AN: This was a request over on Tumblr. It didn't go how I thought it would when I started to write, but I'm happy with it. This is a one shot.

Barbara ran a shaking hand through her hair as she watched the monitors around her. Not for the first time that night, she felt absolutely exhausted. She wanted more than anything to call it a night and finally – finally- get somewhere around six hours of sleep. But she was too smart to think that would actually happen. The Red Claw had been popping up in Gotham again, and while her friends were out on the streets risking their necks, they needed her to be awake and alert at the keys.

Reaching for her coffee, she refocused herself on the screens. More than half of them had a constant flow of information and texts coming in, her programs searching them for key words and phrases. Barbara didn't have nearly enough time to read all of them herself. Several of the screens, however, were a constant distraction for her – they were real time images being played back to her from the hundreds of surveillance feeds she had embedded in the city.

On one screen she could see Tigress and Zatanna stealthily moving through the shipping district. On another she could see Batman and Robin – the newest boy to wear the mask Damian – confronting one group of armed Red Claw militants. They seemed to be holding their own fairly well, and it was unlikely Bruce was going to be calling for backup, so she willed herself over to the next screen. What she saw made her blood run cold. Nightwing, his escrima sticks in hand was facing off against the terrorist leader herself, along with twenty other armed men. He was sickeningly outnumbered. Barbara swore as she watched, frozen in place. He should have called for backup by now. He should have called through to her way before being surrounded like this – and she would have been more than happy to redirect others to help him. Without too much thought, she flipped a switch that would patch her though to him directly.

"Nightwing," she hissed into his ear. The cocky smile that over took his face on screen let her know he'd heard her. "I'm sending backup, you moron." She watched him twirl one of the sticks nonchalantly as the leader started towards him. Her minions were staying back for now at least.

"No need," he replied finally, ducking and dodging with a ridiculous amount of grace. "I got what I need. I'll be out – uhg…" His words were cut off with a groan as her fists made contact. Barbara bit her lip, staying silent as he took several hits before regaining his composure – and his distance. She watched, her breath held, as he dropped a smoke bomb, and took off running, only to fling himself from the roof of the building before the terrorists knew he was moving.

Barbara let go the breath she had been holding and swerved her chair around to focus in on her other screens. She calmed herself by pouring over the raw data, trying desperately to dislodge the image of Dick flinging himself off the roof from her consciousness.

An hour later, the sound of tapping at her window draws her out of her task. The intruder didn't even wait for her invitation before climbing through the unlocked window frame.

"I'm not happy with you," she calls without even turning around.

"How do you know? I could be Bruce break in." She turns around to him finally, watching Dick as he slowly pulls the mask from his face. He can't even cover the wince.

"Bruce doesn't break in," she tells him simply, already pointing him towards the couch as she grabs her Alfred Approved first aid kit.

Dick crashes down onto the couch with a heavy sigh, his head leaning back over the edge as Barbara's practiced hands move to unlatch the armor. She's careful, not knowing what could be damaged underneath it.

"You're an idiot," she tells him.

"Mmmm."

"I'm serious," Barbara responds, her fingers trailing over a piece of glass that had wedged itself in between Kevlar plates and into the muscles of his abdomen. She pulled on a pair of gloves and grab tweezers before sliding it out. "How the hell did you not notice this?"

Dick lifted his head for about a minute before dropping it back down, uninterested. "I donno… adrenaline kick?" He moved slowly, stripping off the top half of his uniform so she could get a better look at the newest bruises and cuts that decorated his body.

Barbara ran her fingers slowly over the bruises on his ribs, making his wince slightly.

"Do you ever consider more armor, like Bruce has?" He laughed exhaustedly, finally pulling himself up to meet her eyes.

"Bruce doesn't do what I do," he told her as though for the hundredth time. "If I were to add more metal, I would severally limit my range of motion and agility." Barbara rolled her eyes. She knew this – she had heard this argument too many times to care. She had pulled too many pieces of something from his skin to care. Her eyes flickered over to the clock, 2:24 AM flashed back at her in red.

"You know, most girls only have to worry about an affair when their boyfriends don't make it home until after two A.M." He smiled then, his fingers, now gloveless, tipping up over her cheek.

"Come on, Babs, you know I would never do that to you."

"No," she laughed mirthlessly. "Lucky me, I only have to worry about whether or not you're still alive." Dick groaned as he reached out to hug her.

"I'm fine, Barbara. See? One piece and everything."

"This time."

"Babs…"

"Don't," she said, her hand raised to cut him off. "Don't. I'm not asking you to give it up. I know that there's always going to be danger here, and I know you're always going to be one of the first ones to put yourself into it."

Dick fully picked himself off from the couch now, only to crouch down in front of her wheelchair, his hands reaching out for hers.

"What do you want me to say, Barbara?" he leaned up to kiss her, but Barbara pulled away with a sigh.

"What are we doing, Dick? What are we? You and I both know this job, this life we have is going to kill us eventually. And probably you before me. What am I even suppose to do with that? How are we supposed to build some kind of life from this?" Dick watched her carefully, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet.

"Barb? Look at me." he moved his hand to pull her face towards his. "What's going on in that crazy genius head of yours?" His laughter and the touch of a smile on his face made Barbara's insides melt. It almost made her give in. Almost. But her lips held her secret tight.

"Nothing," she lied. And of course he knew she was lying. He was about to call her on it too when another voice joined in their conversation via the comm. Link in Dick's ear.

"Nightwing," the voice hissed. "I need you. Now. I'm sending coordinates to your GPS system." Dick cleared his throat before responding.

"How urgent are we talking here, B? I'm kinda in the middle of –"

"Now." The voice growled. "We've got her." The older man on the other end didn't leave much room for debate.

"Go," Barbara whispered when his eyes met hers apologetically. She watched as he put his uniform top back on and clicked the far too few armored plates back into place. He gave her a smile before plastering the mask back on over his eyes. She didn't snub him this time when he leaned down to kiss her lips.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised leaping effortlessly onto the windowsill.

"I don't care about speed, just come back in one piece," she demanded. With a blown kiss over his shoulder, Dick Grayson, now fully Nightwing leapt from the window and out into the night. If he had been just a second slower, as Barbara knew he wouldn't be, he would have seen her bring her hands down to cradle her own abdomen, her fingers slowly running patterns over the life that grew within her.

"Just come back home to us," she whispered, not bothering to close the window as she wheels her chair back around to her workstation. It was going to be another long, long night in Gotham City.