A/N- I'm back! Sorry for the delay guys. I know it's been a little while, and I apologize. Even during summer, my life is hectic- I have a full time job and a class I'm taking at the local college. Not to mention it's summer and I like to get outside and have some fun! Just saying. There's a reason a update schedule totally wouldn't work for me.

Also, sorry if this chapter is a little more slower. It's a filler chapter, but it's a necessary evil. I don't know if I like it or not, honestly. So, opinions are great.

I want to thank Cindar, dlsky, and the 2 Guests that reviewed last time. You guys rock!


Chapter 4

"Give me an update."

Gibb's stern words were spoken aloud and the command seemed to bounce uncomfortably off the spotty stone walls around their heads. Tony saw Tim wince faintly out of the corner of his eye, and for once, he couldn't blame the guy in the slightest. The few words out of Gibbs mouth had been the first syllables spoken in hours; they had all been hunched over their respective computers, researching and getting up to speed on their case and Gibbs had literally just walked in, from doing who knows what. All of this would have been much easier if they were back in the comforts of their own bullpen, had their own computers, their own big screens, and their own desks. Oh, what Tony wouldn't give for his comfy desk chair right about now, instead of one that seemed to be working his back into cinched knots. God, when did he start to get so old?

"I have quite a bit on Nightwing," Ziva started off, head looking up from her workspace at the long table, where she was surrounded by a laptop and scattered newspapers. "Reports indicate he's been in town anywhere from ten months to a year, based on his known activity. He started out leaving street thugs and petty criminals for the police—"

"Wait," Tony intoned. "Leaving? Define leaving."

"Apparently," Ziva referenced her papers in front of her, "handcuffed and not too worse for wear. In some cases, like house fires and injuries, a 911 call will be made and a deep voice will request assistance. He'd always be gone by the time ambulances and fire trucks arrived, however."

"Are we talking a Keith David deep or a James Earl Jones deep", Tony asked. Ziva gave him a quizzical look and continued.

"He's since moved up to targeting higher on the criminal ladder. There were two fairly large drug busts that didn't just involve catching the merchandise, but also a sizeable portion of the cartel itself that had been avoiding the police's reach, including the bosses involved. He even left evidence so that several ended up being successfully tried and sentenced."

"What a considerate masked hoodlum," Tim said, a caustic edge to his voice.

Tony whipped his head around, his eyes wide as saucers. He couldn't believe what he was hearing McGee say. "You shut your mouth right now, McJudgy. You are literally bashing on one of the coolest people slash potential aliens on our planet, which is seriously damaging any and all street cred you may have accumulated. This guy jumps from rooftops, busts drug cartels, and saves people nightly. How in the world can you have a problem with him?"

Tim delivered a patronizing glare, but it just made Tony want to chuckle under his breath. After Gibbs, no one could scare him. "It's easy Tony. He breaks the law. There are rules and regulations against almost every single thing this guy is doing, and he doesn't care! He pretends to apprehend criminals and deliver justice, but that's what the police are for, and he's just not willing to admit it. He's not special, strong, or heroic, he's a criminal, just like the guys he's catching out on the streets. You only like him because he's practically a character out of one of your movies. " Cue McGee smug arm cross.

"Are you kidding? Of course that's why I love this guy! He's like Arnold in Predator or Terminator, Mel Gibson in Braveheart, Harrison Ford in Star Wars, Stallone as Rambo…He's the stuff of movies, and I don't see why that's such a bad thing! He's helping the police, not hurting them. He catches the nutballs that slip through the cracks, and he does a damn good job of it too. I bet the police are even glad he's here."

"Well," Ziva interceded, "officially there's a warrant out for Nightwing's arrest for trespassing, obstruction of justice, and the like—"

"Told you!"

"—shut up McGee. The police have maintained their official position on the matter, but it's pretty clear that what he's doing is helping the area. Crime is down nine percent, and that's in one year with him. You heard Lieutenant Singer – those actually dedicated to helping the city appreciate the assistance he's giving."

Tim raised his chin mulishly. "Since when have we started applauding the people who take the law into their own hands?"

"When they get the job done." Gibbs tone left no room for argument. "Is there any way to track him or get eyes on him?"

Ziva shuffled through her papers and looked back up at Gibbs. "As far as I can see, no. There are blogs following his activities, but most are of questionable origin and solid information is scarce. Several request being the mother of his children, which I do not understand…"

Gibbs's gaze was steely at best. "No pictures? No physical evidence?"

Ziva shook her head and turned the computer screen around for all to see. The three of them leaned in, and on a page labeled "Night Watch" they saw a series of dark, blurry shape flitting between buildings and in the shadows. It was clearly a person, but that was really all they had. "This is the best I could find. According to several eyewitness reports of people he's saved, he wears a full body black spandex suit and a mask."

"Well, at least he's human," Tim said grudgingly.

Ziva regarded him with a dubious expression on her face. "With our experience, can we really make that assumption McGee?" The team was silent for a moment as they thought of the implications behind this. Ziva was right – a humanoid figure did not a human make. Beings like Superman and M'gann were proof that they could always be dealing with something much more strange and sinister.

Gibbs gave Ziva a searching look. "What do you think?" Tony knew Gibbs about as well as anyone could, and he could read between the lines of what his boss was really asking, and why he was asking Ziva. He wanted her expert opinion as a former Mossad agent and assassin.

Ziva's dark eyes lingered for a long time on Gibbs, and her expression was inscrutable. She knew what Gibbs was asking just as well as Tony did. "He's professionally trained. He avoids cameras with a skill I have never seen before—it indicates he may very well know where all public cameras are. Obviously he's been in and out of many different locations, and yet he has never tripped motion sensors or set off any alarms, showing he has knowledge in escapology and stealth. As for the swinging from rooftops…It is reminiscent of someone we've met before, yes?"

"So…Batman in tights?" Tony shook his head at the thought. After meeting the stoic Justice League member just the once, he still couldn't shake the feeling that the Dark Knight was every bit the badass that everyone made him out to be…and more.

Gibbs was silent, and Tony could see the gears grinding away in the agent's head. He knew that Gibbs asking for intel on Nightwing was no random request. After years of working with the man, and seeing the fine-tuned machine that he was, Tony had no doubt that if Gibbs had a reason for doing something, it was always a damn good one. He was a needle that always pointed north, and if they followed his direction, they always got the bad guy.

"McGee, the BOLO?" Translation: it's useful information to have on this guy. There are more pressing matters at hand, but keep it in mind for later.

Tim's fingertips hovered over the keyboard. "In the system Boss, but no hits yet. Facial recognition hasn't caught anything on him either, but Fernandez and Nicholas were both seen near the corner of a gas station a block from where the shoot out occurred. They appear to be arguing in this shot too, but no sign of the blonde man."

Gibbs nodded and turned to Tony. "DiNozzo?"

"Called both the families. The number listed for Fernandez ended up being the landline to a Pizza Hut. I cross referenced all past and current employees with Fernandez and nothing came up, so I'm assuming he was the type of guy who has a deep, undying love for pizza and wings. Obviously he's not a man of great taste if Pizza Hut if his go to, I'm more a Papa John's man myself. There something about the sauce that's just so—" DiNozzo gave a little squeak as a Gibbs slap was delivered to the back of his head. Ow, that smarted. "Sorry boss. Couldn't find a line on Fernandez's family, but I did find an apartment address. Also called around for Nicholas, and got the answering machine on all numbers listed. But I have an address for him too."

"Alright. Gear up."


Gibbs' hands gripped his gun with iron clad resolution as DiNozzo approached the door. "NCIS, open up!" The shout rang out through the hallways and all was silent and still as they sat, tense as piano strings. They stared at the door and the door stared blankly back.

That's long enough, Gibbs thought. With a burst of strength, he drew back his body weight and kicked the door in with all his might. In an instant he was through the door and his eyes were everywhere, scanning the room for red numbers counting down, suspicious packages, blood, guns—the usual. Instead he was met with an unattractive apartment comprised mostly of filth. Wrappers and empty containers littered the kitchen counters, and clothes were scattered and dumped on the floor. The grey carpet had several questionable stains, and where there wasn't stains there was dust balls. Gibbs wrinkled his nose in distaste as he caught a whiff of garbage and decay. Disgusting.

Tony and Gibbs worked through the rest of the small apartment, seeing more of the same as they went. The only sound made was their shoes scuffing the carpet and "Clear!" that punctuated the still apartment. No one was home.

"You think someone got spooked and flew the coop Boss," Tony asked aloud as they regrouped in the living room and kitchen. Gibbs heard him, but his eyes were now doing a slow search of the place, scanning as carefully as a bomb dog.

It was a fair question, and one he was glad Tony had asked. "Maybe. In this mess it's hard to tell. Nothing to indicate a woman or partner, and nothing left unfinished."

Tony made a face at an open pizza box revealing a large thick crust in various stages of decomposition. "I'm not so sure about that Boss. Euch, it's like seeing the home of Dennis Nedry from Jurassic Park. Complete dumping ground." Gibbs didn't say anything. He was sure the reference meant something, but he let it slide as he did most of DiNozzo's allusions to the cinematic universe. It wasn't worth the time to ask him what he meant.

His eyes wandered to the living room, which was in just as bad a condition. There were paths worn among the random piles of crap, and Gibbs saw one led from the TV to the couch. The scratched wooden coffee table in front of the loveseat caught his eye, and it only took a brief moment to realize why—it was too clean. The entire apartment was a rat's nest, and yet there wasn't a single item on top of the coffee table. Definitely suspicious. Another smaller path led from the table to a small closet to the left of the TV.

Gibbs cautiously made his way through to the closet, taking care not to step in anything questionable. Which was actually pretty difficult, considering. The closet door creaked open to reveal…cases. Lots and lots of cases. Briefcases, suitcases, small and large purses. There were bags and luggage of every size, shape, color, and material, all stacked meticulously and with more care than the entire apartment combined. This Carlos clearly cared about.

He took out a leather briefcase, and opened it up slowly. Inside was meticulously arranged baggies of heroin, pristine and white in their orderly rows. Gibbs was no drug trafficking expert, but he knew this was china white heroin in its purest form, and that he was staring at hundreds of thousands of dollars in this case alone. All the cases together…millions, easily.

"Shit," Tony said over his shoulder. "I guess the drug cartels are still going strong after all."

"There's more in the closet."

Tony moved to get a clear view of the tiny room. "Oh my god…this could keep an entire city supplied."

Gibbs nodded. "This is bigger than a shooting over drugs. We're looking at something much more involved and organized."

"We have to be. You know the manpower you're looking at with the sheer quantity of these drugs? This operation has to be huge."


"McGee, stop complaining. You are alive, are you not?"

McGee's indignant huff was loud and exaggerated. "Yes, I'm alive, but that's not the point. We almost ran into three cars on the way up here, were practically on the sidewalk part of the way, and I think my forehead's swelling from you slamming on the brakes!" He was right – the skin right in the middle of his forehead was raised and angry. Ziva had to suppress a giggle at the sight.

"It is not that bad, just a teeny bump." There was an undercurrent of teasing in her voice, just enough to be playful with McGee. Poor, sensitive McGee.

"I think I'm getting a headache." Ziva turned from Tim massaging his forehead to view the sparse apartment around them. She did feel apologetic for injuring Tim while she was driving. One second she had the open road in front of her and the next, she was skidding to a halt so as to avoid a crash. Unlike McGee, she had enjoyed the adrenaline rush she felt when flying along the highway. It was something she was used to, and the feeling of danger and excitement wasn't something she could quite get out of her system. The euphoria was addicting.

Somehow she didn't quite think Sam Nicholas would agree with her passion for action. His apartment looked like a bunk of a military man—barebones, simple, and rigid. The bed corners were hospital style and the pencils on his desk were parallel and at a perfect 90 degree angle to the edge of the table.

The only signs of neglect were very, very recent. There was a small dust buildup on the bookshelves in the living room, and a jacket flung on the floor. On the coffee table were small forgotten piles of white, which Ziva knew without a doubt was heroin. She bagged and tagged anyway.

McGee slowly made his way to the kitchen, still rubbing his head, and stopped when he saw the answering machine. "Looks like he missed a few calls." Ziva looked up to where he indicated. He was right—the red flashing number showed 16 missed calls. A few was putting it lightly.

McGee pressed the large center button, and a loud beep filled the room, followed by a warm voice.

"Hey Sammy, just wanted to hear your voice. I know you're out of Pendleton by now and living up in Bludhaven. I know, I'm going to try and keep the judgement to a minimum. Call me back, kay? A mother needs to hear her son's voice. Love you."

Beep.

"Sammy! Hey, just wanted to say good morning. Louis says hi and that he misses you and your bear hugs, not that I can blame him. Love you, call me back."

Beep.

"Sammy, I'm so proud of you! George told me you have an interview at Vivint this morning, Call me back to tell me how it went!"

Beep.

"Hey Sammy! Call me back, I want to hear how your interview went!"

Beep.

"Sammy, George said you never showed up for the interview. Did something happen? Call me back."

Beep.

"Is everything okay? You're not responding to any of my messages. Please call me."

Beep.

"Sammy, I'm worried about you. Please just call me so I know nothing's happened to you! Please."

The messages ended, and Ziva and Tim exchanged looks. "These go back two weeks," Tim realized. "They're not marked as listened to. And look. No phone in the cradle." He was right.

Ziva looked around. "So what happened here? How did this Marine go missing, and somehow get involved with heroin? It doesn't really make sense- I thought Nightwing had taken some of the supply off the streets." After all, with several cartels out of the way, shouldn't Bludhaven be relatively dry of drugs?

"Ugh, not you too." Tim rolled his eyes.

"Me too what?" Ziva was only somewhat confused by his statement. What she really wanted was for him to elaborate.

McGee threw his arms up in agitation. "You've joined the Nightwing fan club! You don't even know the guy or what he really does, and yet you're more than willing to think he's some larger than life role model or something. How can you be sure of that? I mean, I thought you weren't really picking sides about him."

Ziva raised her eyebrows slightly. She knew Tim enough to know that this dislike of Nightwing was more than just nothing. "I am not choosing sides Tim. I am just looking at the facts. Nightwing has never shown himself to be acting out of any malicious intent—he has only done good things for good people, and stopped those with vicious motivations. I am not saying we should fully trust him, just that he has earned the benefit of the doubt, perhaps."

McGee made a face at that, and glared at the floor. Ziva continued.

"Why is this any different from Robin? If I recall correctly, you seemed to get along with him well. He was a masked vigilante who saved others, possibly outside the law. You approved of him."

When she mentioned Robin, she saw McGee's anger crack the slightest bit. Good. She finished, and he burst out, "Of course I approved of him! He was like…" He paused and the anger seemed to ebb away. "He was like me."

Ziva was intrigued. She knew McGee connected with Robin more than anyone out of the young superhero team, but she wasn't aware he had bonded quite so closely with the young teen. "How so?"

McGee's face reddened slightly, but he continued. "He was the tech guy in the team. Everyone looked to him and expected him to know everything technical and electronic, and he was really good. Like, better than me by a lot. But he got it. And he wasn't some larger than life superhero, you know?" At this he shuffled a little. "He didn't have superpowers or extra anything, he was just human. But he was practically leading Superboy and a martian and his whole team. He was awesome. "

Ziva looked at Tim in that moment—really looked. Suddenly McGee's adoration and praise and concern over the teen's disappearance made so much sense. McGee hadn't just been impressed with Robin's technical skills; no, it was much more than that. In Robin McGee had seen himself—the tech wizard, surrounded by those far more capable than himself, at least in his own mind. When Robin had taken control and led without fear, it gave McGee hope that that future could come true for him too. That he was capable of that same greatness.

Ziva smiled warmly at McGee. "I know you miss him—I do too. I think we'll see him again someday. And know that you're every bit as awesome as he is. If not more."


And…done. With a flourish of his wrist, Dick set down the pen and stared at the stack of papers he had just filled out. Within that administrative nightmare was his official statement of what happened on about twelve different forms, his official report for his booklet, evidence paperwork, sworn affidavits for the warrants, his squad car check and log sheet, and about a million more different sheets that all needed his attention right now. It would be the death of him.

Normally, in the case that they responded to a call going out, Amy would help him fill out the paperwork afterward and double check his work for any potential mistakes. It made him feel like he was eight again, but he was grateful nonetheless, especially now that he was doing all of this alone. He missed her already. Her gruff nature and take no shit attitude was something he was entirely comfortable around, due to years of Batman's surly disposition. He'd tried to get in to see her at the hospital but she had been in surgery. After that her family had been visiting and he really didn't want to intrude.

Now he had a great distraction to keep himself from worrying too much about her though. He'd been setting up some computer software on the front desks (and harmlessly flirting with the receptionists, it was true) when through the front door walked the last people he ever expected to see again. The NCIS team that ran out of Washington DC, out to investigate the Marine's death from the night before. The Marine that he had shot.

Batman had always told him that there were no such things as coincidences, whether it was to make him feel better or to explain a case. In this situation though, Dick didn't know what to believe. In all honesty, he had never expected to see these people again. He'd met them seven years ago, and he'd been Robin at the time, so there was no way they would recognize him or he could reintroduce himself. It was all he could to keep from laughing about the whole thing. Because honestly, it was downright hilarious. It was Artemis at Gotham Academy all over again, and Dick was in on the joke again.

Dick couldn't help but wonder what was different about the team now. After all, he had changed a lot over these past years. He could only imagine what the NCIS team had accomplished in that time. He was actually a little surprised (and somewhat relieved) to see the team was still intact and whole. Tim had slimmed down a little and looked more confident in himself, and was still a nerd through and through. Ziva had grown out her hair and was wearing something more akin to what a federal officer would wear, but Dick could still see her assessing and analyzing as the former Mossad agent that she was. Tony was still an X-rated Peter Pan, although his hair looked a tad thinner. And Gibbs, who had a little more silver hair, was still as quiet and Batman-like than Dick would ever expect a civilian to be.

He wasn't 100% sure how he felt about seeing them again. On one hand, he was overjoyed. He loved the thought of playing this elaborate prank on them right under their noses (not that they would ever hear the punchline). Every time he thought about the fact that the Robin they knew was right in front of them, he wanted to laugh out loud. And he was also happy to see people that he had had such a lasting impression of when they'd met.

On the other hand, now he knew them as so much more than just quirky agents of the federal government. After NCIS's case with Young Justice, Dick had gone straight to the Batcomputer and done indepth background research on everything there was to know about everyone on the team. He couldn't help it—they'd made him curious. When asked by Batman, he'd said it was a training exercise to see if he could break into the various databases needed. And it had been difficult. Ziva was an enigma of online anonymity, forcing Dick to hack into both the NCIS and Mossad databases. Eli David had kept her relatively off the books, so every piece of light he could shed on Ziva was valuable. What he had found was both sad and revealing. This applied also to Gibbs, who was a mystery until he read about the deaths of his wife and daughter. Given the tools, Gibbs could have easily turned into Batman—the similarities were certainly uncanny. Dick also read about Tim's father and career at MIT, laughing at the failed fencing class, which he was sure Tim was still beating himself up about to this day. Tony had lost his mother, been a Baltimore cop, and went to Ohio State. Dick had combed through doctors notes on file, old school records, towns lived in, credit cards, and social security. He knew most everything there was to know about these people, including things they'd probably told no one. And it was…odd. Dick felt he was on the outside of one-way glass looking in, able to see everything, while everyone else saw what was reflected back at them. He knew everything about them, and they knew nothing about him. He had to wonder if that was really fair.

Guess it didn't matter if it was fair—it was necessary.

Dick stood and started walking the hallways. Now all he was waiting for was the psych eval to go through and confirm that he was indeed ready for duty again. Yes, I shot someone. Yes, he died. No, I am not depressed. No, I'm fine. Whatever he needed to say.

Now that the team was here, he felt the pull of joining their case with them. After all, it was his to begin with. He really wanted to see this through.

His face split into a wide grin, and his steps lengthened as he set off.


TBC- I promise I won't wait so long to update next time! Pinky swear ;)

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