A/N: Hello m'dears… I hope that the week has been a good one to you.

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Bruce is going to be pissed at me for deciding to attend tonight's Masquerade Ball, was the thought currently running through Raya's mind as she climbed into the black stretch limo waiting for her outside the GCPD. No matter how she'd try and justify why she chose to go against his orders and show up at the Wayne Foundation's Annual Halloween Masque, she knew Bruce was still going to be annoyed at her. He had good reason to be upset with her if she wanted to be completely honest with herself (not that she did).

Jonathan Crane trying to approach her at the masque was an ever increasing possibility. Her need to attend the event far outweighed the reasons for why she should stay away, though. She just had to attend. She just had to! Damian was counting on her to come to the event dressed as Padmé Amidala in order to balance out his being dressed as young Anakin Skywalker. Unlike his older brother (who'd promised to dress as the pre-Darth Vader version of Anakin), who'd decided to not fulfill his brotherly obligation because of the final dissolution of whatever the hell their relationship had been, she refused to let her baby birdie down. Crane and Jason both can go to hell, she thought savagely as she stared moodily out the window. I refuse to let either man spoil this night for Damian.

During the long months that Bruce had been wandering through Darkseid's Omega Sanction, there had been a number of changes that she and Dick had made in the fabric of their unique little family. Holidays were things they'd mandated were affairs they were going to start celebrating like normal families did, Gotham's super villains be damned. It had been Halloween that quickly became the favorite of the youngest Wayne family member. The idea of Robin dressing up in a costume had simply struck a whimsical little note in the then ten-year-old Damian. It'd been a fanciful note that amused both her and Dick as well. It became a tradition that all of them (including Tim, much to Damian's disdain and displeasure) would dress up in costumes that were determined by Alfred drawing a theme out of a hat. And the Wayne family costume theme for this year was Star Wars.

That was why she was currently wearing an elaborately smocked robe in shot midnight velvet over a white silk chiffon nightgown. Just why her little birdie decided she needed to wear this particular costume, she did not know. At least it's better than the gold bikini Dick suggested I wear, she thought with a snort. She watched as the limo took a position amongst the long line of other vehicles bearing costumed guests waiting to be dropped in front of the Gotham Museum of Natural History. Spotlights splashed across the museum's dramatic gothic revival facade as limos dropped off men and women in a sea of ghoulish, but stylish attire.

Throngs of paparazzi lined the red carpet, snapping shots for the society columns and websites. Flashes went off in rapid succession, practically blinding the people as they alighted from their vehicles. Raya found herself wishing that she could have arrived at the fundraiser when Bruce and Damian had in order to have had a buffer against the ensuing photographic onslaught. But there'd been no other choice. She'd been needed to watch while her uncle's detectives interrogated the always unpredictable (and mentally unstable) Victor Zsasz.

If Bruce were here, he'd say that this was what she "deserved for not returning home after work." Well, if Jason had not chosen to punish Damian by reneging on his promise to him, I might not have chosen to defy you, was her silent response to the absent Wayne patriarch. Gritting her teeth in preparation for the voracious attention she was about to receive from the press loitering outside the museum's entrance, Raya stepped from the limousine and joined the other guests who were strolling along the red mile.

"Well, would you lookee here, boys!" One paparazzo chortled on her left. "We gots us one of those rich society snobs that don't want her purty little face plastered all over the society pages in the morning."

"Hey sweetheart, we'se gonna figure out who youse are beneath dat mask!" another paparazzo shouted at her. "May as well make it easy on yerself and give us the shots that we want!"

He pushed through the throng of people in order to get a close-up of her face. Raya wasn't worried about him discerning her identity. The midnight blue domino she wore concealed the majority of her features from view. More photographers turned to Raya, who quietly pressed a button on the gold cuff that circled one slender wrist. All at once, every one of their cameras went dead. Upset paparazzi cursed their malfunctioning equipment. Raya repressed a smile and made a note to thank Mr. Fox for installing that particularly useful gizmo for her. Climbing the stone steps, she approached the front entrance.

"Kean," she said to the woman taking names at the door. "Mr. Wayne arranged for me to be added to the guest list."

"Of course, Dr. Kean," the greeter said warmly. "Right through here."

Raya entered to find the masquerade already fully underway. Black bulbs glowed eerily from where they had been strung along the balustrade and across the ceiling. Thin cotton webbing had been strung across the ceiling and along the upper galley. Dozens of thick tallow candles had been set out in antique candle stands, their flickering wicks casting spooky shadows upon the walls and elongating darkened corners. The A-list members of Gotham high society mingled throughout the gallery, their brightly colored masks almost as extravagant as the jewels and costumes they were wearing. The main exhibit room, located to the right of the entrance, had been converted into a dance floor. A live band was performing on a stage in front of an exhibit on fossil remains that had been discovered in Gotham a few years ago.

Thirsty guests congregated at the open bar set up in the smaller exhibit room. Champagne flowed like water and ice clinked almost musically against crystal glasses. Waiters circled with tempting fare spread out on gleaming silver trays. Nodding politely to anybody that tried to engage her in conversation and neatly eluding any man foolish enough to attempt to snatch a hold of her, Raya weaved her way through the crowd with ease, searching for the familiar features of the eccentric billionaire. She knew he was likely the only male in attendance who would not have conceded to the masquerade theme and worn either a mask or a costume. Too bad he couldn't have worn the cape and cowl, she thought with a small chortle of amusement. I would have had no problem finding him then.

Where was the blasted man lurking?

Taking the stairs up to the mezzanine she stood at the railing and scanned the dance floor below. A sea of masked male partygoers in tuxedos would have made the task of finding one particular male a challenge. She, however, was looking for the one male who was going to stick out like a sore thumb. She finally spotted him out on the dance floor, sharing a slow dance with a lovely blonde in a very little, very tight black dress.

The woman sported a lacy mask with a colorful plume of feathers and sparkling beads. She was of no particular importance to Raya, however. The only person that mattered was the man the woman was currently coiling around like a viper. Raya felt a momentary irritation at the woman's clingy behavior; recognized it as her protective instinct rearing its ugly little head. Welp, time ta go and untangle the man from his vine, she thought with a sigh. She stepped away from the railing and began moving to intercept the mysterious and rakish Wayne patriarch before he could disappear on her. Before she could reach the stairs a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

"Didn't Bruce forbid you from attending this affair?"

Raya spun and spotted Dick leaning nonchalantly against the railing opposite the one she'd been standing at. Secretly, she'd been hoping Dick would somehow manage to make it to the ball, but had held out no hopes that he would. Seeing he was there left her more than a trifle surprised. Surprised, but ridiculously pleased nonetheless. That he was there, and in costume at that, suggested some trickery was afoot, however. Dick's coarse brown cloak, sand colored tunic and loose fitting pants acceded to Damian's chosen Jedi theme. Yet, it was how he'd been hand-selected to play Obi-Wan Kenobi (a consummate hero in the Star Wars saga, she hadn't failed to notice that) that told her, in no uncertain terms, that a sneaky little bird was the mastermind behind Dick's attendance.

"I thought you were stuck going to the JLA meeting while Bruce remained here in Gotham?" she asked in a slightly breathy voice.

"I was supposed to attend the JLA meeting."

He pushed away from the railing and strolled towards her. His every move was fluid as water. Dick owned a natural grace, one which well suited his high-flying and athletic crime fighting style. Her stomach quivered with that familiar burst of desire as she watched him, her every sense screaming to life and pulsing with a familiar need that was getting harder to ignore.

"But?" she managed to ask in a neutral voice.

"But then I received a phone call warning me about how you were planning on attending this fundraiser even though Bruce outright forbid you from attending it."

She made a face. "Damian?" she guessed.

"Uh-huh."

"I shoulda guessed he'd call you once it became obvious Jason was not going to attend the gala as he'd promised."

As he'd promised his little brother he'd do when Damian asked him to attend. Raya breathed in a deep breath, held it for a moment and slowly released it in order to quell the anger Jason's immaturity and selfishness had bubbling and boiling in the pit of her belly. She knew the older hero was taking his anger at her out upon Damian. Not that Damian had reacted to his brother's slight, of course. No, Damian had, in his typically pugnacious fashion, responded to Jason's insult by calling his big brother home. If Jason's hurtful tactic was not bothering her, she'd have been proud of the boy for his subtle jab.

The simple fact was that Jason's actions did bother her.

Even Roy had told him he was being a "selfish ass" by refusing to attend the Ball. Yet none of it had prompted the jerk to fulfill his promise to his little brother. To my baby bird. She tried to hide her bitter contempt by moving back to the railing and peering down at the couples whirling on the makeshift dance floor. She should have known she wasn't about to get away with hiding her anger, or her hurt. Not from him. Dick Grayson knew how to read every thought and emotion that flickered across her alabaster face. For that reason, she wasn't surprised when his hands settled upon her shoulders, warm and comforting.

"Give Jason some time," he suggested in a low tone. "He'll..."

"No," she said without looking at him. "Dick, he is hurting Damian with his act of selfishness. And I will not tolerate that." She turned stormy eyes up to his. "I won't easily forgive him for breaking a promise to our baby bird."

His sigh stirred the curls that were pinned loosely on top of her head. "I'm surprised he agreed to attend this fundraiser in the first place," he said with a crooked smile. "He never liked social functions, and tended to avoid them as much as he could."

"Damian asked him to attend the Masque all the way back in May," she said with just a hint of bitterness in her voice. "And Jason agreed because he could see just how damned important it was to Damian that he attend."

"That was before Crane made it obvious that his intentions are about you as much as they are about Inceptive."

"I know it's partially my fault for why Jason isn't here," she said softly. "I know that the horrible mess that was supposed to be a relationship has spilled over to affect the rest of the family. That's why I decided to defy Bruce and attend this masque. I felt horrible about this threatening to spoil Damian's favorite holiday."

He ran a hand over the cap of her hair. "Damian woulda been thrilled if you'd have offered to stay up watching scary movies and scarfing junk food with him."

"Dick," she said, angling her head to look at him. "Our baby bird looks forward to Halloween more than he does Christmas. This is his favorite holiday. And he put a lot of thought into our costumes."

"And if I may say so..." Dick said with an over exaggerated amount of cheer in his voice. "Damian picked an absolutely fabulous costume for you to wear."

"That's because you're thinking about the room in which a nightgown and robe are typically worn, buzzard brain," she drawled.

"Oh, c'mon, Rae, like you aren't?" He heard her snort a laugh and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Admit it, you're saying it because you're thinking about it, too."

"I most certainly am not."

He slid his arms arms around her waist, drew her back against his body. She relaxed against him, releasing a tiny sigh of contentment. He smiled into the curls at her right left temple. Then he teased her, "C'mon, tell me you aren't thinking about the room where a nightgown and robe are commonly worn."

"I'm not thinking about it in the same way that you're hoping I am thinking about it," she retorted primly. It was a lie, however. She was thinking about it. She was thinking about what it'd be like to have him undress her, lay her back upon the bed, cover her body with his... she quickly pushed the rest of her heated thoughts to the back of her mind and prayed her face wasn't as hot as it felt. "Do try and control yourself, Dick."

"C'mon, admit it," he cajoled. "You're thinking about you, me and that great big..."

"I'm thinking," she interjected before he could finish that particular statement. "That you desperately need to go and take a dip in Gotham Harbor. Your lightsaber is about to melt with how heated you're getting."

"Is that a Freudian metaphor there, Rae?" he asked wryly.

She grinned at him; said, "Sometimes a lightsaber is just a lightsaber, Dick."

"You do realize that since I am your Jedi protector that you're supposed to fall madly in love with me, right?"

Her lips curved, warm with affection. "You have always been my Knight in shining armor, Dick. And I've always loved you."

"You mean Knight in green pixie boots and ridiculously short green shorts, right?"

"I loved those pixie boots and ridiculously short green shorts that you used to wear."

Interest peaked, he glanced at her; asked, "Oh, yea?"

"Oh, yes," she said, nodding. "In fact, I had a number of very erotic dreams about you in those ridiculously short green shorts."

"Oh, really?" More than intrigued now, Dick angled his head to look at her. "Care to share a few of those erotic dreams with me?"

She laughed, a low and throaty sound that caused Dick's blood to boil. "Absolutely not."

"Aw." He pouted. "Why not?"

"Because you've already got more than enough stuff running through that mind of yours."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Care to imagine what I was thinking about when I suggested you wear the gold bikini?"

"Oh, I can imagine what you were thinking when you suggested I wear that gold bikini." But he'd surprised a laugh out of her at last. That had been the point of his flirtatious banter. And just like it always did, it worked. Feeling more relaxed than she had all that month; she leaned up and kissed him on the mouth.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

She turned to circle his neck with her arms. "For just being you."

He tugged on one dark curl and playfully said, "And all I'm getting for being an amazingly supportive friend and all around great guy is a paltry peck on the lips?" He sighed dramatically. "C'mon now, Rae. You can so totally do better than some Granny kiss."

"Don't think so, bird boy." She gave him an impish smile. "Besides, imagining that kiss gives ya something to think about when you're sleeping alone later."

He snorted. "Oh, well, now we both know that that's crap."

"Is not."

"Is so." He grinned down into her upturned face. "We both know that you can't sleep unless I'm there to chase the monsters away."

She rolled her eyes with a harrumph; said, "how about taking me for a turn on the dance floor, Knight Grayson?"

He smiled; tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. "It would be my pleasure, m'lady."

They walked down the stairs and joined the other couples taking a turn on the dance floor.

As he circled her waist and guided her into a slow turn around the floor, Raya found herself thinking back to her first Christmas Eve at Wayne Manor, to the wonder and the magic of that night, to the simple joy and contentment she'd felt as she'd danced in his arms for the very first time. To the feeling of falling in love for the very first time. Even all these years later she still felt the same way that she'd felt back then. She was Princess Aurora and he was her Prince Phillip. She was also aware of how she might have missed out on this were it not for the blatant manipulation of her little fairy Robin: Damian. She made a silent promise to bake her little birdie peanut butter cookies every weekend for the next year as payment for his subtle interference.

They were so caught up in each other that they were oblivious to the man slithering his way through the whirling couples towards them, limpid eyes gleaming from behind his black domino as he took in the darkly exotic woman dancing with her equally striking partner. His thin lips curled into a slow, appreciative smile.

She thought she'd outsmarted him by conveniently leaving her datebook where Nichols could find it. She'd thought she'd outmaneuvered him by picking a costume other than the one he'd been told she'd be wearing (and this one better suits her anyway, was his thought). He knew his beloved much better than that. He'd suspected she'd try a bit of chicanery in order to impress him. It was, he knew, her way of making their courtship an even more interesting affair than it was already.

"Excuse me?" he asked in a slippery purr that brought the couple immediately to a halt. "But, do you mind if I cut in?"

In a small antechamber that was high up in Gotham Cathedral, the Ace of Knaves sat brooding in a chair, his verdant eyes luminous in the deep gloom enveloping him in its arms. He steepled his fingers in front of him and gazed moodily out at the city that was so quiet and still below. That Gotham was not engulfed in a glorious sea of unending pandemonium annoyed him almost as much as his dear Knights paying no attention to him. Of the two, his Dark Knight not paying attention to him was the one currently vexing him the most. His teeth clenched and his lips twisted into a wordless snarl. How dare his King ignore him like this!

It had been months since their last play date. Months! Granted, he'd needed a little time in order to heal from their last game, but he was perfectly ready to play now. Yet, his every attempt to set up a time for them to play together had either been rudely ignored or outright rejected. I mean really! the Joker fumed silently. How could the big man turn down a chance to play with me? Me!? His very bestest friend in the whole wide world!

Why, it was positively unthinkable! Criminal even!

And just why was the Bats not giving him the attention that he so required? Why was his Knight sending that little jokester of his to play with him? It was because the Scarecrow was making a play for the first Boy Blunder's main squeeze. The Fenix, he snarled silently. The dark haired lovely was becoming quite the pain in his side. She'd not only prevented him from creating his masterpiece twice now, but now she was keeping his Bats from giving him the attention he craved.

He slammed his fists on the arms of his chair in a fit of pure rage and jealousy. Nobody else was allowed to have his Knight's undivided attention! Nobody else was allowed to play with his favorite playmate! Nobody else was allowed to torment this city!

Not without there being hell to pay for it, he fumed.

How dare Crane try to steal his toys from him! How dare the doctor take over his job of turning this city into a burning cesspool. He was the Clown Prince of Crime! He was Gotham's only agent of chaos. Only his hands were supposed to manipulate both the strings of this city and the attention of its silent guardian. He was their Emperor of Anarchy! Hadn't he proven that after the masterful plan he concocted just a few short months ago? Sure, Arkham Asylum was now a wasteland because the Bats had spoiled his fun... but that was beside the point! He was the puppet master who'd nearly unleashed a whole new strain of monster upon this festering hellhole. He was the one who'd unleashed the animals from their cages! He was the one who almost brought old Batsy to his knees!

But now Jonathan Crane was rising up to claim his throne.

He could not allow that to happen.

Oh, no, he really could not allow someone else to become the big man's new BFF.

It was time to remind this city, and his Knight about who really was in charge here.

His eyes glinted in the swirling shadows, and his mangled lips formed a smile for the first time in a week.

Oh, yes, it was time for the games to begin.

And he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait.

His high, keening laugh echoed out of the church, shattering the stillness of the night, and scaring the bats from the belfry.