Did Tim feel guilty? Yes. Telling her his identity as a sign of trust didn't really have the same meaning when your identity is a fake one anyway. He introduced himself as Gabriel, bartender and parttime vigilante. His parents had died at an early age due to gang violence and he wanted to rid the city of crime because of it. Nope, he had never met any other superheroes, Batman was just as mysterious to him as he was to her. Superman? Of course not. He was but a smalltime vigilante, he had never even been to America.

She ate up what he told her, and he had to remind himself that there was a good reason he didn't just go around telling everyone he got to know who he really was. She trained well, learned quickly and eagerly, and he genuinely enjoyed teaching her, enjoyed seeing her grow into a strong fighter.

He had been training her for a few months when he asked her who she wanted to be.

"Who?"

"Yeah. Who do you want to be when you get out there and actually start fighting crime? I chose Red X. Have you thought about it?"

"Oh... Yeah, I kind of have. I thought maybe something similar to yours could work. Like Black X, or just X, or... I don't know, something with X in it."

He nodded and offered her a smile. "How about X-girl?"

She made a face at him and he laughed, ruffling her hair to let her know he was only teasing. "Or Lower Case X, that works too." That made her swipe at him, and he let her hit his arm good naturedly.

"What about... something with Red in it instead of X? Like just Red, maybe."

Tim nodded, approving. "Red sounds good. Red X and Red, has a nice ring to it."

She grinned at him and he grinned back before sending her off to do her bo staff practice.

Their first patrol was so imperfect it was perfect. He watched her make so many of the same rookie mistakes he had made, and there was that one time she took forever to shoot her grapple and he nearly had a heart attack because he thought it had jammed or something, but she was just enjoying the free fall. He had her back, took out the people that she wasn't keeping an eye on like she should have been, snagged the back of her suit when she got a bit too close to the edge of a building and yanked her back. He ruffled her shock of black hair and let her take the spotlight when they dropped in on some bad guys. He thought that this must be what a parent felt like when they watched their baby walk for the first time, or dropped them off at the first day of kindergarten. At the end of it all, he told her he was proud of her, and she fluffed up with pride like a cockatiel.

After that, the criminal world of Fortaleza knew to watch out for both of them.

"My crew got taken down by the Reds last night."

"Don't go after Red, X is always close behind her."

"Do you think she's his kid?"

"Figures. This always happens with them vigilante types. One pops up and then they start multiplying. We're gonna be the next Gotham, wait and see."

It wasn't long before Red started earning a reputation of her own, outside the shadows of Red X's. She was the cheery one, the one who went soft on you. The one who laughed as she swung above you, the one who hugged the scared kids until they quieted down, the one who could get a chuckle out of Red X. The one who always asked, "Why are you doing this?" before attacking. But if you answered wrong, she could kick your ass, that was for damn sure.

And Red X, the original, well he just loved her to death, didn't he? Sometimes he would just sit at the edge of a building and watch her take out a group, calling out encouragements, compliments, and critiques on her form, the distortion caused by his mask making his voice mechanical and high pitched. He would lurk behind her as she interrogated people, giving her tips on how to be scarier. They had a fantastic good cop, bad cop routine.

Suffice it to say, they were successful. The criminal world feared them, they did good work, and still remained fairly discreet among the everyday people. Nobody had even gotten a grainy picture of them.

He stood on a tall building in the early night and watched Adriana out of the corner of his eye. She stood proud, her short, red cape blowing behind her, one booted foot resting on the rise on the edge of the roof. She turned to look at him, smiling, eyes probably crinkling under the black domino that took up nearly half her face. He ruffled her hair, then took off into the night, knowing she would follow. This was probably the happiest he had been in years. Having someone with him, to watch out for, to share his less mild-mannered alter ego with. It felt good.

"I'll see you later, Gabe," she called over her shoulder as she made her way out of his basement and up the stairs, slumping withe exhaustion from another night of crimefighting.

"Yup. Remember, don't come over tomorrow, you're getting the night off," he answered.

That made her pause. She turned, halfway up the stairs, and stared at him. "What? Why?"

He turned to give her a look. "You have school the next day. You need sleep."

She blinked at him with wide eyes, and he knew she thought he had forgotten. He thought back to nights like this with Bruce, how Tim hated being kept away from his vigilante duties but was forced to get a good nights sleep anyway.

"But- but I can't just ditch my Red gig for something like," she scrunched her nose up, "school."

"Yes you can, and you will. School is important, trust me. Just go. I've worked on my own before, I'm sure I'll manage without you."

"But-" she started again, but he just shot her a look that always seemed to get her to quiet down, and she sighed and looked away. "Fine."

He nodded and said, "Goodnight, Adriana."

"'Night," came her disappointed reply.

After her footsteps retreated and he heard the door to his house slam shut, he sat down at this workdesk and began cleaning his weapons. A shuriken, black and gleaming, that had a few flecks of blood on it. He wiped it down, polishing it until he could see himself in it. Setting it aside, he started on one of Adriana's shuriken, which had red highlights when you held it up to the light. The cloth rubbed over the sharp edges, and Tim stared down at it, thinking about how she had accidentally hit it against an alley wall, blunting the point.

He had done that a few times, he remembered, back when he was Robin. A slight twist of his wrist in the wrong direction and the shuriken had flown off course, barely grazing Two Face's ear and hitting the wall behind him. He had dove at him, seeing the opening he had left. Dick had made up for it, getting Two Face with a perfectly aimed batarang, and Tim had felt horribly embarassed at his mistake. But Dick had just laughed and ruffled his hair, telling him that he had done the same exact thing a million times.

Tim remembered the weight of his hand on his head, the comfort it had brought. The feeling that even if he messed up, someone had his back. He remembered how Dick had told Bruce that Tim had done well that night, not mentioning the little mishap, and Bruce had nodded approvingly at Tim.

Tim remembered how Kon asked him one time how he never missed with the shuriken, and Tim had smiled and said, "I missed so many times when I started out that luck is just paying me back now." And Kon had snorted, amused.

He remembered having a throwing competition with Steph and soundly beating her, and she had been pissed about it for days even though he hadn't even gloated. He remembered giving Cass a really nice set of them for Christmas one year. He remembered Jason starting to throw a few at him, before realizing who he was and saying, "Jesus, Replacement, warn a guy."

He remembered how he fell asleep polishing them one night, and had woken up to a blanket draped around his shoulders, surely Alfred's doing. He remembered the warmth at the thought, the feeling of having someone looking out for him. He remembered feeling safe.

Tim snapped back to reality with a start, realizing that he was gripping the shuriken with his fingers and blood was dripping from them and onto the table.

"Shit," he muttered, and grabbed a cloth to stem the bleeding, dropping the weapon on the table.

He sighed and looked at it, thinking that he would have to clean it all over again. He looked back to his hands, trying to stop them from trembling, and took a shaky breath.

He couldn't... he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't stand being alone like this. He had Adriana, but it wasn't the same as having his family. His brothers, his sister, Bruce, Steph, Babs, Alfred. God, he missed Alfred's hot chocolate, how the butler always seemed to know when Tim needed a mug of it and someone to talk to. He missed Oracle's voice over his comm, how he never felt alone with her in his ear. He missed Steph's laughter as they soared through the air. He missed Kon's smile when Tim said something funny. He missed the spats with Jason and Damian, he missed Cass's silent communication, he even missed Bruce's silent lack of communication. He missed Dick's hand on his shoulder.

Tim put his head on the worktable, not caring that he was getting his own blood in his hair, not caring that his tears were falling down to mingle with the blood.

"I miss you," he whispered, choking on his own breath, and gripped the cloth painfully against his hand. "I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you..."