Hi everyone, I was digging through papers and found this. Thought I'd type it up instead of just throwing it away. I wrote this before I saw how un-stuck up Tim is as Tim Drake, so sorry if he's a little OOC, plus he's adopted earlier here. Also, Tim and Cassie have this mutual like-and-be-friends agreement thing. Not sure how to explain it . . .

And I'm not that good at writing Cassie, so . . .

Cassie POV

I scowl at the doors of the so-called "Manor". Gotham City. Why are we here in the snow and not back in San Francisco, which is across the state from here?

Our school gets the chance to see the Wayne family Manor! That's just great. (Cue sarcasm.)

At least I can go patrol with Robin later when everyone else is asleep.

Finally, someone answers the door. An old guy, a butler?

"Good evening, sirs and madams. Welcome to the Wayne Manor. I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler, and no, you cannot order me around. Come in."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms as we walked in.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne, Bruce's adoptive son. Call me Tim. I'm sorry Bruce couldn't make it here today, he has some work he needs to do.

"If you see a male young adult walking around, don't freak out, it's my adoptive brother, Richard Grayson-Wayne."

He gives us a tour of some basic rooms, and talks about what they do. Most of the girls are giggling and staring like lovestruck kindergarden girls, and most of the boys are enviously eying his abs.

And abs he does have. I mean, whoa. What does a rich kid do to stay that much in shape?

Soon we were finished, and we mill about the lobby thing he called an atrium (whoa there. Fancy Latin names? Give me a break).

Soon, he starts to look bemused. "Dick. You can come out now."

We look around, confused. We know, of course, that Dick is a nickname for Richard, so we assume he was talking to his brother. But where was he?

Given that we're all from SF, California, they don't think to look up. But I know that Gotham was the city of Bats, so I do. And I shriek.

I jump out of the way just as Richard flips down from the chandelier. He lands, cat-like, on his feet. Or should I say Bat-like in Gotham?

He grins and bows, to everyone's horror. Then he turns to me. "And how does a California girl know to look up in Gotham?"

"Secret boyfriend who would kill me if I said his name?" I manage, sounding uncertain. He grins at Tim.

"Psht. Yeah right," I hear one of the other girls, Patricia, a bully, scoff.

I glare in her direction.

"So, Cassie, was it?"

"Stalker," I mumble under my breath, but he hears it and gives me a subtle smirk before walking over to Timothy. (Nicknames are for friends.)

Later, we go to a museum. The Wayne children tag along in a fancy car I don't know the name of.

They lag behind, watching the exits and entrances warily as if they're expecting something to happen, especially the windows. Which count as entrances in Gotham.

Sure enough, ten armed people dressed in the classic black "I'm-going-to-make-a-museum-hiest" clothes burst in via the windows using ropes. "Hands up! Everyone! Hands up!"

Drake and Grayson slip back somewhere, and I follow them.

"Do you have your uniform?" Is the first think out of Grayson's mouth.

I blink at him, because no way could he figure out I'm Wondergirl in the twenty minutes I've seen him, including transitioning from the Manor to the museum, which took up fifteen minutes of that time.

Drake gives me a look. "Well?"

"What?" I manage, finally forcing coherent words out of my mouth.

Drake rolls his eyes, and slaps something on his face. When he moves his hand away, my eyes widen. "Robin?" I gasp, and I can tell he's rolling his eyes.

Grayson's already changed when I look at him, just putting his mask on. Nightwing. Of course. The flip should have given it away.

"Well?" He asks, and I shake my head.

"Not with me here."

He sighs. "You have to be a civilian then. Sneak back out and help heard the other civilians out when we distract the robbers."

I nod. "Roger that."

"ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! MOVE AWAY FROM THE EXHIBITS! WHO WORKS HERE?"

The gunman quickly focused on a quivering woman in the corner wearing a business suit and a name tag. "YOU! STAND UP AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP, THEN DON'T MOVE!"

Before the poor woman can move, there's a swoosh, and Nightwing and Robin land inside, via window. "Oh, come on, we didn't get to crash any windows!" Robin joked, smirking as he twirled his bo staff, hitting several gunmen in their stomachs. I smile.

Then I turn to my teacher as Robin and Nightwing proceed to keep the gunmen's attention. "You've got to get everyone out of here. I have a boyfriend in Gotham, I know how this works out. Go, take them out, I'll make sure everyone makes it."

He nods, terrified, and the students are slowly trickling out the doors.

The last person has just left, and I'm about to step out of the door when the lead gunman backs away from Nightwing and Robin, his comrades fallen.

"If I can't get away from this, none of us gets away alive!"

He takes out a grenade and pulls the tab, dropping it, and the Bat-boys jump out of the window immediately, dragging the gunman and as many of the others they could grab out also. They had gotten everybody, but then I heard a, "HELP! PLEASE!"

The woman.

Of course someone was stupid enough to remain inside to try to save the relics. I knew how much time was left on the grenade, Nightwing forced us to analyze the types and how long each took to blew up.

10, 9. Not enough. I run over and grab the woman. "No!" She yells. "The artifacts!"

"It's you or the artifacts! Take your pick!" I scream back. 4. 3.

She lets me drag her out.

2.

We burst through the door, but not soon enough.

1.

A large blast engulfs us, and I use my body to shield hers.

We're blown forward, propelled to Robin and the others.

"Cassie!"

Everyone in my class looks surprised, envious, as Robin jumps forward and yells my name.

I laugh hoarsly. "Yeah," I say. "You okay?"

"Don't. Ever. Do that to me again," He growls, then reaches forward and grabs my arms, pulling me forward. I laugh into his mouth as he smashes it on mine, and encircle him with my recently freed arms. He smiles, and I can feel it on my mouth as cold and hot clash, his freezing from standing outside in the snow, and mine burning from the blast. A physical metaphor, if you will, his defining Gotham, mine San Francisco. His the Bat-family, mine the Amazons.

We come up for air.

I glance at my classmates, who are all staring openmouthed. Then I grin at him.

"Spend the night?" He asks, and I laugh again. "Definitely."