Dick watched as the girl stepped backwards, smiling up at him. Her glassy eyes looked alive at that moment. He wouldn't mind to see that sight again some time.

"I need to go." she said after a moment.

He nodded, grinning again from ear to ear. "Want me to carry you down, Gray-eyes?"

She tried to frown, but it didn't work. "Stop calling me that."

"What else am I supposed to call you?"

She opened her mouth to reply, and then clamped it shut. Damn. Mentally berating herself for nearly giving herself away unknowingly, she vowed that she would not let slip her name again - not until she was certain she would never see this handsome (it was hard admitting that, considering what a pain he was at times) young man again (and oh, how she hoped this was the last time she'd seem him) again.

"Almost," Dick muttered. This was the first time she'd ever slipped up. It made him wonder. Did anyone else know her name? Maybe she was supposed to be left alone at these parties, maybe there was a reason she stood in the corner staring into space - maybe, maybe, maybe...

The girl shifted from one foot to the other. "You don't have to carry me... but you can walk me down."

"Aw, c'mon, princess - you sure I can't carry you?"

"Don't call me princess." Her tone was indignant. What a brilliant idea this had been.

"Can I still carry you?" the hopefulness in his tone wasn't all fake - it seemed to her that he had some hope of actually carrying her out of the building like a damsel in distress. But by the glint in his eye she had to take a guess that he was joking.

Oh, good lord. What had he been like back before she'd known of him? Judging by his behavior, he hadn't grown up all that much. She shook herself mentally. She probably didn't even want to know.

"You can walk me down if you want."

He nodded and allowed her to the lead the way, moving easily through the crowd as she headed for the elevator.

But instead of going inside those double doors, she turned abruptly to the left and headed for the heavy door that led to the stairs.

"Taking the long way?" Dick chirped, waving at Tim over his shoulder when he saw a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his brother's face, following her out, allowing the door to bang shut behind them as they slowly descended towards the ground floor. The spiral downwards looked endless.

"Um... yeah, I've never been one for an awkward elevator ride," she provided, slowing her pace, taking her time. Little did he know that she was trying to prolong their time together. The elevator ride would have gone too fast, would have been to awkward for her - she knew that there was a real possibility that she might never see him again. She'd been hoping for that possibility after the first time they'd met. He'd been friendly, nice, seemingly unassuming of what she was, of who she was (she couldn't say that anyone would want to meet the real her) - something that she'd tried to avoid in people. You couldn't trust people. Sometimes, even though they weren't, it was like they were wearing a mask.

And you could only know the real them when you'd seen them with and without their masks - figurative or not.

Dick followed her at a slow pace, allowing her to be a few stairs ahead of him, watching her thoughtfully as her hand went up to her pony tail to play with one of the ends of the ribbon. It looked to be a habit of hers.

The walked downward ( there were so many freaking stairs) in silence for a bit before she halted, mid step. He halted as well, his hand hovering over the rail.

"Marie."

He blinked.

Had he heard what he thought he'd just heard?

"Excuse me?" he asked, an eyebrow going up.

"My name. It's Marie."

The girl's posture was rigid. She held her breath, letting the silence wash over them again. This silence, though - it bothered them both. But she waited. Waited for him to speak. He couldn't see it, but those gray eyes of hers were squeezed shut

Dick was smirking like the brat he'd been known to be on occasion as Robin. Although she couldn't see it, though, there was gratitude on his face. Finally. She'd said it. And he wasn't about to take it for granted - but irritating her seemed the way to go. She probably didn't want touchy-feely crap from him.

"Mary it is, then."

He heard her near soundless sigh of relief before she turned to scowl at him.

"You said it wrong. It's nor Mary - it's Marie."

Dick crossed his arms over his chest as she put her hands on her hips, gray, glassy eyes narrowed.

"Right. Mary. That's what I said, isn't it?"

She knew he was messing with her, knew that it was like him to kid around, knew that he was enjoying this as much as she didn't want to leave. But why couldn't he say it right?

"No, no, Mah - reeeee."

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say that, then, Mah - reeeee."

Her scowl twisted up into what appeared to be a smile warring with a frown. "No, no, you idiot - "

"What? What?" he held up his hands, laughing freely at her. "Princess, Gray-eyes - Mary. Good for me."

She sighed and shook her head. "You are utterly ridiculous," she murmured.

"And utterly charming, handsome, and awesome," he added.

It was her turn to raise any eyebrow at him.

She turned back around and began heading down the stairs again, with the ex-Boy Wonder following close behind.

"Marie," he said, when he saw that they were nearing the bottom.

"Yes?" she had returned to her usual self - quiet. Not shy. Not so much, at least. But at least she was speaking to him. Her being quiet, though - it sort of bothered him, although she seemed even more at ease than before (but he'd seen how relaxed she'd been while dancing, and he had to take a guess and say that she usually wouldn't have been able to say yes). He didn't know why.

"My name," he said, after a split second of hesitation, "it's Richard."

She stopped where she was, one step away from the platform, and turned her head so her eyes could meet his. The girl swallowed, hard. He had dark, clear eyes - eyes that held things that were akin to secrets that probably were always whispering to him in the back of his mind. He was as much of a stranger to him as he was to her.

"Richard?" she repeated.

"Yeah," he said, "you can call me Dick, though."

He couldn't believe he'd just told her that. He thought about it for a moment as they continued to look at each other, both suspicious both unassuming of who and what the other was, and both equally as perplexed as to how they had somehow ended up, paused, on the stairs as the snow fell outside, clouding the air with the wet flakes that seemed to stick to everything. But as the seconds ticked by, neither of them had looked out the window to the left of her, to the right of him.

Finally, she spoke.

"Dick, huh?"

He nodded.

A grin crept over her features.

"Well, okay then, Dicky."

"Right, then, Mary. Should we get down to the lobby or does Cinderella not have to go back to her pumpkin-carriage at the stroke of midnight?"

Anyone else would have seen it as impatient - anyone but Dick. Marie, at first, thought that he was trying to get rid of her (hadn't she been warned that everyone was untrustworthy? Yes, she had) but then she snorted.

"I'm not Cinderella, Wonder Boy."

"Does this mean you think I'm wonderful?"

Marie opened her mouth, clamped it shut, and began her descent once again, Dick following, wondering about what she'd just called him. It had been awfully close to Boy Wonder. He knew he hadn't given anything away - at all.

He categorize it as a coincidence (a civilian one at that; heroes like him just didn't have one), but did not dismiss it as they finally reached the bottom floor.

The clerk behind a stainless granite counter looked up to see the two walking side by side (sort of: she was ahead of him by, at the least, half a step).

"Miss," he greeted her, reaching under the counter and pulling out her small black back with a long strap that would go over a shoulder and across her chest. She nodded her thanks to the clerk, who turned away from her abruptly after handing the item over, going back to whatever she'd interrupted.

Marie sighed, glancing at Dick, and motioned with a bob of her head to follow her as she headed for the revolving glass doors, a small lump forming in her throat. She desperately tried to swallow it, to get rid of it. She shouldn't have felt a thing - she shouldn't have allowed him to dance with her, shouldn't have spoken to him, shouldn't have walked down God-knows how many flights of stairs just so they could talk to one another in private as well as enjoy the other's company (while trying to figure out why they were suspicious of the other) in the silence that seemed to follow them around and crash down on them like a great wave from the ocean: heavy, suffocating.

She pushed her way forward, her hands leaving prints (prints that would not show up in any database - ever...hopefully) on the frosty glass as she stepped outside, her shoes immediately soaking up the snow that had been trampled on by few, that also had been reduced to nothing but slush that made her toes curl uncomfortably in her flats.

She turned around to face him. They stood apart, snow falling as they simply looked at one another, slowly getting soaked and chilled to the bone. To Dick, in her dress, in the snow - she was amazing, with those strange eyes of hers, and that little ribbon fluttering around in the slight, brisk wind that blew the snow eastward. To Maire, to her disappointment, she could not determine the color of his hair, the color of his suit, or his eyes - or anything. She guessed he liked to wear darker colors - perhaps blue, if she even knew what blue was.

But she only managed to see him in shades of gray.

It stung, to know that she didn't even know the color of the sky, or the grass - or anything as simple as that.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then a sharp, shrill ring filled the air, from her purse, and she fumbled with the zipper to fish it out. Once it was on, she saw who was calling, and her felt her hopeful expression turn crestfallen.

Oh.

What a way to ruin the moment.

Grimacing, she snapped it shut, cutting off the ringing, and shoved it back into her purse with now shaking hands.

"I - "

"It's okay," he assured her, as if she knew she was going to give him some poor excuse as to why she had to leave him. "You can go."

Relief and guilt flooded her body, crushing her heart as she nodded, willing herself not to cry or sob or ask for him to hug her or anything like that. They would not meet again - she had to be sure of that (or at least she told herself that she had to be sure of that). Her hands, still wobbly, went to play with ribbon, and accidentally tugged harder than intended, and then she was clutching it behind her back, tight in her little fist, her hair wet, framing her face, plastered on her forehead.

The world could have been ending for all she cared; she could only see him.

"I guess this is where you go and I go back inside and mope around till I get out of that party, right?" Dick asked after a moment of awkward silence.

Awkward. He nearly flinched. Why did it have to be awkward? It shouldn't have been. They barely knew one another. One dance, one scrambled conversation - that was all it had been.

Right?

"I guess so..." she murmured, and he turned and started to head towards the revolving doors.

What popped out of her mouth next nearly made her want to dig a hole in the sidewalk and bury her head in it, and never come up for air.

"What color are your eyes?"

She regretted these words as soon as the sentence had begun to form in her mouth. Why had she asked that? This was foolish. She had no right asking him, it wasn't in her person to do this. She was not supposed to, at all, talk to anyone but those she was told to talk to and had always talked to. But she had to leave - so why not blurt our an embarrassing, stupid question?

He halted, and he whipped his head around to face her. He'd heard her. He didn't need her to repeat it.

It took him only a moment to guess why she'd asked. Anyone - anyone but her, it seemed - that he'd met had told him that he'd had navy blue eyes, much like the color that was her dress.

Didn't see that one coming.

"Blue." He turned again to leave, but this time, she caught his hand with her own.

"Wait a moment," she said.

And he did.

Marie took the hand she held and laid his palm out flat, and carefully put the ribbon in his hand before she turned and darted away, surprisingly fast, through the slush, across the street, and onward.

Dick made a fist around the gray ribbon, watching as Marie disappeared into the snowy night.

~ the end ~