Summary: John Blake gets an unexpected visit from an extremely unexpected guest. The sequel to "Some Legends". Set post The Dark Knight Rises. [One Shot]

Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman franchise. I can only dream…

Author's Note: As always, please read and review. I got a fair bit of the information in this from Wikipedia, and while I'm pretty sure most of it is accurate, please take it with a pinch of salt – you can probably guess that I'm not a martial arts expert.

"Keep The Bike"

Being a hero was not as easy as Bruce Wayne had made it seem.

For starters it didn't pay well. Actually, for that matter, it didn't pay at all and as such Blake had been forced to juggle fighting crime to keep the streets of Gotham safe and finding a day job. He'd come to the conclusion that working in the corner shop selling booze to bored businessmen and harassed single mothers just didn't give him quite the same kick as tearing through the streets of Gotham as his heroic alter-ego Nightwing. But regardless, it paid the bills. And thanks to a few arrangements with Alfred, he'd managed to gain access to the Wayne Enterprises 'armoury'. Bane had plundered it during his occupation of the city, but there were still a few of Lucius Fox's toys available. Blake's personal favourite were a pair of gloves and a matching pair of boots fitted with sophisticated magnetic suction pods, allowing him to scale sheer walls without needing a rope. Where Batman had been able to glide between buildings, Nightwing had settled for simply running up the side of them. He'd found some interesting weapons as well, and now as well as a few of Batman's bat-shaped Shurikens, he possessed a pair of Eskrima sticks for close-quarter fighting. A traditional martial art originating from the Philippines, Eskrima put particular emphasis on weapon-based fighting, particularly the use of sticks and knives. Blake had learnt some martial arts while he had still been with the police force, but since deciding to take up the mantle of Nightwing, he had spent hours perfecting his skills, including learning a crash-course in Eskrima. However, like all of his equipment, the sticks were a little different to their traditional counterparts – these particular sticks were made from an unbreakable polymer and according to Mr Fox, could withstand as much punishment, if not more, than the armour that made up his suit.

Of course, the thing that Blake yearned for the most was one of the Tumblers. Over the course of Batman's career five of the vehicles had been retrieved by Wayne Enterprises. Unfortunately, as quickly as Fox managed to get hold of them, they were destroyed – either by rampaging psychopaths with rocket launchers or by Batman himself when they fell into the wrong hands. After one of his visits to Wayne Enterprises' Applied Sciences Division, Blake had acquired the technical specification for the Tumbler and he wouldn't lie. It looked like a simply awesome machine. Still, with all five vehicles destroyed, the single 'Bat Pod' motorcycle missing and Batman's aircraft (unimaginatively named the Bat) in a thousand tiny pieces somewhere at the bottom of Gotham Bay, Blake would have to make do with a slightly less sophisticated ride. Somehow neither a Chrysler nor a pushbike seemed appropriate forms of transport for a crime-fighting vigilante.

He'd thought about asking Alfred for help, but had decided against the idea just as quickly. Bruce Wayne's old butler had made his point very clear. He would help Blake to become Nightwing, help him take over the legend that Bruce Wayne had intended him to inherit. He had agreed to help build the new hero. But he wouldn't support him. Blake had heard, both from Fox and from Alfred himself, that the butler had been dead-set against Wayne becoming the Batman. He had pleaded with him to stop, but Bruce had been too determined. Alfred would help build the Nightwing. But he wouldn't stand around to watch another great man get himself killed fighting for a cause that Alfred simply couldn't see in the same way that they could. Alfred had never differentiated between Bruce Wayne and the Batman; just as he wouldn't be able to separate John Blake and Nightwing. Blake could respect that, in fact he envied Alfred's ability to simply step away from it. There had been times in the past month and a half when he'd thought it would have been best to simply give up, but the will to continue the legacy and the knowledge that he couldn't live with the guilt if he stopped had kept him fighting. Alfred had done more than enough, so had Lucius Fox. Blake had never intended to include anyone else in his daring – some could go as far as calling it stupid – scheme and yet they had managed to find their own ways in. He was glad of the support they had given him, but now he had reached the point where he had to continue alone.

He had to learn to stand on his own two feet. He had to learn to become the hero that he was meant to be – Batman's successor and his equal.

But first, he needed a cool motorbike…

X

There were many things that John Blake could categorically say that he liked. Expensive ice cream, a pint of beer and decent rock music all fell into that category. Unexpected visits by mysterious strangers, however, most certainly did not.

Blake had been working down in the cave, tinkering and modifying. He had never been particularly good at electronics but since deciding to become a vigilante he'd learnt fast. He reckoned now he could probably make a pretty good stab at fixing the dodgy wiring in the Gotham Police Department headquarters. Not that it would make much difference; the building was falling to bits too quickly for it to be repaired before it became little more than a heap of rubble around a squad of bemused police officers.

He had to pass the Wayne Orphanage to get home, and occasionally he would pop in to see how things were getting on. As a regular face there, the staff were all too happy to let him in and make him a cup of coffee as they regaled him with stories of tiny tearaways. Blake didn't mind, he liked to be around these people, where he didn't need to prove he was anything other than what he was. He felt peaceful when he visited the orphanage and, to a certain degree, safe.

Which was why, when he walked in that particular night and the woman on the reception desk told him that he had a visitor, he was instantly suspicious. The only people he really expected to try and contact him where Alfred and Lucius, and both of them knew more subtle and much more effective ways of contacting him than via the orphanage. Both of them knew his phone number, if nothing else.

He had followed the receptionist, with some degree of trepidation. She'd lead him down the corridor to one of the offices, before gesturing him inside. Inside was sat one of the very few people that Blake had expected never to see again. Unfortunately, it was the only one he was hoping never to see again.

Selina Kyle.

X

"I wasn't expecting to see you again." Blake didn't bother starting the conversation with the customary pleasantries. Selina was a notorious cat burglar and Blake had spent a good deal of his career in the police trying to apprehend her. He'd managed it once too, only for Bane to release her from prison during his occupation. Since then she'd resumed her customary evasion of the police. There was a reason Blake hadn't wanted to see her again.

His first priority had been to get her out of the orphanage. While he had no idea why she was there or why she wanted to see him, nor how she had known to find him there, he was pretty sure that getting a known thief out of a location that was quite as opulent as Wayne Manor was probably a good idea. Despite the fact it was now an orphanage, the mansion still housed a small fortune. Now they were walking down the road away from the orphanage, Blake setting the pace and making no attempt to ensure that his visitor kept up.

"Well, in that Officer Blake, I must admit the feeling was mutual."

He frowned at that. Now he was even more curious to find out why she was here to see him, now he knew that she wasn't happy about it.

"I'm not an Officer anymore," he said eventually. "I quit the force." She raised an eyebrow.

"I'd say it was a wise choice, but I don't think you want my opinion." She paused. "But they did blow up a bridge in your face." Blake shrugged. While he'd been annoyed at the time, the police officers had only been following orders. Sometimes duty overruled everything else. It wasn't the way Blake operated, but Blake wasn't the entire force. That was partly why he had quit.

"I take it you've come here to do more than compliment my career path." She pouted at him.

"You're all business, as usual." She sighed. "You're no fun, Blake. No fun at all." Blake suppressed a scowl. He was running out of inclination to carry on with this conversation. It was getting him nowhere fast.

"Yes, yes, I'm boring. Now do you want to tell me why you're here, or shall I just go home? I have a tub of Häagen-Dazs in the freezer, and I would hate to keep it waiting." She rolled her eyes.

"Alright then, we'll be boring. I've heard rumours."

"That's so helpful," said Blake. "I hear rumours when I go out to buy a pint of milk. I don't need a renowned cat burglar to hunt me down to tell me idle gossip."

She put her hands on her hips, the picture of irritation. Clearly, she hadn't finished.

"What sort of rumours?" he asked eventually.

"That you're planning on taking over the mantle of Batman."

Blake's blood ran cold. How the hell did she know that? Only two other people knew – Alfred and Lucius. Technically, it was three if you included Bruce Wayne who had clearly intended for him to continue the legend, but since he was dead, Blake didn't think he really counted.

"Who told you that?"

She smiled, knowingly.

"Oh, you know – a friend of a friend." Blake rolled his eyes. She wasn't going to tell him. He wasn't surprised. He seemed to remember she'd been just as unhelpful when he'd apprehended her and taken her in to questioning, many months ago. "Who told me doesn't matter. What matters is whether it's true or not."

Blake thought about what to say. If he denied it she would likely assume he was lying. If he confirmed it then he would be letting a wanted criminal know his identity and the whole point of being a masked vigilante was that only people you trusted knew who you really were. And Blake trusted Selina Kyle about as much as he trusted the fuel gauge on his Chrysler. His car said that it had been out of gas for the last month, despite the fact he'd filled it up three times.

"It's true." He took a leap of faith. Something, and he couldn't work out what it was, told him that this was a serious conversation and that in this particular instance, Kyle could be trusted.

"Excellent." She beamed at him and then stopped walking abruptly. Confused, Blake watched as she turned and dragged a sophisticated camouflage net off of something. It took him several moments to realise what it was exactly that he was looking at.

"Where the hell did you get that from?"

He was looking at the Bat Pod.

"Batman gave it to me. I was going to use it to make my great escape. But then I decided to hang around. Considering I killed Bane and did more than my fair share of the legwork in the final fight, I think I earned it." Blake had only heard sketchy details surrounding Bane's death and the ensuing car chase across Gotham City – he'd been preoccupied nearly getting himself killed at the time. This made everything a whole lot clearer. "If you are going to carry on the legend, then I thought you might want the bike back."

Blake smiled. His gut had seen him through – he had been right to trust her just this once, it seemed. As he responded, he thumbed a small remote control that was strapped round his wrist.

"That's very kind of you, Miss Kyle." She shook her head.

"It's not Miss Kyle anymore." She flexed her fingers and Blake caught sight of a wedding ring.

"Who is he?" he asked, on reflex. She smiled again, and Blake got the feeling that she was keeping something from him and something very important at that. He just couldn't put his finger on what.

"Just some guy," she said eventually. She jerked her thumb at the Bat Pod. "Now do you want this or not?"

"Keep the bike," he said, hearing the low growl of an approaching engine. The Artificial Intelligence system driving his new bike was based heavily on the system from the Tumbler, and its timing was spot on. It sounded like it was running perfectly, and he'd only finished it an hour ago.

"I've got my own."

Author's Note: I hope you liked it, and I'm sorry to all those of you who expected it to be Bruce Wayne/Batman who came to visit him. I like to think I'm not that predictable. Please leave a review.