He stalked across the rooftops, following her as she moved through the crowd below, weaving her way through busy shoppers and uptight businesspeople. She was carrying a small envelope, one he knew had the words 'Le Sourire de Chat' in black cursive on the back; but it's contents were still a mystery.

Turning into a small street, the girl sped up, the letter clutched to her chest. Stopping abruptly, she looked up to her right at the sign of a run-down café; two large alabaster statues of grinning milkmaids stood to either side of a fading green door. She knocked twice and leant forward, whispering something, before the window-pane to her right shuddered and slid open. Moving inside, she threw a glance over her shoulder and winced, the pane shutting behind her with a sweep.

Jumping down from where he stood, he approached the sliding door, tapping it once or twice. He decided the best way to go was round the back. He didn't count on there being a trigger pad, which he so happened to step on, letting a shot rip into the air.


"What happened?" Nelya bellowed into her phone.

"Can we not discuss this now?" Came Blake's painful but exasperated reply.

"Then what in high heavens do you want to talk about?" She was racing through the city streets, on her way to the cave.

"Just...something else…"

"Blake?" She said, "Blake!" The other end was quiet.

Cursing hard enough to make a sailor nervous, she floored the accelerator, turning down the window and pushing her detachable police siren onto the roof of her car.


Half carrying, half dragging him out of the Batmobile, Nelya swore under her breath, "This is what you get when you go out alone."

"You...were busy." Blake managed, holding the bullet wound at his side and wincing.

She groaned in frustration as she moved towards the treatment area of the cave, "Sod that. You could have waited until after I dropped my parents at the airport. But no, of course not."

"The girl...would have...gotten hurt." His strained voice seethed through gritted teeth as she hauled his arm over the operating table, his leg following, until they were able to get him on it completely, "Couldn't... risk it."

She turned away to tie her hair up and pull on plastic gloves. Taking the tools she needed, she extracted the bullet from the kevlar armour, and noted it was buried deep enough to create severe bruising. Unlatching the suit's ties at his waist, she lifted off the front and let it drop off the other side of the table. She grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his vest underneath, careful not to put pressure on the wound. Peeling back the sweaty but bloodless material, she inspected the bruise: slight discolouration and no dark center meant there weren't any signs of internal bleeding. She sighed in relief as she began wrapping white gauze around his middle.

Finished, she snapped her gloves off, refusing to meet his eyes, "Was this," she gestured to his heavy form, "Worth it?"

"If he could do it alone, so can I." Blake mumbled, looking at his clenched fists.

Her head whirled round, "What did you say?" Pressing the wound gently, so as not to cause bleeding, she grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her, their faces an inch away from each other. She spoke in hushed tones, her eyes square on his, "You are not him, Blake. He was a different man. He is dead. You have to live. You will not make me watch what happened to him happen to you."

There was a brief pause as they realised how close they were to each other. Unwittingly, Blake glanced down at her lips, but remembering himself, looked back up again. Nelya's eyes widened as she loosened her hold of him a little.

"Nelya, I..." Blake began.

A low rumble and faint clicking cut him off. They both shifted their stare at the former part of the cave, eyebrows rising as the disused elevator came creaking down. It stopped when it reached the floor, its doors sliding open. Standing in the middle of the compartment was a small boy, his face hidden by large, black-rimmed glasses. He stepped forward and with awestruck eyes, gazed around the place, "Sweet."


The two very confused adults looked at each other, surprise evident on both their faces, "The hell are you?" Blake demanded as Nelya turned and gingerly stepped towards the boy.

"I should ask you the same question. Since you're the ones under my house." He pushed up his glasses and crossed his skinny arms. By this point, he had just noticed Nelya approcahing him. Peering up at her for a moment, a glazed look passed across his face, his mouth hanging open slightly, "You're...you're really pretty..." The boy mumbled, blushing a deep red.

Nelya smiled, "Thank you very much."

"What?" Blake breathed from where he still sat, watching in disbelief the scene that was playong out before him. Nelya rolled her eyes as she crouched in front of the boy, "Ignore him. Can I ask how you got here?"

He nodded frantically, still staring intently at her.

"So..." Nelya pushed, gesturing with her hands to elaborate.

"Oh." He snapped to attention, "I was playing on the piano upstairs and it did something and the shelf opened and I went through and it was like an elevator and I went down-"

"Kid!" Blake shouted, now on his feet and shuffling towards them, "We get it. Thanks."

There was a moment of silence as Nelya and the boy watched Blake tried, albeit awkwardly, to get up the steps to join them without causing too much pain. Biting back a laugh, Nelya took his arm and helped him up.

The boy wasn't as restrained as her as he burst into a fit of giggles, "You're so old!"

At this, Nelya snorted and let loose a guffaw, pitching forward and holding her stomach.

"Yeah, yeah," Blake scowled at them, "Make fun of the only injured guy here. Not like I was gonna die or anything."

Settling down, the boy surveyed where he was, "Where is 'here', anyway?"

They stopped short, glancing uneasily at each other. "What do you think?" Nelya asked.

"Me?" The boy pointed at himself, blinking as if he had never been asked that question, "It must be a secret hideout." He walked past them, making a bee-line to the Tumbler, "I mean, what place is underground and has all these gadgety things and not a secret base."

"Hey!" Blake called, "Don't touch that! What's you're name?"

"Tim. Tim Drake."


"Well, Tim, you're going to have to leave."

"But I just got here!"

"And you thought you were going to stay?"

"Well yeah." He crossed his arms in defence.

"Give me one good reason."

Tim's eyes darted between the waiting two, trying to come up with something. A small, but defiant, smile spread across his face, "If you don't let me stay, I'll tell everyone about this place."

Taking a sidelong glance at Blake, Nelya raised her eyebrows, grinning, "Tell me you didn't see that coming."

Blake groaned and made his best effort to stalk away. Tim turned to Nelya, who held out her hand, and they high-fived each other, whooping in triumph.