. Rachel wondered if it was a byproduct of powers because her brothers had never had quite the same level of carefree. Though perhaps it was a byproduct of not being raised in Gotham where danger followed everyone.

“Sometimes I feel more like their Mother than their friend and I know they don’t mean it, but I guess I just didn’t expect it.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel responded though she knew she held none of the fault. Donna shook her head.

“Don’t be, it’s just…. I wanted to live on my own because I wanted to experience the world without Diana standing right behind me. And I’m happy, I am, but it all also feels…”

“Really, really fucking big?” Donna gave her a smile and nodded.

“Yeah. Was that what it was like for you? At ‘the-place-that-shall-not-be-named’?” Rachel shook her head with a smile as she thought about Spyral.

“No. It actually felt more contained than Gotham. I wasn’t alone, not really. I always had someone telling me where to go and what to do. I do feel it in Bludhaven though.”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like every day I’m David facing down Goliath and it terrifies me. But then one of my family members comes in swinging a sword and I get frustrated because it’s my battle to win, not theirs.”

Donna hummed for a moment, taking the lid off her coffee and watching the little wisps of steam curl and rise out of it.

“They don’t get it do they? The ‘adults’.”

“We’re adults.” Rachel bit back wincing slightly as Donna gave her a knowing look.

“ Our adults then. The adult adults. Even Diana for all her talk about independence and acceptance chaffed a bit when I left. Like it was a personal attack on her. Maybe it’s because we’re the youngest. Maybe for all their talk about it being okay to make mistakes and fall, they don’t actually believe it. And God forbid we ever mention a concern to them or try to talk to them like equals about what we’re going through-”

“-Because they’ll take it as an admission that we’re in over our heads and steal back the reins.” Rachel finished, slightly bitterly. Perhaps that was the reason it felt harder to talk to her siblings these days. It was because anytime she mentioned something bad they took it as a sign she couldn’t handle it, as opposed to just a complaint.

“You should move to New York. Maybe with all of us together; you, me ,Garth and Wally, they’d leave us alone. Like with the Team or the Outlaws.” Rachel shook her head.

“Nah. We would all just be in a concentrated spot for everyone to come down on us.”

“A grim take, don't you think Wing?” Donna’s words were casual but Rachel could hear the question in them. The silent ‘ you good?’ her friend was asking her.

“I thought when I came back from my… travels, I would feel more emboldened in everything. But anytime I manage to take control over my life, someone is there to take it back again. And I love my family, I do, but I’m getting really tired of it and I don’t know what to do.”

“You steal it back.” Donna responded, an annoyed glint in her eye, though not directed at Rachel. “We don’t fall to get back up, we fall because someone pushes us and we get back up to push back. You told me that Rach. So push back and push hard.”

“I’m trying.” Rachel didn’t like how soft her voice had gotten all of a sudden so with another sip of coffee she cleared her throat. “I’m trying to push back Don. I am.” 

Both fell silent for a moment. Neither one quite sure what to say. The sound of cars and people talking and sirens blaring, just barely broke through the strange oasis they found themselves in.

“You know what sucks about being a woman?” 

Rachel snorted at the question and shook her head. 

“The pink tax?”

“I mean obviously.” Donna said with a smile. “But also… The fact that people see emotions and think they make us weak. The fact that when I get angry I cry, and the minute that happens people stop listening to me because they just think I’m just being emotional.” Rachel had seen it happen before. Tears gathered in Donna’s eyes and an indignant look on her face as someone, usually a man, told her to calm down and that they’d discuss the issue later. 

“It’s stupid.”

“It is stupid.” Donna agreed. “But I can only fight so many battles, and so I’ve learned how to compartmentalize and show only what I want others to see. Because people can’t argue with me if I lead with facts and not emotion… Or well, they can but it’s harder that way.” Donna turned on the bench they were sitting on so she was facing Rachel head-on. “Don’t get mad when they try to make a choice for you. Your smart Rach, break down all the reasons your choice is better.”

It sounded like a lot of work, but Rachel could see the reason in it. Arguing had made so much of her life complicated. She wondered what it would be like to not even entertain it. To just be steadfast and stalwart and steady.

Lately, she had felt like an exposed wire.

She had made the choice to become Nightwing and she didn’t regret it yet, but every once in a while she wished things could be simpler.

“You know what I want Don?”

“If it’s Kori’s number, I’m working on it.” Rachel smiled at that and shook her head, looking out into the little park they found themselves in.

“Sometimes, all I want is a house on a lake somewhere no one can bother me. I want a studio where I can take up art or cooking, or you can do photography. I want a dog. I want a soft green duvet cover and I want a garden that I can’t kill. And I only want to be perceived when I tell people they can.”

Rachel thought about all the ways her life could turn out. Thought about a short story she had read years ago about a fig tree, where each piece of fruit was a different possibility, and the only danger in having a choice was not picking one at all.

She thought about how much easier it could all be, and for a moment she wanted that. Wanted softness and warmth and love and no responsibilities. Wanted to stop fighting, stop being a hero.

She’d never have it. She knew herself enough to know that she needed Nightwing more than she cared to admit.

But still, it was a nice thought.

She felt Donna lean into her side and allowed herself to relax back into her friend.

“I’m in, but only if we also have a farm with chickens.

“And goats.”

“And a fireplace.”

“I miss bonfires.”

“Right!” Donna exclaimed, “Fuck city ordinances, let me burn things in a controlled pit.” Rachel laughed, at the excitement in her friend's voice.

“I think you’re my soulmate Donna Troy.” She felt Donna’s arm go around her shoulder in a side hug.

“Too bad I’m woefully straight. Otherwise, we could live our dream of being new-aged Vermont Lesbian farmers.” If anyone could pull off denim overalls it would be Donna

“Platonic weddings are a thing. I’ve read about them.”

“Honestly I love that for us.”

This is what Rachel was missing. Her friend. Someone her age going through, if not the exact same thing, then something similar. For the next few hours they didn’t talk about Bludhaven or Desmond or Catalina, and Rachel felt like more of a human person than she had in a while.

***

Eventually, Rachel knew she had to go home.

But perhaps unwilling to relinquish Donna quite yet, she invited the woman back to Bludhaven with her for patrol. Something that Donna quickly agreed to after having been brought up to speed on the ongoing turmoil of Rachel’s life. Though unlike with her family, Donna helped as a steady presence at her side and not a stifling presence at her back.

The Bludhaven air was thick when they returned, already well into the night, and immediately Rachel could sense something wrong. 

The streets of Bludhaven were more alive than they had been for days and sounds of screaming came from various alleyways and streets, in tandem with the sound of gunshots.

It seemed the tension had broken and Desmond and Bolton’s man were back at war. Any peace that came from Desmond’s mother's death was gone. Bludhaven crime lords were similar to Gothams, in that there was a certain level of respect that came from being at the top, a hit planned during the boss’s Mother’s wake was seen as bad taste. But once the fighting started, the two cities differed in brutality.

The two women quickly got to work doing what they could. 

Having remembered one of her many promises, Rachel sent out a heads-up to Oracle to notify her of the situation and keep her on call. But denied any request for backup. Something Barbara pushed against before being reassured by Troia’s presence.

Gunfights were more of a nuisance than a threat, at least to Rachel. They could be taken down quickly and without much fuss, as usually the shooters were little more than hot-headed thugs. The danger came from their lack of awareness or care for who they hit. For hours the two women went from street to street incapacitating the henchmen while treating those they could for injuries.

Surprisingly the police were out that night. 

While one-off incidents were usually swept under the rug, not even Chief Redhorn could ignore this level of chaos. Occasionally she would cross paths with a cruiser or two but they ultimately let her be, on their way to more pressing issues than a vigilante.

It was exhausting work clearing out blocks one by one, slowly making their way across the city, but it also felt good in a way patrol seldom did these days. Most civilians were bunkered inside, and most of the men she was fighting hated the other side more than her. She could feel the progress they were making as the streets slowly grew quieter.

As Rachel passed the cross streets for 37th and Vine, she raised a hand to notify Oracle of another arrest pickup request. She had taken a break on the top of a Casino, facing what appeared to be a hybrid laundromat/bowling alley (which wild ). She was waiting for Troia to catch back up to her when she felt the air displace around her. In less than a second she launched herself out of the way as a large meaty hand grabbed at where she had been with a yell.

Before she could fully recover another hand grabbed at her shoulder, yanking her backward, hard. Forcing her into a backflip, to avoid landing on her ass.

“You can never mind your own fucking business can you?”

The voice was calmer than she had heard it in the hospital, but angrier than the last time she had faced Desmond as Nightwing. 

Blockbuster was panting heavily, as though breath was being pushed out of him in fury. His face was red and the suit he wore was wrinkled and untucked, leaving him looking distinctly ruffled. With an internal curse, Rachel spared a glance at the sign behind him, the words ‘Marcus Casino’ in red curved letters clued her in on the fact she was squarely in Desmond’s turf.

Forcing herself to relax she took an inconspicuous step back, trying to put a little more space between the two.

“I’d like to think of myself as ‘community-oriented’, got to stay informed in current affairs. You know, change starts at the local level-”

“AGHHH!”

Rachel ducked to the side as Desmond charged at her again, not even waiting for her to finish. 

He was surprisingly quick, as he pivoted with her turn and grabbing her shoulder threw her into the side wall, heavy hand pressing her back into the concrete.

“Hey, hey, hey, I thought we were going to have a nice conversation!” Rachel kicked into his knee and wiggled out of his grasp. Getting behind him, she kicked him into the wall face first, jumping out of the way as he turned with a growl. “Thought you were too good to trip up?”

“This ain’t tripping up, this is taking out the trash.” Dodging a left hook thrown her way, Rachel moved only to be surprised by a feign right. The calloused and large hand caught her right in the jaw and knocked her to the ground in surprise. She pulled herself up to her knees but before she could stand she felt a kick catch her side. She let out a wheeze of pain as it knocked into her ribs, rolling her over onto her back.

She looked up just in time to see the other foot aim for her face. She rolled out of the way as the heel of the foot stomped violently into the concrete where her head had been. Swinging her legs under her Nightwing used the leverage to trip Desmond, who went sprawling onto his back with a growl. Before she could properly get up she felt his hand grab her ankle and yank her down roughly so she was back on the ground.

Crawling on top of her, so he was sitting on her chest, Desmond swung down another fist. Causing Nightwing’s head to go cracking into the stone under her. Desmond raised his fist again but before he could bring it down a body came crashing into him, pulling him off Rachel.

For a second Rachel thought it was Troia, finally having caught back up to her. But it couldn’t be, because her friend was slowly helping her up as the sound of fighting continued next to them.

Looking over to the brawl she was surprised to see a familiar black cape and cowl barreling down on Blockbuster. Her brother savagely beating into the man's face, not allowing him a second to recover. Rachel went to move forward to help when Blockbuster got a foot against Damian's stomach and kicked him off. Sending Batman flying a few feet across the roof.

Desmond stood up, and while he still looked furious, he still apparently had enough sanity to recognize that he would not fare well in a fight against three. Turning his gaze on Rachel, she shivered as she took in the same level of hatred he had given her in the hospital.

“This is private property, your trespassing on my building, get the fuck outta here before I call the cops. And trust me, with the trouble you’ve been causing, I’m betting they’ll shoot on sight.” Nightwing saw Batman stand and go to attack at the threat, but she crossed over to him just in time to stop him.

“He’s right. We should get out of here.”

Desmond smiled bitterly at that, blood staining his teeth, dripping down his chin from a lucky punch.

“Look at that, the bitch ain’t just a pretty face, good to know your not dumb sweetheart. Just got a death wish.” At the insult, Damian went to attack again but Rachel held him back. With a pull, she and Troia moved Batman away. Blockbuster's eyes were on them the whole time as they grappled to the next roof and started putting space between them and his casino.

Eventually, Damian got the message and all three of them moved in silence until they were nearing her apartment. The repeated movement was doing nothing for the ribs Rachel was sure were at the very least bruised. Over her shoulder, she saw Troia shoot Batman a look, and with a nod the three of them slowed, stopping when they were in her neighborhood. 

“Are you alright?”

It was the first thing Damian said all night and she nodded slowly as he began running his fingers across her cheek which she was already sure was bruising. Her whole body was exhausted but she didn’t think anything was broken.

Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Damian didn’t seem to believe her, but didn’t refute her statement, instead he continued his quick examination. With distance from the fight, she felt confusion ease into her.

“What are you doing here?”

Damian didn’t flinch but he did freeze almost imperceptibly for a moment, before his fingertips prodded her side, eliciting a sharp breath from her.

“To help.” It was a non-answer and immediately Rachel felt a red flag go up. Damian only avoided things when he did something he knew he wasn’t supposed to.

“Why are you in Bludhaven? How did you find us?” There was a moment where she could tell Damian was deciding if he was going to lie to her or not, and she felt anger begin to boil within her. But after she caught Donna’s eye she took a deep breath and forced it down. “Don’t lie, you know I’ll be able to tell.”

He at the very least looked bashful at being caught, or as bashful as it was possible for Damian to be. Eventually, he moved his hands away from her, satisfied she wasn’t hiding a broken bone, he took a step back as though preparing for an explosion.

It did nothing to ease Rachel’s nerves.

“I’ve been tracking Blockbuster.” Rachel felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Donna put her face in her hand next to her.

“You’ve been what? ”

“I’ve been tracking Roland Desmond.”

“Since when?”

“...The explosion at Wayne Industries.” Rachel felt her brows knit together in confusion, not understanding the correlation at first, before realization hit.

“He planted the bomb?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t fucking tell me? ” Damian winced and falling back on old habits he seldom showed now, she could see him become defensive.

“You were clearly in the middle of a mental crisis when you visited Drake-”

                “Dude, shut up .” She heard Donna mutter beside her but didn’t acknowledge it.

“- And I was heading the investigation. It led me to Bludhaven and I decided it wasn’t pertinent to update you on the development before I had more information.”

A volley of emotion flooded into Rachel at the admission. First was the immediate guilt that came from knowing that the only reason Blockbuster would target WI was because of her, not Nightwing but Rachel Grayson. Second was the anger at the fact that despite their last conversation Damian still seemed determined to not trust her. Then came the sadness, sadness that it seemed every man who put on that damn cowl was doomed to become a disappointment.

Damian waited, perhaps ready to receive any one of those emotions and deal with them efficiently with an excuse at the ready. But it wasn’t until Rachel got her emotions under wrap, and the only thing that remained was exhaustion that she spoke.

“Get out.”

Damian flinched, though whether it was at the words or her somewhat defeated tone she didn’t know. Turning away from him she began moving towards her apartment building.

“Rachel, you don’t understand, I trust you-”

“- Just not enough to let me live my own life without your interference every second of the way ?” Again, not bitter, but resigned. “Just get out Damian, get out of my city.” She went to leave but was stopped by a gloved hand holding her wrist. For a moment neither said anything, until Damian spoke, voice pained

“I died too.” Rachel let out a heavy breath, the reminder knocking the air out of her.

“I know… So what do we do?” Damian let go of her arm, but Rachel didn’t move, waiting for any sort of insight she could get.

“I am the oldest. I think about you all the time, all of you.” He admitted softly, breath heavy with a sense of duty Rachel didn’t know. “I am the oldest and there is a… weight that comes with that, you can’t even imagine…. And I am happy to bear it. But that means I will do things that will make you hate me if it means keeping you safe.”

Rachel tried to imagine a world where she was taken in first. A world where Damian was her younger brother and his well-being was her responsibility. She knew without a doubt she would feel the same.

“I know.” Damian let out a noise of relief but she pushed forward. “The difference is Dami, I don’t think I could ever take your power away from you. I don’t think I could ever treat you like a doll instead of a person.” She turned to face him. “I get it, I do. But I’m tired and I can’t do this right now. I can’t be okay with this right now. So you need to leave.”

Facts, Donna said lead with facts.

“You should have told me about Desmond, not because I’m your sister or because you trust me. But because if your goal is really to keep me safe, then the worst thing you can do is me in the dark, where I’m running around blind.”

Damian opened his mouth as though to argue, but when he found that he couldn’t he shut it again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, and I love you. But I’m serious Damian, leave.” For a moment he didn’t, and Rachel tried to garner enough energy to make it through a fight. But was relieved when instead he gave her a short clipped nod and disappeared over the edge of the roof. Donna moved closer to her, letting Rachel lean into her body for support.

“How about a sleepover?”

Maybe it was because it was a question Rachel knew she had the power to say no to, but she felt tears begin to pool in her eyes, and blinking them away she gave Donna a little nod.

“Sounds good.”

Chapter Text

Tim hated Bludhaven.

The city was heavy. Everything from the people to the architecture felt stifled under an oppressive weight that seemed relentless. The buildings were narrow and short, leaving Tim feeling paranoid as he ran across its rooftops, staying in the shadows to avoid being seen from the ground up. Not that he had to worry about that, as the streets were dead, deader than Gothams during an Arkham breakout, which was saying something. The few people he saw quickly ducked in and out of doorways to prevent from being out in the open for too long. Even the less-than-savory characters perpetually seemed to be in a rush, looking over their shoulders at the smallest noise.

The same jumpiness was common in Gotham, but usually when criminals were nervous they looked up, scared that one of the Bats was about to bust their operation. Here it seemed that the biggest danger was on the street, following you around every corner, waiting to attack the moment your defenses were down. 

It was not fair to say that Bludhaven seemed eviler than Gotham. Despite all of Bruce’s theatrics Tim never bought into the personification of the inanimate. A city was a neutral thing, it was its people that colored it. A city was not cursed, it was not doomed for destruction or decay, it was simply a vessel, ready to take on the shape and mood of its inhabitants. 

But something about Bludhaven did feel hopeless. Every crime seemed laced with an edge of desperation as opposed to malice. Gotham had shown Tim just how awful humanity could be, with its sheer number of senseless murders and robberies fueled by greed. But it seemed like Bludhaven was the aftereffect of that cruelty. Every robbery came from need, every murder came from fear. 

Criminals in Gotham desired wealth, upward mobility, and growth. They were insatiable. But here it seemed like the criminals just wanted to be left alone. 

There was a resigned hopelessness to the proceedings which left Tim feeling depressed, and not for the first time he wondered why the hell Rachel had moved to Bludhaven to begin with.

His sister was the reason he now found himself in its folds. Crouching over the rooftop next to her apartment building, Tim’s gaze surveyed the entrances and exits watching to ensure no surprise guests made their way into her home.  

Despite her blinds being closed Tim knew Rachel was in and had been all night, not even leaving for a brief patrol which had been her MO for the last few days. Ever since Damian’s blunder, Rachel had been unreachable, but Oracle had been worried enough to give the others small tidbits of information about her routine. Flagging the Bats when Rachel was home and safe from the unrelenting gaze of Blockbuster.  

Thinking of the man made Tim shudder as he sharply checked up and down the street at the mere thought of the potential threat. Roland Desmond was the outlier in Bludhaven, his fury and desire were so hot it turned the city air heavy and oppressive. 

Knowing that Desmond had been behind the bombing at Wayne Industries had done little to endear him to Tim. But the fact that he was targeting Rachel for the unfortunate death of his Mother was infuriating. 

If Tim had his way Rachel would already be halfway to the fortress of solitude while the rest of them took care of the man for her. However, after learning their lesson during the entire Spyral debacle, and seeing her reaction to Damian's interference, Tim and his siblings had agreed to let Rachel handle the situation. And instead, they were perpetually on call in case she needed their help.

Today, however, Tim was unwilling to leave her alone.

Oracle and Stephanie had explained to him and Jason, in hushed and worried tones, that Rachel had submitted a police report. For what they wouldn’t tell him, which did nothing to ease his concern, but he knew she had postponed doing it for a couple of days. He also knew there was some sort of follow-up paperwork she needed to submit and hadn’t, something Rachel had apparently promised Oracle to handle that day.

Theoretically, Tim may or may not have been ordered by Barbara to stay out of it. But Tim could always blame his decision-making on his lingering concussion if it came down to it. Plus it was family dinner that night, and he had been sent on a very special mission by Alfred to ensure Rachel actually came to this one.

If Rachel was pissed about the unwanted bodyguard, fine, but Tim was hoping that the lingering guilt from the explosion, though unwarranted, would garner him some goodwill. It was dirty, but Tim had never been above gaming the system to get what he wanted.

The sun slowly rose from the east though it was obscured heavily by a deep and heavy fog. As it rose, Tim changed out of his Knight costume into his civilian clothes. Tucking his supplies away in one of the secret caches Rachel had set up when she first moved to the city. For a while Tim sat near the roof’s edge, watching for any sign that Rachel was leaving. It wasn’t until late afternoon, that he finally saw the interior door of his sister's building open. 

Rachel stood in the vestibule, pulling her hair up into a messy bun, looking as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Though Tim knew the apparent casualness was a guise to hide her surveillance of the street, to ensure no unwanted eyes were waiting for her.

He didn’t try to hide as her gaze roamed upwards, and as soon as their eyes met through the glass he gave her a small jaunty wave. He saw Rachel still for a moment before she let out a silent exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes in annoyance. She didn’t seem particularly happy to see him, but she didn’t seem all that mad either.

Tim would take it.

Making his way down the side of the building via a fire escape that was long past code, he stepped out into the street and hurried over to her building. Though he knew with certainty that no one was currently out there with them, it didn’t mean that there still weren’t eyes on the building. As soon as he made it onto the sidewalk Rachel stepped out and began walking towards where Tim assumed the police precinct was.

“Aren't you supposed to be on bed rest?”

“Nope.” He responded falling into step, hands casually stuffed in his pockets, even as his gaze continued to duck around. “Got the all clear from Leslie.”

“How’s your head?”

“I haven’t gotten any complaints so far.” He could see Rachel raise her eyebrows at that and he blanched in response. “Sorry. I’ve been spending too much time with Jason.”

“Kon not around to play nurse?”

“Off-world with Cassie, some diplomatic something. I stopped listening when I heard the words ‘Bilateral Negotiation’.” He loved the team, but as they had gotten older they started working with the JL more and more on these off-world planetary relationship-building missions, which were not his forte, it’s why he usually left business deals to Lucious. 

“Sounds thrilling.”

Tim waited for Rachel to say more, but when she didn’t the two fell into a silent walk. It was not altogether unpleasant, but odd considering Rachel’s usual pension for small talk. Risking another glance at her he took in her appearance. 

She had looked rough in the hospital, but today at the very least she seemed to clean herself up. Her still slightly damp hair was pulled off her face and she wore an old white button-down Tim knew came from one of their old school uniforms as well as a pair of jeans that only had some slight fraying at the cuffs. Her father’s leather jacket hung off her shoulder, fitted around the muscles that differentiated Rachel from her parents in form. Tim could remember Rachel's father distantly, having met him briefly the night the Graysons fell. At 5’9” Tim knew Rachel was taller than her Father had been, hell, she was an inch taller than Tim which was still irritating. But despite the muscle gained at Spyral his sister was still lithe. 

Still, Tim could see the bags under her eyes and the heaviness in her shoulders that seemed to weigh down on her more and more the longer she stayed in the city. He could also see a slight tremble in Rachel's hands before she shoved them in her pocket, it wasn’t cold enough to cause a shiver, and Tim wondered when the last time she had eaten was.

“What?”

Darting his eyes up he caught Rachel staring at him, unimpressed by his scrutiny. Shaking his head he turned to look away, and instead glanced up and down the still-empty street. 

“Nothing.”

“If you have something to say-”

“-I don’t” He heard Rachel let out a huff of annoyance at the interruption.

“What did Barbara tell you?”

“Nothing.”

“Mmm-hmm.” It was clear she didn’t believe him, which he supposed was fair.

“She said you had to go to the police department.”

“Did she say why?”

“No.” That at least was honest. “But my schedule was open so I thought I could play unofficial bodyguard. Not that you need one.” He added quickly, already seeing her mouth open to argue. “But I thought you might like some company… Plus Alfred said he would cut off my nespresso access if I didn’t get you to come to family dinner.”

“Ahh and so the truth comes out.” Tim relaxed when she sounded more amused than annoyed. “Though you may be in for some disappointment Timbo, I can’t leave Blud right now.”

“Yes, you can, all you need to do is take I-72 to Bristol.”

“I know how to get home-”

“-Could have fooled me-”

“-I just can’t. I’ve got too much on my plate.”

“Now unless I’m wrong, and I’m not, I believe a promise was made to a certain demon spawn that you would start coming to family dinners again.” This was the wrong thing to say, as any levity that had been present evaporated.

“Yeah, well Damian went back on his word too, so I guess we’re even.”

It wasn’t the first time Tim had disagreed with his older brother, but it was perhaps one of the first times he could understand where Damian had been coming from. 

“What’s going on with you two?” 

Rachel let out another sigh, as though she had been asked this a hundred times before.

“He doesn’t trust me.” A sharp short laugh burst out of Tim before he could stop it, and he felt himself blush as Rachel gave him an unimpressed stare.

“Sorry, it’s just, thats kind of stupid. You’re probably the only person he does trust.” Which, okay, while maybe that was no longer quite true, it was no secret that Rachel had been and would always be Damian’s favorite.

“Well then if his trust could be a little less suffocating that would be great.”

“He’s scared.”

“So I’ve heard. Doesn’t give him an excuse to be a dick.”

“He’s always been a dick .” Rachel opened her mouth to respond though she couldn’t refute that. Instead, she pursed her lips and seemed to struggle internally with how much she wanted to say. Tim let her work through her mind, gaze casually looking around, stopping briefly to track the gait of a woman who was passing them on the other side of the street on her way home. 

“He’s B.”

Tim furrowed his brow, not quite understanding her meaning.

“He’s Bruce?”

“No.” Rachel shook her head, before taking a step closer to Tim, their sides brushing one another as they walked. “He’s B .” 

Oh.

He’s Batman .

Tim felt himself soften at the reminder of the baggage that now followed that title.

“It’s not the first time he’s been B .”

“I know.”

“... But it is the first time since everything went down?” 

Rachel nodded, looking embarrassed at the admission.

“It’s like, when he’s dressed up I don’t hear Damian anymore, I just hear Bruce. And I know they’re different, but it’s hard to separate it in my brain.”

“Probably some sort of trauma response.”

“Yeah, probably.” The response was bitter and Tim gave her a questioning look at it. “I guess I just thought I was over it.”

“It’s only been a couple months Rach.”

“Is that all?” She joked, but he could hear the genuine question under it. He understood what she meant, so much had happened in such a small amount of time. It was a lot to process. 

They turned down another street and Tim could see the precinct a couple of blocks down. The foot traffic was heavier here, but not by a lot. Still Tim felt himself draw closer to Rachel just in case. 

“I’m so tired Timmy.” The admission was soft, and bred from an exhaustion Tim knew well. Gently he lifted his arm and pulled her into his side.

“Yeah, everything kind of sucks right now doesn’t it?” Rachel snorted.

“That pretty much sums it up.”

“...But, sometimes things suck and then eventually they don’t anymore you know? Sometimes things suck, and then you make it through them anyway. Even if you feel like you need to make it through them alone.” He stopped in front of the police station's doors, making Rachel pause with him. “I get feeling like you have to fix things yourself, I also get wanting to prove that you can, so I’m not going to tell you not to do it.”

“Let me guess, you just want me to call you if I need help?"

“No. Er… Well, I mean yes of course, please call me if you need me. But that's not what I was going to say.”

“What were you going to say?”

“That I believe if anyone is capable of taking on all the bullshit you’ve had to put up with and coming out on the other side relatively unscathed… it’s you. You may be my little sister, but I look up to you Rach.” Tim felt his cheeks darken in embarrassment at the show of emotion, but he forced himself to go on. “I’ve always looked up to you. And it’s not because of your skill or talent, though those things are admirable. It’s because, despite everything, you are still able to find the good in things too dark for others to find any hope in. So… So just don’t forget to keep looking for the good, even in yourself.”  

Rachel shifted under his gaze, but she smiled softly in surprise at his words, as though not expecting them.

“I’ll try my best.”

Tim smiled back at her.

“Good… And also if you don’t come to this family dinner and cost me my caffeine I’m going to break into your apartment and cut your hair into a mullet while you sleep.”

Rachel laughed loudly at that and turned to finally enter the building, holding the door open behind her with a smile.

“Noted.”

The Bludhaven police department looked exactly how Tim imagined it would; depressing laminated flooring lined the ground and glaring fluorescent lights hung from above. Gotham was a bit of an outlier, as the wealth and age of the city seeped into every municipal building older than 1960. The police precinct he had visited the most often downtown had a large open floor concept, with raised sections for desks lit by old green accounting lamps. Marble tile floors lined the entire space, showcasing a gothic mosaic in faded greys, whites, and blacks. Tim knew realistically they most likely had overhead lighting, and perhaps it was simply because he most often visited the building during the night shift, but he had never encountered it before. The ultra illumination in Bludhaven felt disconcerting. 

There was nowhere to hide.

Rachel bypassed the entry desk, where a stoic yet engaged secretary was speaking to a frazzled mother holding her crying toddler in her arms. Instead she walked towards a staircase on the left-hand side leading to the second floor. As they walked up Tim clocked each officer they passed who seemed to double-take as soon as they noticed Rachel, all of them recognizing her. 

Some looked at her like a dead man walking, pity etching their faces as they looked quickly around, and then ducked out of the way. An alarming number of them looked at her like she was their meal ticket, and it was clear that they were the members of the force in Desmond's pocket. Hands drifting to their holsters as though they were doing an internal calculation on if they thought they could get away with shooting her in broad daylight in the police station.

None were brazen enough to try anything. But Tim was glad he had joined her regardless, as a few who did seem to get a little too close, took a step back when they noticed a glaring Tim Drake-Wayne trailing behind her.

They walked halfway down a nearly empty side hallway until finally, Rachel stopped at a door with a brass plate reading ‘Rohrbach and Garcia’ on it. Tim didn’t know who Garcia was, but he knew that Amy Rohrbach had been the officer Rachel had worked with as Nightwing. He shot her a curious glance which she ignored in favor of knocking on the worn wood.

Sounds of shuffling came from the other side and after a moment it opened revealing a woman in her late 50s with dark blonde hair and a severe look on her face which softened slightly at the sight of Rachel.

Well, at least there’s one police officer in this precinct who doesn’t want to kill Rachel .

The woman turned to speak over her shoulder at the other person in the room. 

“Rohrbach, she’s here.” Before waiting for an answer the woman reached toward a coat stand on the side of the door and pulled on a light jacket, shimmying her way past the two of them. “You can go in… Good luck.” 

Yeah, that’s not foreboding . 

Rachel for her part smiled at the women and took a step inside.

“Thanks, Officer Garcia.”

The office, despite its tight squeeze offered a reprieve from the hallway. The room was aglow by two table lamps sitting on the desks pushed against the walls and there was no window into the room, allowing Tim a momentary feeling of safety as he shut the door behind him, and situated himself in front of it. Though he doubted anyone would try to get in. 

At one of the desks, a black woman stood up to greet them. She was younger than Officer Garcia by at least a decade, her skin looked waxen from being stuck inside a windowless room, and her dark braided hair, which had been pulled back into a ponytail, had loose pieces trailing over her shoulders. She looked like someone Tim would not want to mess with, but when the woman looked at Rachel it was clear she cared deeply for his sister.

“Grayson, I’m glad to see you.”

“You too Officer Rohrbach.” The officer gave her a look, causing Rachel to smile. ”Amy.” She amended.

Amy turned to scan Tim, somewhat weary of his appearance, but not completely bothered by it.

“A friend?”

“A brother, actually.” Rohrbach seemed surprised by that and she relaxed slightly at the information. No longer considering him a potential threat she sat back down in her seat and gestured for Rachel to take the one across from her. Tim remained in his spot, and Rohrbach gave him another glance.

“He knows about everything?”

“...Some of it.” Amy gave Rachel an unimpressed look and Tim felt himself growing more fond of the officer. Rachel for her part, looked slightly chagrined. “He knows about Desmond, my whole family does.” Amy nodded, pleased. 

“Good… And Catalina?” The name sounded slightly familiar though he wasn’t sure why, maybe he had heard Jason or Steph mention it? Rachel shot him a guilty look which did nothing to soothe his nerves. Amy understood the look immediately and her gaze softened into something protective. “Do you want him to step out?”

Tim felt his chest squeeze anxiously at the thought but said nothing, he would if Rachel wanted him to. But he didn’t like the idea of her keeping something serious from him.

“No, he can stay.”

Thank god.

Amy let out a heavy breath, and nodded, as she reached over to her desk to grab something.

“Well, the good news is there wasn’t any issue with processing. Flores was served and was a goddamn nightmare about it, but she hasn’t tried anything yet. The bad news is your hearing date.”

Hearing? Was Rachel in trouble?

“I thought it would be two weeks after the TRO was submitted?”

The wheels in Tim’s brain translated the abbreviation with a start, and he took a sharp breath in surprise which both women ignored. Though he could tell that Rachel heard him by how tense her shoulders got.

Rachel submitted a restraining order?

“Normally it would, but with everything with Desmond…”

“No one wants to risk having me in their courtroom.” Rachel finished solemnly, Amy nodded.

“And the judges who aren’t afraid of him work for him, so you can imagine why we wouldn’t want to appear in front of them.”

“So what happens if we can’t get in front of a judge?”

“Theoretically the TRO will expire, though it can be extended again.”

“And can anything prevent that extension from happening?” Interrupted Tim, fueled by the new information that his sister was apparently being stalked. On top of everything else, she was already dealing with.

“Lots of things.” Responded Amy, without turning to look at him. “You got lucky submitting this one, no one was paying attention. But I wouldn’t be surprised if some higher-up declines your request, if only because Desmond says so.” Rachel let out a heavy breath, looking particularly miserable at the news.

“So, I’m fucked.”

It was more brash than his sister normally was, but the feeling of hopelessness was seeping from all of them. Tim longed to ask a barrage of questions.

Whose Catalina, what happened, what did she do, are you okay, did she hurt you? 

But he kept them to himself for the time being. 

Amy, after hesitating for a moment scooched forward in her chair and gently grabbed Rachel's hands.

“You got two weeks. A lot can happen in two weeks. I’ll keep trying, we’ll apply for an extension. I’ve kept an eye on Flores myself. I submitted a complaint of behavior to her superiors, I haven’t received a response yet, but there may be some repercussions on that front. Don’t count your losses just yet kid.” Rachel gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks, Amy.” Amy returned the smile but then looked down at their hands, seeming as though she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should. 

“I know you might not want to hear it Grayson, but getting out of town for a little while may still be your best option.” Rachel let out a sigh but didn’t immediately dismiss the suggestion like she normally would have. Sensing the uncertainty Amy jumped on it. “Just for a night at least. You look like shit Grayson, get some rest where you're not waking up paranoid every half an hour.”

“We do have that family dinner…” Tim supplied, ignoring Rachel’s annoyed glance. Amy nodded encouragingly.

“A family dinner could be nice.” 

It was clear Rachel was close to being swayed when a loud pounding struck against the door, vibrating against Tim’s back. Before any of them could respond the door opened and instinctually Tim turned to close it again.

“Officer Rohrbach! We need to talk!”

The voice was unfamiliar, but he saw both Amy and Rachel tense up at the sound and he guessed who it belonged to. As both got up to their feet Amy subtly stepped in front of Rachel so she was behind her. 

“I am busy Agent Flores. We can talk later.” Tim's suspicion was confirmed, and he tightened his hold on the handle which Catalina was still trying to turn.

“I’m not taking no as an answer Rohrbach.”

“Big surprise” Amy muttered under her breath, and Tim felt another rush of fondness towards the officer.

“It’s alright Amy, I can talk to her-”

“-NO.” Interrupted both Tim and Rohrbach, each shooting Rachel an unimpressed look at the suggestion.

“Not including the fact that this is my office and I won’t be bullied Grayson, you have a TRO out against Flores for the exact purpose of not having to speak to her.” The pounding on the other side stilled as though listening in on them, and Tim felt his stomach drop as the agent softened her voice.

“Mi Amor, you’re being childish, you can speak to me. You do not need Officer Rohrbach to act as your keeper.” The words caused an affronted look to cross on Rachel's face.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You’re just confused, you don’t understand that I just want to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Do you want to end up like Renee?” Came Catalina’s sharp retort, causing Rachel to flinch at the brash words. The name also sounded familiar to Tim, but he couldn’t place it. I really need to start taking footnotes. “Dead and alone because she was too foolish to ask for help.”

“You don’t know what the hell you're talking about Catalina.” Bit back Rachel, looking angrier than Tim had seen her in a while. “And even if I needed someone to protect me -” She spat out the words “-you certainly would not be on that list.”

Catalina paused, letting out a belabored sigh as though Rachel was being unreasonable. It made Tim irritated on his sister's behalf. 

“Is this about the kiss Queride?” Tim stilled, as blood rushed to his ears at the question. “I can’t help the things you do to me. You make it hard to keep my hands to myself.”

Swinging the door open Tim grabbed the unexpecting Catalina and pushed her into the wall, anger flowing through his body at the words. Catalina for her part looked surprised at the movement, before it quickly turned into rage and she tried to step forward but was unable to as Tim pushed her back again. 

“Tim-”

“Touch my sister again, and I’ll destroy you so thoroughly you’re going to wish that you were dead.”

“Tim-”

“Who the hell are you?” Catalina spat out, looking affronted.

“Someone not to be taken lightly.” Tim threatened, infusing his tone with every ounce of intimidation he had learned when he realized his size would not work to his advantage like Jason's or Bruce's did. Letting go he turned to look at the other two women, Rachel was staring at him with embarrassment though Tim knew it wasn’t directed at him, and Rohrbach just looked pleased with the fact someone had put Catalina in her place. “Let’s go, Rachel.” He waited for Rachel to move in front of him before following her out of the hallway. Just barely catching the beginning of an argument between the two officers as they went down the stairs.

“You shouldn’t have done that Tim.” Yes, I should have.

“I don’t want to fight about it.” 

Perhaps it was the exhaustion in his voice that did it, but Rachel didn’t respond to which Tim was grateful. As his mind was swimming with the times people hadn’t taken ‘no’ as an answer from him, and the fury that came from knowing the same thing had happened to Rachel.

“Please don’t mention that to anyone else.” 

Looking down Tim could see that Rachel’s face was still pink with embarrassment and immediately he understood how she felt. No one would ever blame her for what Catalina had done - and Tim prayed it had just been the kiss - but there was a shame that came from people learning that you had been vulnerable to a twisted sort of intimacy completely out of your control. Fear that people would think you encouraged it or enjoyed it, fear that people would think of you differently or as weak.

Tim knew his family would not think this way. Knew that half of them already knew, or at least suspected, what was going on with Rachel. He also knew that it would do nothing but make Rachel feel worse if he shared what happened. 

“I won’t,” Tim promised, infusing as much understanding as he could into his words. Rachel relaxed slightly and gave him a sad small smile.

“Thank You.”

***

It wasn’t that Rachel was dreading the family dinner when Tim brought it up.

It’s just that the thought of being surrounded by people who would spend the entire time trying to pry every last drop of information from her without giving her a second a reprieve sounded absolutely unbearable.

However, she had been planning on going even before the nightmare that was ‘Catalina Flores’ had caused a strange understanding to settle between her and Tim. 

Rachel shouldn’t have been surprised, the two had always gotten along well, Spyral being the one outlier. Tim was charming and lacked the natural surety and confidence that her other siblings wielded without thought. It made him more introspective, and more kind. They both also tended to absolutely isolate themselves when working on a case, though in reality that was a habit they all shared. 

Maybe it was genetic. Her family had all swapped blood enough that some lingering DNA probably tied them together.

Regardless, she had been planning on going to the dinner. In part to shut her family up and hopefully prevent more people from stumbling around Bludhaven. In part because it had been too long since she had spoken to Alfred and she felt guilty about it. And, in part, because Cass was finally coming home after whatever she had been doing in Hong Kong, and Rachel had missed her sister.

She could handle a few awkward hours of invasive questions and piercing gazes. And Amy had been right, she could use a night of full sleep without panic keeping her gaze fixated on her window, waiting for something or someone to come through it.

Despite the moniker of ‘Family Dinner’ it was rare that all of them were actually there together, though usually at least five or six of them would rotate in and out depending on prior commitments. Tonight though, either because Cass was home or Rachel was coming, it was a full house. As soon as she and Tim stepped foot into the manor she was met with an onslaught of forced causal questions from her siblings. Everyone was edging around what they all most likely already knew.

(She was 90% positive there was a secret group chat dedicated to talking about her where they pieced together the tidbits of information they had all individually collected). 

Cass hadn’t arrived home yet with Alfred from the airport, so she left Tim, Jason, and Steph and made her way to the study. Pointedly ignoring Damian's penetrating gaze as she passed by him in the living room.

Away from the foyer the manor was quiet, the thrum of the still relatively new central heating was the only sound that resonated throughout the halls along with her muffled footsteps. There had once been a time when the manor had stopped feeling like home, but with Bruce’s retirement, it had turned back into the refuge it had been to her as a child. Before Jason died and Bruce became mean.

The study door was ajar and she could hear a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young album playing quietly inside the room. The record player, which had been all but abandoned in years past, had been brushed off recently, and with its rediscovery came Bruce’s extensive record collection. The song ‘Our House’ played reminding Rachel of her childhood. She had whispered to Bruce, early on in her tenure at the manor, that her Father had used to play the song and dance with her and her mother around the trailer they all shared. Bruce had purchased the album the next day, the music so different from the rest he usually played, and had let her stand on his feet as they waltzed around the study.  

She hadn’t heard the song in a while.

Pushing open the door she saw Bruce sitting in his armchair near the window, book in hand as he stared outside, lost in thought. He did that a lot these days, quietly mused, but it was so different from his previous disgruntled brooding that none of them minded. He looked up as she entered and smiled softly at her.

She could see his eyes quickly scan her over, taking in her face and clothes and formulating an opinion on what he saw, years of detective work unable to suppress the instinct to do so. But she also saw the moment he caught himself and forced himself to stop.

“Hey, Bruce.”

“Hello, Rachel.

“Giant penny for your thoughts?” Bruce smirked and stood up, stretching in a way that was reminiscent of Alfred the cat after he got up from a sun patch.

“Cassandra will be back with Alfred soon.” Rachel nodded understanding what he left unsaid. Bruce likes when they’re all together . 

The changes in the man from just a few months ago felt like whiplash, but Rachel wondered if Batman had never really been who Bruce was, despite all the posturing. Which probably had made it easier for him to shirk the weight of the cowl when he finally decided to. She didn’t think she could do that. Every facet of her being seemed impossibly tangled into one another. 

She didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“Giant penny for your thoughts?”

She looked up to see Bruce watching her as she became lost in her thoughts. She gave herself a small shake.

“Oh you know, just living the dream.” She responded, shooting a finger gun at Bruce, causing him to roll his eyes as he got up from his seat. Everyone knew the phrase ‘living the dream’ was akin to going out onto a rooftop and screaming at the top of your lungs for help.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, I think everything is slightly above your pay grade.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at that and switched the music off, leaving Rachel feeling a little sad.

“Is this a Rachel thing or a Nightwing thing?” Rachel gave him a bitter smile.

“Yep.”

Bruce let out a noise of understanding and crossed over to her to give her a tight hug, which she let herself sink into. Over her shoulder, she could see a car coming up the drive from the window and she knew that soon this quiet sort of peace would soon be broken.

“Get some food, get some rest, maybe tomorrow everything won’t seem so hard.” It sounded like a mantra, and Rachel wondered if it was something he had picked up in therapy. He pulled away and gently pushed her out of the room. “Let’s go before the wolves descend on Alfred’s cooking.”

They reached the main hall just as Cass came into it, her eyes lighting up immediately upon seeing them, before dimming slightly when she took another glance at Rachel.

“The favorite daughter returns!” Rachel announced lightly, hoping to sway some of her sister's concerns before the others sunk their teeth into her. “Now B can stop monologuing out the window like a civil war wife, wondering when her husband will return home from the war.” Cassandra rolled her eyes and lifted her hands to sign.

“Dad doesn’t monologue.”

“Yeah he does, we just don’t pay attention because it’s only in huffs and grunts.”

“Kinky.” Came Jason’s voice as he entered the hall, picking Cass up in a tight hug as Rachel scrunched her nose in disgust. “Hey, Cassie! How was your super secret spy mission?” Cass shot Rachel a glare, no doubt thinking she had told Jason to say that, but Rachel held up her hands in defense.

“Don’t blame that on me. He came up with that all by himself. Besides I’m not completely convinced you weren’t on a spy mission.”

“Not a spy mission. ” Cass signed with fondness “Just a mission .”

“One that we get to hear about?” Asked Steph, running into the room for her own hug, “You left me all alone with the stupid stinky boys, I think I deserve the tea.”

“Rachel was here .”

“Rachel was being lame in Bludhaven, she doesn’t count.”

“Thanks, Steph.” 

Over Cass’s shoulder, Stephanie blew her a kiss causing her to laugh.

“If we’re all quite down congregating in the hall,” came Alfred's dry tone, though the small smile on his face betrayed his joy, “I believe there is dinner waiting for all of you.”

“Fucking finally, thanks, Alf.”

“Perhaps you can find a way to show your gratitude Master Jason without resorting to profanity.”

“I think you’d have more luck teaching a goldfish to play fetch Alfred.”

“Stuff it, Timbo.”

Rachel watched her siblings shuffle into the dining room with a small smile, feeling more content than she had in a while. She had forgotten how nice this could be, especially when they weren’t all fighting. Even the sight of Damian sheepishly slinking into the room, throwing a cautious glance her way, couldn’t deter the rare peace.

Throughout the meal, secretive glances were still cast her way, but it appeared that an attempt was being made to pretend that everything was fine. Rachel wondered if Tim warned them all to give her a break, or perhaps they were simultaneously showing a tact rare for their family. Regardless, Rachel appreciated the effort.

The whole evening left Rachel feeling satisfied, and for a moment she could remember the version of her where joy came naturally. Where every day wasn’t a fight, and the edges of her vision weren't seeped in the colors of rage and resignation. 

One by one they left the table. Jason to help Alfred clean, having been the first of them to offer (Alfred would only concede to one helper per meal). Tim with Steph to discuss something, she had a feeling it had to do with her thanks to the glances they sent her way, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Then Bruce and Cass escaped to look at something that Bruce had pulled aside to show her. Until finally it was just her and Damian alone, sitting at opposite sides of the dining room table, each avoiding the other's gaze.

Eventually, Rachel looked at her brother and observed him. Taking in the tension of his brow and pursing of his lips.

Damian’s form of disheveled was looking as uptight as possible. A habit instilled in him by Talia no doubt. When he was comfortable he relaxed into his version of casualness. But when he was uncertain or scared he remained stock still, spine straight, and face as neutral as possible, like a robot.

It didn’t suit him. And Rachel was tired of them misunderstanding one another.

“Dami.” The soft nickname caused Damian to look up sharply, surprised that she was the one starting the conversation. “I know you’re different from Bruce.” She said the name softly, not wanting the man to overhear them, especially when she was referring to the version of Bruce he was before Spyral. 

“What?”

“I know that your Batman is different from Bruce.”

“Alright?"

 “... When I was your Robin, the cape and cowl didn’t frighten me as much as it does now… You didn’t change, I did.” Understanding colored his face as he took in her words.

“And I scare you? When I’m dressed as him?” The thought seemed to pain Damian, but that hadn’t been her intention. 

“I superimpose his voice on your words and suddenly I’m listening to a ghost and not to you.” She explained, keying into something she had only begun to realize. “I understand why you’ve done what you have, and I’m not going to convince you to change because I don’t want you to… But I meant what I said on the roof. You want to keep me safe, you got to keep me informed.”

Damian took in her words slowly, ruminating on them as he realized what she had already known. Batman and Nightwing could and would always be allies, but they could never be partners.

“I can do that.” He responded softly, looking young in a way Rachel had never seen him before. “I will do that Grayson, I’m sorry that I haven’t up until this point.”

“I don’t begrudge you wanting to take care of me… And, I’ll work on not seeing Bruce’s shadow behind you.” Damian smiled at that.

“I will attempt to do the same.” Slowly he moved from his seat and took the empty one next to her, without hesitating she pulled him into a tight hug which he sunk into without any arguments. “I had worried you would be angrier.”

“I was told recently that kindness is a choice.” Rachel huffed out thinking back on both Tim and Midnighter’s words. “I haven’t been choosing it very often lately.”

Before Damian could respond to that Tim and Stephanie came barreling back into the room, any and all of the calm Rachel was feeling disappeared as soon as she took in their faces. Damian too became alert, standing up from his seat as he crossed the table to meet them.

“What happened?”

“It’s Haley’s Circus,” Tim said, turning to Rachel with a grimness that caused her stomach to drop, “There was some sort of explosion or fire or something. I’m not sure yet. Rachel… The whole place burned.” The first thing Rachel felt was horror, as her brain charred memories of warm tapestry and open tents. Leaving her with the image of nothing but ash.

"Is anyone hurt?"

"We don't know yet, we just got the alert from O." A sickening realization settled into her chest, pressing down, making it hard to breath.

“It was Blockbuster.” She mumbled to herself, knowing as soon as she said it that it was true.

“We do not know that yet.” Responded Damian, looking at her in concern. “A number of things could have occurred.”

“But an explosion?” Rachel pressed, getting up from her seat. “Days after what happened with Tim? It was Blockbuster Damian, who else could it have been?

“Drake said an explosion or a fire, we do not know yet what happened.”

“Then I’m going to go figure it out.” She challenged making a beeline out of the dining room.

“You can’t go to Haley’s.” Came Tim’s voice as they followed her out into the main hall.

“Why not? You all wanted me out of Bludhaven, now you get your wish.”

“If it is Desmond.” Damian interrupted, pulling her jacket out of her hand just as she grabbed it from the coat rack. “He will be expecting you to go. It could be a trap.” 

“He’d be expecting Rachel Grayson, not Nightwing.”

“But won’t it look odd if Nightwing shows up thousands of miles away from Bludhaven to investigate a circus fire she should have no connection to?” Pressed Stephanie, wedging herself in front of the doorway.

“I don’t particularly care how it will look.”

“Well, you should!” Exclaimed Tim, looking panicked. “Rachel, I know you want to figure this out, but you need to think for a second.”

“No, I need to go to Haley’s!”

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned collectively to face Jason who was coming out of the kitchen, no doubt drawn by their raised voices.

“I’m going to Haley’s,” Rachel responded, grabbing her jacket from Damian as he was distracted and inching around Stephanie to get out the door.

“No, Jesus Rachel, stop, you’re not!” Argued Steph, getting irritated, “I mean for fuck’s sake, you’re still dealing with your TRO. What if they set the hearing and you’re not in the country to make it? What if Blockbuster isn’t behind this and does something to Bludhaven while you’re gone? What then?”

The whole room froze at the words, and Rachel could see the exact moment Stephanie's mouth caught up to her brain, as she slapped her hands over it and looked at Rachel in a panic.

“Thanks, Stephanie.”

“Shit, I’m sorry Rachel.”

“You have a restraining order out on someone?” Cut in Jason, sounding strained as though he couldn’t figure out if he was angry or worried.

“It’s not a big deal.” Both Tim and Stephanie went to open their mouths, but both closed them once Rachel glared at them. Damian caught the look.

“You both knew about this?”

“...Only since today.”

“I plead the fifth.”

Damian let out of huff of annoyance and in a distinctly Bruce move he pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself.

“It does not matter.” Blinking open his eyes he met Rachel's gaze apologetically. “What matters is that Stephanie is right, you cannot be the one to investigate this, for a myriad of reasons.”

“Dami-”

“I’ll go.” Interrupted Jason, taking a step closer to the group, “I’ll take Blondie. We’ll figure out what happened and report back.” Stephanie nodded, pleased at the suggestion. Tim stepped forward as well, determined.

“I’ll go too.”

“Absolutely not.” Damian glared at him. “You may have gotten the all-clear from Thompkins, but we both know you should still be on bed rest… Red Hood and Spoiler will go.” It was a decent compromise but Rachel didn’t like it, but sensing that she had little room to negotiate with she nodded her assent.

“Fine, but I want daily updates. Hourly.”

“We can do that.” Agreed Stephanie, already moving towards the cave to prepare for the trip, giving Rachel’s shoulder a tight squeeze as she passed her. Jason didn’t move right away, gaze still locked on Rachel.

“Don’t think we’re done talking about the restraining order.”

“I second that.” Muttered Damian, looking slightly deflated now that Rachel was no longer a flight risk. Before she could respond Jason moved forward to pull her into a tight hug.

“A Drug Lord and a stalker, geez Goldie, some people have all the luck huh?” He pulled away and searched her face, looking for something but Rachel didn’t know what. “Don’t be stupid Wing. Okay? You can be anything else… Just don’t be stupid.” Rachel didn’t know how to answer that, so she just gave him a tight nod which seemed to be enough. After a moment Jason pulled away and followed after Steph.

The remaining three of them stayed in the hall, each one unsure of what to do next.

“I should catch up B and Cass,” Tim said to no one, moving up to the second floor where the two had disappeared.

“... I need to get back to Bludhaven,” Rachel said quietly, causing Damian to let out a heavy sigh.

“I know.”

Putting on her jacket she picked up her keys and the duffle bag she had left in the entryway from early. Achingly Rachel thought about how much she now wanted to stay the night but simply couldn’t. She would need to helm her own investigation in Bludhaven, and even if Desmond wasn’t at fault, she still needed to work to bring him down.

“Rachel.” Looking up she saw Damian watching her, “This restraining order… Did the individual… Were you hurt?” 

“I…Don’t know how to answer that.”

It was clearly not the answer he wanted, but Rachel knew he appreciated her honesty.

“Just…Be safe.”

“Always.”