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She'd spent the majority of the couple weeks she'd been working on the computers going at odd hours, whenever she could and with the intent to avoid as many people as possible. In fact, other than that very first day, she hadn't really seen anyone else except for Damian.

Hey, she was trained by Batman. She knew how to be stealthy. Rickie should have known her luck wouldn't hold, especially with the little universal truth called Karma that had a tendency to come back and bite people in the ass.

Therefore, it was no surprise that after she zeta'd into the Cave for an hour or two of work after her police job, she'd been knocked flat on her back after someone punched her in the jaw.

"Oof!"

Rickie had a more surprised than hurt expression on her face as she looked up to see Raquel's face. The older woman huffed, scowling angrily at Rickie and immediately using the zeta to get away. Apparently, she'd run into Raquel a.k.a. Rocket just as she was leaving.

Still in her uniform, the look Rocket gave her spoke volumes about her thoughts. She didn't even need to tell Rickie a few choice curse words before leaving.

Dumbstruck, Rickie sat there for a few moments, her hand going to her jaw where she'd have a decent bruise, nothing a little makeup couldn't mask. That was the moment where she forfeited whatever hope she had of having a nice day, or even a nice week. She should've known.

Sighing, she hauled herself up off of the floor, her hand straying to her jaw. She grimaced.

It was midway through the week, and she felt like she was ready to drop dead. In fact, Rickie was quite certain that if she tripped over her own two feet and laid down on the ground, she wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Her police work was back to the normal routine of patrolling and paperwork among other duties, and her part time bartending job was doing fine. She'd even covered Aline's shift the last night. Except, criminals seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork, and quiet nights like these were rare.

Normal people, Rickie supposed, wouldn't be sitting on the edge of a Bludhaven rooftop at one in the morning. Sane people, she assumed, would also not be wearing a skin tight, dark grey Kevlar body armor suit with a bright blue bird across her chess.

It certainly wasn't something any young women her age would be doing at this time of night. But Rickie wasn't most people. She wasn't, and likely never will be. Besides, being Nightwing made her happy. She loves Bludhaven at this time of night, too.

The city was somewhere between awake and sleeping, the dull roar of the city noises softened. The lights shined like stars in the dark, few and far in between or clustered together. From her vantage point, a tall work building that was slightly isolated from and taller than the surrounding buildings, Nightwing could see pretty far.

She liked to think while sitting on the ledge, too, though she did her best to not think right now because of her pounding headache.

A ghost of a smile was on her face as she looked out. Most of the crooks were crawling back into their beds, others on their way to the police house. It was a quiet night tonight. These were her favorite nights; the nights she could go to sleep earlier and have fun doing her acrobatic antics on the rooftops.

Quickly, Nightwing rose. She brushed her long, black bangs away. Sometimes, they annoyed her. Rickie's bangs went off to the side by her left ear. She tucked a few black strands behind her ear, giving up when the wind picked up and blew her hair around.

It was things like these that made chopping all her hair off appealing.

It would certainly be easier to manage patrolling. She wouldn't have to put it in a ponytail. But she never bothered for many different reasons Rickie didn't want to think about. Her headache felt like it was getting worse. Work had been awful, but thankfully her bartending shift today had been okay.

Aline had come early and kicked her out from behind the bar counter after informing Rickie she looked like shit, ordering her to rest. Of course, Rickie didn't bother telling Aline she had patrolling to do as Nightwing, but she was grateful for the break all the same.

Running towards the edge of the roof, Nightwing jumped, nimbly flipping onto the next roof. A small grin appeared on her face as she raced back to the Nest, jumping and flipping and grappling. The cool, refreshing air stung her face, and she knew she had a wide grin on her face.

Breathing heavily, she landed on the rooftop of the warehouse above the Nest, looking around for a moment.

She froze and swore she saw a black suited figure staring at her, golden eyes gleaming in the dark. Uneasily, Nightwing looked around her, turning her gaze back on the figure as her hands went to her utility belt. She did a double take when she realized they were gone.

So that was how it felt . . .

Rickie shook her head. She was tired; she needed sleep. She'd been busier lately, ever since she'd agreed to that computer thing about two weeks back (finding time was difficult, since she had a life).

She'd had to find ways to make time even if that meant more hours doing paper work. It must be the paper work, Rickie told herself. After all, there were no other vigilantes who called Bludhaven their city, to her knowledge. She'd have to keep an eye out.

Trying and failing to dismiss the uneasy feeling, Rickie dropped into the warehouse via a broken window and a catwalk. For paranoia's sake, she took the inside entrance, checking to see if the coast was clear. Once she was inside the Nest, Rickie automatically breathed a sigh of relief.

She gladly changed out of her patrol uniform and into some civvies, a pair of grey sweatpants a black shirt that hung off her slight frame. She wasn't exactly the bulkiest and tallest superheroine around. She was an acrobat at heart.

Acrobats as a rule were not very large, or known for their size. Especially ones who flew on the trapeze, like her. Her mind was wandering in faded memories as Rickie took the stairs out of the Nest and into the alley way. Once out, she glanced around warily, the mysterious figure still in her mind.

Rickie hurried swiftly and silently up the fire escape, easily opening and going through the window. She locked in, looking outside before heading to her room. Utterly exhausted, Rickie fell onto her bed, not bothering to get under the covers. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Rickie woke up in the morning with a stuffy nose, and her headache was much, much worse. Every part of her seemed to ache, and she swore her joints and bones were creaking and groaning as she sat up. To sum it up, she felt like crap. Her mouth felt too dry, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

She scowled as she heard the sound of her alarm, and turned it off. Rickie got her phone and stared at the time on the screen for a while. Ten o'clock in the morning. Pretty late, for her. Something told her she should probably get up for work.

Right. Work. Archie. Chief Redhorn. Stupid crooks and corrupt cops. Her police job. Paper work.

For some reason, those thoughts weren't exactly encouraging her to get up.

Somehow, she managed to get out of bed and stumble into the hall way, almost running into Tim's door across from hers. Her movements were not in any way her normal, graceful movements as she stumbled down the hall way. Rickie flopped down on the couch, her hand going to her forehead and she squeezed her eyes.

She groaned, burying her face into one of the blankets that lay on the couch, snuggling into it until it was somehow wrapped around her. She turned so her back was to the TV and windows where light streamed in. Her eyes were shut, and she enjoyed a few moments peace.

Rickie found herself grateful Archie and her got to come in late today after taking earlier (and very late) shifts for the past couple days. Some conflicted with her bartending job, but her boss there understood. Hogan's Bar was a cop bar, after all.

She only worked part time there, too. Plus, her friends were usually (usually) nice enough to cover). Checking her phone, she made a disgruntled noise. Rickie shuddered as her head continued to pound. Thinking too much apparently hurt.

Through sheer will power, Rickie dragged herself off of the couch and got ready for working, half-asleep as she changed and walked out the door.

Walking in the Precinct, she felt like a zombie. Rickie shuffled forward, wearing her uniform which had a light black rain jacket over it, concealing it slightly. It looked like it was about to rain today, the grey clouds hanging low in the sky reflecting her oh-so-cheerful mood perfectly.

Archie Roarbach was waiting for her by the desk in the lobby, chatting with one of the receptionist in the lobby area. Sitting in chairs around the lobby sat people who were waiting to file complaints or accident reports with occasionally one of her fellow cops walking by going home, or going to work.

Archie looked okay, if a bit tired with dark circles under his eyes. He wore simple jeans and a light blue t-shirt with a grey jacket on. A duffel bag with BPD on the side in bright gold letters hung off his shoulders, big enough to contain civilian clothes or a cop uniform.

She frowned as she remembered she couldn't find her bag, being forced to wear her uniform to work (other bags could be used, for the sake of safety).

She always wondered about the bomb threat with those bags, but she supposed someone would incredibly stupid to bomb a police station. And she was fairly certain bomb dogs were around somewhere. Along with metal detectors. Maybe. She wasn't sure. Rickie honestly had trouble thinking straight right now, much less remember important details like that.

He greeted her with a concerned look, clearly noticing her exhausted, paler appearance, and passed over one of the coffee cups in his hands. She gave him a blank look, silently wondering why he was out here and not in his office.

Archie shrugged. He explained, "I figured you'd need some. I just got in, thought I'd stop and ask what reports came in last night."

Rickie made a noise of acknowledgement. She took the coffee, taking a sip of it and feeling it burn her throat slightly. It helped relieve her sore throat somehow, and she took another sip as she walked with Archie to their office.

She spoke, "You'd have better luck asking the guys on duty last night, not the receptionist."

He shrugged. "Chad's a good guy. He's more patient than the guys just getting off duty since he has to deal with people filing reports."

"Mm, yeah," Rickie agreed, never having really talked to Chad, but she agreed with Archie. If another cop bugged her for news as she was leaving the locker room after work, she knew she'd be ticked.

Speaking of the locker room, Rickie internally face-palmed as she remembered she still had clothes in there. The past couple of weeks (days? After getting injured and healing, things blurred with boredom) she'd worn her uniform to work. She sighed.

"You okay?" Archie asked, frowning at her once more. "You look like death warmed over."

She bit back a comment about the paper work slowly killing her.

"I'm fine," Rickie said instead. "Just adjusting after so much time off."

"Ah." He nodded, "How's your stomach? And your wrist?"

Rickie shrugged. "Healing. They're much better. I'm cleared for active duty."

"Good," Archie said.

The two of them lapsed into silence as they reached their office, and she thanked him for holding the door opening. Rickie took a seat at her desk, mentally dancing at the sight of no paperwork on her desk even if she didn't have the energy to dance in real life.

The two of them worked in silence, filling out reports mechanically. Rickie was positive she wouldn't remember half the stuff she was doing now later. Slight nauseas, she took a small break, and leaned her forehead against her desk.

Archie looked over from his own work, taking a break of his own.

He dryly said, "The glamorous side of police work."

Rickie hummed in agreement, part of her feeling like she was about to throw up.

"Hey, kid," Archie said, "You alright?"

"Yeah."

Archie looked at her critically. "Liar. I'm sending you home."

"What? No!" Rickie protested. "I've missed so much time lately. If I miss anymore, I'll get fired!"

Archie shook his head. "You've done the paper work for more than half the guys of the station to make up for lost time and more while on desk duty. He'd be stupid to fire you."

With that, Archie stood up, and Rickie reluctantly stood up and followed him.

"As your senior officer, I'll get you out," Archie said, "Just tell me you're taking a sick day, and I'll take it from there."

Having never taken a sick day as a police officer, Rickie immediately agreed.

"Yeah, okay. I'm taking a sick day," Rickie said as Archie left. She wandered a bit before managing to find the right hallway to the Women's Locker Rooms.

Walking in, Rickie went straight to her locker, opening it and changing into a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a grey sweater. Lazily, she took her hair out the police bun it was in, letting it hang loose. She shut the locker, slung her black rain jacket on, and left.

Somehow she managed to find her way out of the building, bumping into a few other officers who told her to get better, one of the nicer, more motherly police woman recommending a recipe for chicken soup. Outside, her feet padded against the pavement, and she found herself wondering what she could do on her sick day.

Her overwhelming exhaustion gave an easy solution to that, and Rickie walked to her apartment. She shut the door behind her quietly, looking around. It felt strange being back this early in her apartment. Or maybe that was because she felt a little light headed. She wasn't really sure.

Not really caring, Rickie slumped onto the couch. Feeling absolutely freezing, she wrapped a bundle of blankets around her. Eventually, she dozed off.

She woke up hours later, still in the clothes she fell asleep in but this time she felt like she was burning up. Suddenly being wrapped up in this many blankets was a terrible idea. She kicked them off, taking a moment to close her eyes and using her hand to cover her eyes as she lay on the couch, the other hand laying no her stomach.

Her skin felt cold and sweaty, and she still felt hot. Part of her felt completely weak and even more exhausted, like that feeling she usually had after her fever broke or she was finally improving. She miserable in the 'finally-getting-better' way.

But her thoughts were no longer muddled by the overwhelming urge to rest. The usual restless energy she got when sick was coiling inside her, begging to be released. She shuffled on the couch, sitting up. Rickie gripped the armrest tightly as the blood rushed to her head, but she needed to get up.

She needed to do something. The bad thing about living alone: there was no one to drive completely bonkers when she was sick and resting. She used to drive Jason and Tim crazy when she was recovering from being sick, not well enough to do anything but still well enough to want to do something.

With these thoughts in mind, Rickie made her way to her room, easily putting on different clothes (a pair of jeans and a long sleeved grey shirt) before grabbing her black rain coat. Making a split second decision, she went down the fire escape, pausing and glancing around in front of the zeta.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she shivered, goosebumps on her arms. She felt like she was being watched. Looking around warily once more, she fixed her hair, and slid on a pair of sunglasses she'd grabbed on her way out.

Sighing, she punched in the coordinates. A familiar flash of light, then,

RECOGNIZED: NIGHTWING B-01

She tensed, part of her slightly on alert considering her encounter with Rocket a few days back. When there was nothing, she relaxed, hurrying towards her room. The Cave was slightly chilly, and she tightened her rain jacket around her.

Still feeling slightly sick, she breathed a sigh of relief as she entered her work room. Walking into it felt a bit like taking shelter in a war zone, or going on the base in tag. The rest of the base was the danger zone. This was a safe haven, her little hidey hole where she could do her work and not be bothered.

Of course, that didn't stop Damian from popping in randomly, usually going to sit on the sofa that had appeared in the room one time when she came back. Taking the old codes down while replacing the new ones was a complicated process.

Rickie didn't want to take them down all at once and leave them vulnerable. She bit her lip as she looked at decent sized wooden table a few feet away from the sofa. It wasn't anything fancy, just plain wood, like it had been built recently. The top of the table was covered with various papers.

Walking in, the table was to her left, the sofa was to her right, and the holocomputer was on the wall by the sofa. Yawning, Rickie wandered over to the holocomputer, opening it up and checking the codes. She stared at it blankly for a minute, in a sort of now what? Kind of way.

Going to the table (lacking any chairs around it), Rickie easily jumped on top of it, sitting cross-legged and searching for the papers she would need. It would probably be easier to keep everything on the computer, but given the security of them at the moment, she wasn't comfortable with that.

Besides, she'd always been a more tactile person, despite her brilliant computer (hacking) skills.

Before she knew it, her eyes were drooping, sleep once more calling her. She struggled to keep her eyes open for a while, but she yawned again. And then laying down on her back on top of the table seemed like a really good idea, and it wouldn't really be that awful to just close her eyes for a moment . . .

Kaldur was bored. As the leader of a team of (mostly) underage superheroes and a grown adult with a life to live, that wasn't a feeling he was very used to. So Kaldur chose to spend his time in the library, most of the team dealing with school or life.

He was fairly certain Beast Boy was somewhere in the Cave, and no doubt Lagoon Boy was lurking around somewhere. Bart, possibly, was around, but he found that unlikely. He was aware his friends were busy, and as someone who was usually busy, Kaldur found himself grateful for the alone time.

He stiffened when he heard the zeta announcement, a frown creasing his face. Laying his book down, Kaldur rested his hand on the knees of his dark sweatpants, tugging at the bottom of his normal red tunic. The outfit bore a vague resemblance to his Aqualad uniform.

Nightwing was here once more. Kaldur initially thought that after the decision to approach Nightwing was she had turned it down or something else along those times, but as one of the full time residents he'd heard her come in at odd hours. Whenever he tried to find her, she managed to avoid him.

Kaldur debated with himself, thinking about how strange it was Nightwing came in now. Sighing, he stood up, walking purposefully to the door towards the door. At least searching for her would give him something to do.

He walked in the back hallways of the mountain while he searched, knowing the room wouldn't be too obvious or frequently used. He managed to find it, pausing outside the door. The silence around him was unbearable.

Kaldur privately knew that a small portion of him was angry at Nightwing, but that anger didn't last long after the Invasion. The plan was what he needed after Tula . . . after Tula was gone, and he learned Black Manta was his father. As much as he may have hated it, it was what he needed.

So no, he couldn't remain mad at her. He was mad for her disappearing, but she told him she'd needed it a break. He'd seen how harshly she was being treated, and he let her go. Kaldur regretted it, when he thought about how much time was missed.

As he stood on the other side of the door, mixed feelings created a storm within him. He wondered what – who, he would find. An angry, broken girl? A cold one, who showed no feelings? Apprehensive, Kaldur went inside.

Whatever he half-expected as he opened the door, it wasn't this. A young, black-haired woman lay asleep on a work table on top of piles of paper. She was on her side, using one of her arms as a pillow. There were papers clutched in her hands.

Some of the mess was notebook paper with scribbles of letters and numbers on it. Pencils lay scattered across the table. Wads of crumpled paper were on the floor. All in all, it was a rather shocking sight to see. This was not how . . . After all these years . . .

Dam. Rickie was old enough to drink. He blinked as his brain seemed to shut down. Eventually, he recovered.

"Busy?" Kaldur asked the asleep Nightwing.

He knew it was kind of cruel, she clearly hadn't been getting much sleep judging by how pale and worn she looked. But he was still trying to get over the shock of seeing her again, and he wanted to make sure this was real.

She was startled awake and flailed around, still half asleep before she ended up falling off the table, a few papers and pencils falling off as well.

"Ugh, I'm up," Rickie said from her spot on the floor, groaning a little in pain. Groggily, she asked, "Where's the fire?"

She looked genuinely worried, but her face broke into a sheepish expression when she saw Kaldur chuckling.

"Think that's funny, don't you?" She huffed unhappily, scowling slightly at the amused look Kaldur sent her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Falling off a table is a splendid way to wake up, Nightwing."

The worst part? Kaldur kept a perfect poker face while saying that. It was ruined by the small smile he cracked at the end.

". . . You suck . . ." Nightwing said grumpily.

Kaldur chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Well, since you're awake, perhaps you would like to join us for dinner?"

She raised an eyebrow, the movement visible even though she wore her domino mask.

"And by that," She said, "Do you mean I cook, and whoever else is hungry in the Cave can eat with?"

Kaldur's lips quirked up, and he pretended to think.

"That would be nice," he said at last, "Though there isn't really anyone else here, my friend."

Rickie shook her head, a lump in her throat when he said friend.

"You sure?"

He nodded. "I do believe we need to catch up."

Her expression was guarded, and she was clearly reluctant, but he'd found her. They walked to the kitchen in silence, Kaldur once more looking at her too thin frame.

"You should eat better," He remarked.

Rickie gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, well, I've been busy. How about you?"

"I have been well," Kaldur shrugged. "The Team has kept me busy."

Rickie hummed to herself as she made something simple, and Kaldur started reading his book. The scene was almost a familiar, the actions routine. When they'd been younger, Rickie cooked food when M'gann couldn't, usually teaching the martian how.

She made something simple, spaghetti and meatballs. They ate the meal in relative silence, the silence awkward but not quite tense. With each passing minute, Rickie felt her tired and overworked nerves fraying more and more, but she was happy Kaldur was here.

He knew her. He'd known since she was ten years old and Kaldur was fourteen when she met him briefly for the first time. He knew her name. But at the same time, he was completely foreign. She'd known him them, but she didn't now.

"How is Bludhaven?" Kaldur asked eventually, too curious to remain silent.

"It's good," Rickie said, starting to wash her empty dishes.

It was a relief to sit down and eat actual food, not microwave mac n' cheese.

She said, "I'm sorry, Kal, I have to go."

Kaldur nodded, but as she turned to leave, he spoke quietly.

"I do not blame you, Nightwing."

She thought of her recent reunion with Rocket.

"Yeah," Rickie said, her words slightly bitter, "But everyone else does."

She walked away. Kaldur didn't say a word, not knowing how to respond to that.

Before I say anything else, my librarians are awesome. I walk into the library, and right when I walk in the one says, "Unless this building is on fire, please do not bother us."

I burst out laughing.

So I'm getting there. And now Kaldur has entered the story! Sorry, but I'm not really seeing him as a romantic interest. Mostly as an older brother, rather. And another thing, I'm thinking of doing a series of randomly updated one-shots of Rickie when she was younger as Robin. Basically, one-shots that happen before this story. Let me know what you think.

Any mistakes, sorry, tell me and I'll fix them. Review.