Part Four

The road trip continued, they never went over the speed limit, they changed license plates every two states or so and they kept as low a profile as was possible. Somewhere in the middle of the country they stopped at a Wal-mart for a few things; clean clothes, tape for Dick's ribs, some snacks, disposable (and untraceable) cell phones, some CD's for the car and a few magazines and crossword puzzle books to pass the time. They ate at fast food places, they slept (when they slept) in Comfort Inns and Holiday Inns. 'Wing always paid from a large roll of bills he kept with him. He used computers at public libraries and checked newspapers and websites for anything which might pertain to anything.

"Y'know, 'Wing is not exactly low-profile. Is there something else you answer to?"

She had a good point. "Robbie too obvious?"

"Yuh."

"John."

"John? As in 'Doe'?"

"Okay, how about Phineas?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, call me 'Finn'."

"Dare I ask why?"

"Phineas Taylor Barnum—as in 'my life is a circus'."

She gave him an indecipherable look. "Whatever, Finn."

The APB was kept on the down-low. No police departments were notified, the FBI, CIA and Interpol were unaware of any problem. This was being dealt with internally with both the JL and the Titans on the case of finding and bringing in a rogue Nightwing, preferably unharmed. It was not, however, a unanimous decision.

"I think it's bullshit; Dick wouldn't flip out, turn to the dark side or do anything off the straight and narrow. It's just not him, no way, no how."

Donna agreed, though is less graphic terms. "He's the heart and center of what we do, it's just impossible and I refuse to believe it about him. Something else is going on."

"Then how do you explain those films?" Garth was upon the surface for a few weeks and felt like he'd walked into a swarm of Men O'War. Of course he didn't really believe Dick would do anything like he'd been accused of but they were supposed to be trained professionals and go by evidence, not emotional responses.

Roy shook his head, he couldn't explain them. "Until we know otherwise—and I'm not just talking about the fact that this is Dick and out of character—we need to do our jobs and try to bring him in."

"Yeah, but maybe the fact that this is Dick is reason enough to question this whole thing."

The original Titans, the ones who had known Dick Grayson for a decade, silently agreed but knew they had to find out what was really going on before they could sign off and get back to their lives.

Pulling into the small mom and pop rental cabin park on a two lane blacktop secondary road, Patty ("Okay, fine, call me 'Heather'") watched Finn sign the register, both of them wearing the cheap wedding rings he'd picked up at a Sears about two hundred miles ago.

"It's better cover if people think we're married; it's a change up from just looking for a single/white/male."

She nodded, he was right. Strategy-wise it made sense.

She'd used the disposable cell phone to call her doctor bosses and her family to let them know she was taking a week or so off to get over a breakup with a boyfriend and they weren't to worry about her. She was fine and just taking some personal time for herself.

She was still asking herself why she'd agreed to go along with this whole thing. It was dangerous, that was plain and she didn't really know why they were being chased or by whom though she had her (accurate) suspicions. Patty wasn't a stupid woman; she was self-aware and introspective enough to delve into the whys of her playing along.

For starters, it was exciting, something unexpected and once in a life time of for someone who had lived her live by the rules. She was flattered by the attention of this incredibly beautiful, intelligent and accomplished—let along famous—man. It was a spark of incredible in her run of the mill day to day. And, she reluctantly admitted, it was romantic in a Harlequin romance kind of way. The two of them, against all odds, running free, dodging the forces out to stop them.

It was fantasy in a world or reality and, in her heart of hearts, she didn't really think anything bad, like them getting killed, would happen. It was the ultimate game of tag or cops and robbers, cloak and dagger, hide and seek.

It wouldn't last all that long but while it did, it was turning into a helluva ride. Besides all of that, and probably most importantly, she believed him, that he was innocent of whatever he was being accused or chased for.

He was decent, that was apparent and she simply didn't think he could be guilt of whatever he was running from. It made more sense to her that he was hiding from some criminals he'd had a run-in with., though why Nightwing would need to hide was beyond her. Something wasn't adding up but she couldn't accept that he was the bad guy here.

Maybe she was being naïve or stupid, but there it was. If the time came for her to pay the piper, the piper would be paid.

Settled into the small cabin nestled against the woods, 'Wing—Finn—tossed his wallet on the bed, stripping off his shirt. "I'm going to take a shower and then we can get something to eat, 'okay with you?" The wallet was filled with fake ID, a fake driver's license (several, with several different names), fake credit cards, fake social security card, fake medical insurance. She neither knew nor cared where he'd gotten them.

"'Sounds good."

And that was the other thing; he was nice. He hadn't made a pass at her, hadn't done or said anything a gentleman wouldn't—aside from the whole taking her across the country thing, though that had been with her cooperation. She could leave whenever she wanted, she believed that, even though she had some serious doubts. If this was as dire as he made it out to be, he might not have been kidding when he said she could know but then he'd have to kill her.

The phrase 'Stockholm Syndrome' went through her mind more than once.

A few minutes later he was clean, changed and they were in search of a diner.

He continued to read newspapers and check the library computer for any mention of anything which would indicate he was being followed (though he knew he was). He never found anything.

At one point he considered contacting Babs to see what was happening but stopped himself as soon as the thought entered his mind. If she was on his side and knew anything she'd be compromised by talking to or helping him. If she wasn't supporting him he'd be giving too much away by contacting her. The same went for his friends in the Titans and the Outsiders; forget it, forget them.

But Jesus, he hated this living on the lam crap. Patty was okay but enough was enough. It was a matter of time before one of them slipped or the rest of the heroes got lucky and then the game would be well and truly over.

"It is absolutely beyond me how the greatest collective heroes on the damn planet can have so much trouble finding one person."

"Lighten up, Bruce. This isn't just anyone, this is Nightwing we're talking about here. It's not like he's going to make stupid mistakes or take out an ad in the Times announcing his plans."

"Has anyone made a connection to Dick being MIA and the report of that girl going AWOL about the same time from the same block?"

"It's been checked; she called her boss and some family members; she's fine, just decided to take some time off."

"How do we know she wasn't saying that under duress?"

"We don't but her family had no reason to be suspicious and have a number to call her, which they've done without problem,. Same with her employers."

So much for that.

Green Lantern looked up from the laptop he was working on. "Do we have any reason to think he's still in the US?"

"We have no reason to think he either is or isn't anywhere. I'm assuming that the airlines, shipping and border crossing have all been checked?"

Oliver answered. "Of course and the checks are ongoing but nothing has come through positive. We're dealing with not just Dick Grayson, we're dealing with Nightwing; he's as good as it gets and we all know that. He could well skunk us trying to find him."

"That's unacceptable."

"Maybe, but it's reality, Bats."

"Yeah, well I still have doubts about this whole thing—too out of character, if you ask me."

"I didn't."

They were getting close to Idaho. "What are we going to do when we get there?"

"Get jobs, blend in, keep a low profile and then probably move on."

"Any thoughts about what jobs? Are we talking Dollar Store or CEO of the local bank?"

"I was think maybe something snow related; you ski, right?"

Patty rolled her eyes, "'Can't say that I do, but I can hyper-extend my left thumb, 'think that will help?"

He gave her a look. "Wait tables?"

"I can do that." They were getting into mountain country, Patty was loving the scenery. "I think I should have a new name, too."

"You don't like Heather?"

"'Sucks. Mata Hari?"

"Very funny."

"Tammy. I've always liked that song."

They rolled into Donnelly the next day. It was late November, the start of early ski season and Tamarack Ski Corp* was hiring. Dick—Finn—was taken on as an instructor for the kids program after showing enough of his ability to get a job but not enough to draw any real attention or to do more damage to his healing ribs. Patty—now Tammy—was hired at a high end pizza place catering to tourists. Their story was that they were newlyweds looking for adventure and maybe a place to settle down. They found a small apartment which Dick paid for from his stash and which they furnished—barely—from the local Goodwill and Craig's List. No one questioned them.

Two weeks had passed since the initial attack on Nightwing, Dick/Finn was largely healed from his injuries though his ribs were still sore and bruised. He and Patty/Tammy were doing well with their new jobs, making friends and having a surprisingly good time.

Simply because of the time they spent together, coupled with the shared secrets, they'd formed a bond and were becoming genuine friends. It wasn't romantic, but it was a connection they both enjoyed.

"So how come you've never tried to jump me?" She'd just gotten off work, had brought back a pizza and they were sitting at the scarred 50's table.

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't know—maybe. Or not. I think it would be weird at this point. You know what they say about sex screwing up a good friendship."

"So I've heard."

"'You believe that? Do you have any women who are just friends, no sex?" Was her serious? Sometimes it was hard to tell but he didn't sound like he was joking.

"Sure, of course. Why, don't you have any platonic male friends?"

"Of course I do." She contemplated her slice. "It's too late for us to have sex, maybe a week or so ago, but now it's too late. We've gone past it."

"Okay."

"Okay? You're okay with that?"

"Pretty much. 'You?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good."

She nodded, they didn't need the complication.

Their new life was about to blow up.

The next morning around ten Dick was on the slopes with a class of intermediate level housewives, trying to show them some tricks to help them control their slalom moves.

"Grayson, Dude? What the hell are you doing here? 'Bruce around?"

Wha? "Excuse me?

"I thought you were back east doing the cop thing. What, you got kicked out already?"

Shitshitshit, Joey Whiting had been maybe two years behind him back in high school. "Sorry man, I think you've mistaken me for someone else; my name is Finn Mackey, I was born and raised in Wyoming, 'never been east of Denver."

"You sure as hell look like him, Buddy." A closer look gave lie to that idea; Grayson wouldn't be caught dead wearing that cheap-ass parka or Wal-mart jeans on a slope. Now that he really checked, one of the fingers on his right glove was splitting at the seam. Grayson wore top of the line; this guy could have been a brother, though

With better things to do, Joey finished his run then headed back to the lift, any thoughts of Dick Grayson gone.

*In the real world Tamarck Resort/Ski Area is suffering serious financial problems, lawsuits, possible foreclosure and bankrupcy. They are attempting to reopen but for our purposes, let's pretend that they're as right as rain, solvent, fat and happy.

TBC