Please note: this is a sequel/follow-up to 'Not as Planned' in which Dick and a semi-willing companion try to evade Batman along with the entire hero community after being accused of taking a bribe and allowing a criminal to escape.

For Ancient Midnight—Happy Birthday, darlin'!

Fall Out

"I can't believe you'd—no, I believe it. I just can't believe you let it play out as far as you did without any hint to me about what you were doing. I could have been killed and, as it was, I'm in some seriously deep shit with my Captain at BPD." Dick paced back and forth, trying, without success, to channel some of his rage. "I could lose my job and then everything I'm working for down there will be blown to hell, not that you care."

Bruce didn't say anything, just sat there at the computer console, watching Dick vent.

"And the girl, she's lost her job and whatever else..."

"She can work at WE."

Dick gave a long look. "Like she can't add two and two?"

"You said she did some kind of medical work, I'm sure Leslie can use help. I assume you have her contact information? Deal with it." A momentary pause as he tapped a few keys on the console, all unnecessary and simply buying time. "You really didn't know what I was doing? 'Either sloppy or lazy on your part."

"Of course I knew. I knew as soon as Selina tried to bribe me, she knows better. I played along to see how it would play out. My point is that you saw no reason to let me in on what you were doing." Dick stopped, turning to face Bruce. "You have a 'stop' plan for every vigilante, don't you?"

"It would be negligent not to."

Naturally. And now the JLA knew as well and that meant that Batman was getting major flack and possibly long term consequences from his latest stunt.

"I know I'm stating the obvious here, but I take it you didn't take their probable reaction to your latest bout of paranoia into account?"

"I assume that as soon as they take the time to consider the need they'll come around."

With his barely concealed snort of 'yeah, right' hanging in the cave's air, Dick mounted his bike, refraining from squealing his wheels as he left to start damage control.

Bruce really needed to work on his people skills.

Journal entry:

It had seemed almost innocuous at first. Well, all right, maybe not exactly innocuous. At first it had just seemed the decent thing to do; help someone who'd been injured. You'd do the same for a dog hit by a car, right? And if the dog was actually a world renowned super-hero you'd be a criminal not to help when you found injured and you were the only person around.

Right?

Of course, right.

Six months ago that happened to me. I was leaving work via the back alley detour to toss the office trash and saw Nightwing. He was ambushed and struck by a speeding car which disappeared as soon as he'd been side-swiped and hurt. I'd wanted to get him to a hospital but he refused, insisted that I get him to a safe house. When I'd hesitated because he obviously needed major medical attention he'd insisted that I was under no obligation but basically it was a safe house or I could get lost. I'd followed his directions and a safe house it was.

That was the beginning.

Patty looked at what she'd written; it was cold, bloodless and didn't begin to convey what those weeks had been like. "God, he's Nightwing, he depended on me to help him and"—oh God, it was amazing? Incredible? Unbelievable? She didn't have the words to explain, even to herself. Days and nights in hiding, running, changing names and identities and jobs. Staying in cheap apartments, crummy motels and camping out in the middle of nowhere.

Cops and robbers. Cowboys and Indians. It was living fiction.

It was the scariest and most exciting she'd probably ever live through.

From there the story had come out that he had to go underground for a while, that I needed to do the same for my own health and that had led to the cross-country, several week odyssey together. I'd phoned work and the family, saying that I needed a break, that they weren't to worry and I'd be in touch. No one believed me but whatever, it wasn't like there was anything they could really do and I did come home—eventually.

And that was the problem. No, not the coming home part, the repercussions of my disappearing for a few weeks part.

"Jesus, Patty, do you have any idea how damn worried we were? You mother thought you were kidnapped or dead or something and Jimmy—he was beside himself. He called the cops, posted your picture and profile on every site he could find about missing persons and practically lived on his damn laptop. How the hell could you..." It went on for two hours before dad finally wound down and walked out of the room.

Then there was the little problem with my job; I didn't have one. "Pats, you know how much a part of this place you've been but I have to have someone reliable, not someone who's going to take off for a few weeks without warning. I hate to do this, but..."

And Jimmy, my fiance? My ex-fiance? "Who the hell was he? Don't give me that 'I had to get away to think ' crap. You were out getting whatever you think I don't give you. Well, fine. Your choice, you do whatever you want and you go do it with whoever the hell you think might be more fun. Have a nice life, bitch."

My family is pissed, no job, no references, no fiance and my girl friends weren't speaking to me beyond a couple of lunches which ended with rolled eyes and a snide 'Oh, really—good party, was it?'.

Nightwing, Finn or whatever he was going by now was incommunicado. I didn't know how to get in touch, don't know where he is, his number, his e-mail or address. Maybe—maybe— I could get him through the press or something but maybe not. And if I do try to get a hold of him through the media then everyone would know that something—I still didn't know exactly what since he'd put it on a 'need to know' basis.

And then, well and then who knew?

I'd be stalked? Harassed? Followed? Memory wiped? Witness Protection Program? Killed?

No unemployment because I walked away from my job. Yes, I'd been fired after the fact but under the circumstances...The rent was due and my bank account isn't looking too healthy. No references. No openings because everyone and their brother/sister were looking to the health industry for jobs now. Seven hundred applicants for every opening, or so it seemed.

What a mess. What a miserable mess.

She looked at what she'd just written. 'Mess' didn't begin to describe.

Dick managed to hold onto his Bludhaven job by the skin of his teeth. Demoted down from Sergeant to plain old Officer Grayson and handed all the really crap assignments but at least he was still on the inside. He could still gather information on the rampant corruption and all of that, the stuff which was the reason for the whole BPD gig in the first place.

But the Patty thing bothered him. So did the whole 'Bruce may have finally crossed the line' thing, too. Which line? Pick one; paranoia, lack of loyalty to his friends and co-workers, putting his 'son' in the cross hairs of every known hero on the planet and, eventually, in the sights of every law enforcement agency planet-wide. Thanks a lot for that one. He'd spent the last dozen of so years of his life building up a reputation as one of the best, most accomplished and professional good guys out there; that was now compromised. The fact that there was no substance behind the rumors of him taking the bribe meant nothing. The old where's there's smoke there has to be fire carried the day and now Nightwing was suspect.

Sitting on the apartment roof, he watched Patty through her seventh floor window, just as he'd been doing on and off for a couple of months now.

Tired of his own indecision, tonight he made his move. Launching the jump-line, he walked out of her bedroom as she made herself a salad for dinner.

Barely registering surprise she didn't bother to look up. "I was wondering when you'd make an appearance."

"I heard that you were trying to get a hold of me."

"Three months ago, Finn."

"...Sorry." He really was sorry and guilty about how her going along with him had messed up her life. "I know I caused problems for you. I'd like to help if you'd let me."

"Thanks but I don't need a handout." In fact, she did.

"I can help you get a new job if you want."

"No witness protection program?" She tossed the salad, just greens with no add-ins. Money was tight. "Not that you'd care but I was being hassled by some of your co-workers, asking what I knew about you old partner's plans."

"I know, I'm sorry about that and it won't happen again." He knew, he'd called them off. "You're experienced working in a medical office, there's a clinic which needs administrative help. Decent pay and benefits."

She finally looked at him. "Guilty conscience?"

"Yes. No. I mean, yes I feel bad about you losing your job and your boyfriend and all of that but no, that's not why I want to help."

She just stared at him, stared a challenge.

"All right, maybe a little but, I mean I think, I know that we became friends and I help my friends; especially if I'm the cause of their problems."

"We're friends?"

"Well, yeah." He looked confused. "Aren't we?" Strained silence. "Okay, it's not like we hit the movies or anything but after that trip across country and everything, I thought..."

She refrained from shaking her head in disbelief for a moment. "No, you're right, I guess we are friends." After what they'd been through together? She'd wiped up his blood, sat beside him in a car for thousands of miles, shared apartments, motel rooms and a campsite with him, even faked being married and they'd gotten along remarkably well the entire time—or most of it, anyway; he had a point. Taking two plates from the cabinet she handed him one, "'Hungry?"

Nodding, he filled his plate as she got the Bleu cheese dressing from the fridge, remembering that was what he always ordered. "So tell me about this job..."

"I assume that you don't want to talk about the League's reaction to your stunt."

Batman, cowl pushed back as he tapped the console's keyboard, ignored Dick's comment.

"Look, I know why you did it, I don't even completely disagree with you theory of needing contingency plans, but you really pissed everyone off with how you went about it." Nothing. "And, I know you don't care, but I'm catching flack for supposedly going along with the thing. No one, okay, almost no one believes that I wasn't working with you on this one."

Silence. Somewhere in the cave water was dripping.

"This compromised my standing with the JLA, makes me look like a liar and your toady. The only ones currently speaking to me are Wally and Clark and they both want to know when—if ever—you plan on facing everyone and explaining yourself."

A pause which went on until it became awkward.

"If you go talk to them, go to the next meeting they're willing to let it go. They're just angry that you implied that you don't trust them and since they think I was in on it, they think I'm somehow above suspicion and that's making it this side of impossible for me to work with anyone right now."

Crickets chirping.

"Bruce, you owe me at least that much."

He turned in his chair, studied Dick for a long moment before turning back to his work. "What makes you think I don't have contingency plans for you?"

Journal Entries

I'm employed again at that clinic Finn/Nightwing hooked me up with. It's a slight raise and every benefit under the sun, so that's good. God knows I need the money and couldn't afford any health insurance on my own. The work is okay, the people are nice enough and it's always busy so the days go fast.

My family, my stupid brother and my parents are convinced that I was off on a 'fling', as they put it, 'sowing some wild oats' and a few other cliches and keep bringing it up non-stop.

"So, when are you and your young man going to stop by for dinner?"

"Is it still serious? You two didn't have a falling out, did you, dear?"

"You're sure that he isn't just stringing you along?"

On and on. I hate it.

The weird thing is that I really think that Night wing and I are sort of real friends. I mean we basically lived together and depended on each other for weeks while he was on the run. Y'know,l I finally asked him what this was all about and all he'd say was that it was sort of like a training exercise.

An exercise designed by Batman to 'make sure everyone knows what to do if one of us (he meant someone in the hero community) went rogue'. That's all he said but he seemed pretty pissed about the whole thing. He didn't seem angry about me or any of that, in fact he apologized when I said something about it.

"Are you kidding? You were the only thing which made it bearable." That's what he said, I swear he did.

I know he got me my new job. He also paid the first three months plus the security on my new apartment.

"You didn't have to do that."

He just shrugged. I guess he has some serious money behind him, but that's no real surprise. I don't care about that, I honestly don't; it's not like it wasn't obvious.

Then I asked him how he can work with Batman.

"We work pretty well together, balance each other; most of the time, anyway."

"Seriously?"

He gave me that half smile he uses when he knows he's busted. "Most of the time. 'Used to, anyway. It's been a little rocky lately."

"How long is 'lately'?"

He didn't answer but after that Nightwing/Finn started dropping by once or twice a week, always without warning, usually staying for dinner—take out he'd always pay for and sometimes bring with him It never went beyond that; nothing ever happened, just friends sharing a pizza or Chinese, maybe watching a movie and talking about this and that.

Friends.

Bruce watched the monitor; Dick's car wearing one of it's many outer shells to disguise it's owner's identity, was parked a couple of blocks from the girl's apartment again, just as it was with some regularity. He could understand the boy being attracted to a pretty girl but this was beyond the pale, beyond one of his usual crushes and more than a simple guilty conscience resulting from their forced time together. Add that together with Dick making sure that she had a good job with Leslie and, well, it was just more that he'd counted on.

Dick hadn't been to the manor, the cave or even Wayne Enterprises since the last visit ended with hard words, that's why Bruce was actually surprised when he felt more than heard the heavy door silently opening.

"No patrol tonight?"

"'Later. 'You?"

Dick nodded, yes he'd go do his job in Bludhaven in a couple of hours. Sitting on the leather couch facing the fireplace, he waited for Bruce to say something. The problem was that Bruce was at a loss as where to begin, though it was apparent that Dick was here to somehow clear the air.

"Do you need help with a case?"

Dick shook his head, refusing to help Bruce with this. Fine.

"I take it that you're still upset about what happened." Nothing. "You know why I did it and you know why it's important to know how everyone would react to a possible defection or change of heart to one of the vigilantes."

"I do, yes."

"So what's the problem?"

"...You really don't get it, do you? Okay, try to work with me here; I was attacked by some goons you hired or whatever, injured and forced on the run for weeks."

"And you know why you couldn't be told ahead of time, your reactions had to be real. I don't see why you're having so much trouble with this."

Dick was making an concerted effort not to lose his cool here, even for Bruce, this was obtuse. "Not that it was the first time or anything but I have a problem with being used as a guinea pig."

"You were fine, you are fine."

Dick exhaled in exasperation, stood and walked out. On the ride home everything was drowned out by the roar of his bike and his thoughts; what did he expect—'I'm sorry, what was I thinking? Don't worry m'boy, it'll never happen again?'

He'd signed on for this when he was nine years old, Bruce wouldn't change or, ore to the point, Batman would never change. To hope for anything else was naive.

Signaling for a right turn as he approached exit twenty-seven, he veered off, heading to Patty's apartment and a quiet talk over take-out Chinese.

1/30/12