"Shit, we can't go home yet," Dick groaned almost as soon as they were in the car.

"You should be in bed," Bruce rebutted firmly. "We should have waited to do this much as it is. The last thing you need is to move around even more."

"I need to go to the precinct and tell them I'm quitting."

"You can do that over the phone."

"Bruce…I really can't. I've worked with those people for the last three years. We've been on stakeouts together. We've watched each other's backs. I've been in a couple of the guys' weddings. Calling instead of going in person to quit…that would be like you phoning in your resignation from the JLA to Uncle Clark. It just wouldn't be right. I owe them more than that."

He sighed, proud of the loyalty his son was exhibiting but aggravated that it meant more time would have to pass before he could tuck him safely into bed. "Fine," he agreed tersely, turning the car towards the station he knew Dick was assigned to. "But make sure you're fast about it. And don't be surprised if I give Alfred explicit permission to keep you drugged all day tomorrow. You won't heal right if you don't get some rest."

"I know. I have to do this first, though. I'll be as quick as I can be." When they pulled up in front of the drab concrete façade with a faded '41st precinct' etched over the entryway, he spoke again. "There's a visitors' lot around the back. I'll meet you there, okay?"

"I'm timing you," the driver warned. "If you take too long, I'm coming in after you."

Dick rolled his eyes. "I don't doubt it." Standing, he allowed himself just a moment to stabilize, resting his hand on the roof of the car. When he pushed off, he concentrated on keeping his gait steady, a difficult task given how stiff his side had become since breakfast. Reminded of food, his stomach pinched. Maybe I can convince Bruce to swing in for some fast food on the way out of town, he thought, pushing a door open and entering the building that had become something like a second home to him.

"Ooh, Dick, honey, where've you been?" Cecelia squealed immediately, her southern drawl echoing off the high ceiling of the reception area. Over-curled blonde hair bounced above her shoulders as she rushed around the front desk to clutch at his arm. "Sergeant Lagrange's been stompin' round here like a bull when the cows're in heat. Heard her say earlier if she didn't hear somethin' from you soon she was gonna send Nick and Bozo to check."

Behind Cecelia he could see Danielle, the other main receptionist, on the phone, glancing up at him frequently. She had obvious called his sergeant the instant he'd walked in, so he steeled himself against the talon-like nails digging into his flesh and ventured a question. "How mad did you say she was, again?"

"Well, she ain't to rabid pitbull level yet, but she sure was gettin' close last time I saw her." The country-bred girl narrowed her eyes and peered up at him. "You feelin' poorly, doll? You're looking all peaky. Whyn't you come sit down?"

Well, so much for no one noticing, Dick groaned internally. If Cecilia thinks I look bad, there's no way in hell Lagrange will miss it. "I'm all right," he insisted, making his voice as light and unconcerned as he could. "Nothing to worry about. I'm just going to head back, okay?" he called over the blonde's head to Danielle. She frowned a bit, said something into the receiver, then nodded at him. "Got to go," he told the woman still attached to him, patting her hand until she got the hint and released her hold.

"Lagrange's in a weird mood today. Fair warning," Danielle muttered as he passed her.

"Thanks, Dee. You've always got my back."

"Well, Cecelia's so jealous of your front…" Dick laughed. Cecelia was sweet, and it was no secret around the station that she had quite possibly the world's biggest crush on him, but Dee was someone he could see himself actually having a relationship with. They'd never gone beyond light flirting for the simple reason that it would probably kill the other receptionist if she suspected they were involved, but he'd found himself thinking about her on more than one lonely night patrol.

"Don't you let her ride you too hard, handsome," Cecilia called after him as he started down the hallway towards the rear of the building. He glanced back and nodded his acknowledgement, then turned the corner and was out of sight. As soon as he saw that the way in front of him was clear, he stopped and slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The Percocet had finally numbed him again, but it did nothing to curb his exhaustion.

"Grayson!"

He jerked upright, flinched, and bit back a moan at the breakthrough pain his sudden motion had caused. "Hi, Sergeant," he managed as a short, immensely capable looking brunette emerged from one of the rooms lining the corridor and stomped up to him.

"Grayson, you look like shit. Where have you been? You were due in at nine, and it's going on three thirty."

"Sorry, boss," he smiled weakly, trying to shore himself up in the face of the colossal chewing out she was bound to give him.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. Damn it, you're never late, so why today, of all days? And," she added, looking him up and down, "why aren't you in uniform?"

"Well, that's actually why I'm here. I have to qu-"

"Hold it," she ordered, raising a hand. "I've heard that line from plenty of others before you, but I don't intend to accept it out of your mouth. You're a special case. Come with me, there's someone I want you to talk to before you do anything stupid."

"…Okay," he frowned, following her the short distance back to the door she had emerged from. She stopped with her hand on the knob.

"Why are you walking like that?"

Oh, fuck. I knew it. "I don't know what you mean," he played it cool, not reacting even when she gave him an Alfred-class stare of disbelief.

"Really," she repeated skeptically. When he just looked at her stolidly, she snorted. "Fine. Have it your way."

Dick stopped short as he entered the room and found a familiar figure examining a file. "Captain Delaney," he addressed him, standing as close to attention as he could manage.

"Grayson. Have a seat."

He obeyed, uncertain where all of this was going.

"Do you know why you're here?" Lagrange asked from behind him. There was a hint of satisfaction in her voice, the same tone Dick had heard her use when she'd caught someone doing something wrong and was going to get to see them punished for it.

"No, I can't say that do, Sergeant." His voice was dead calm, not belying his internal terror in the least. They must suspect something, he thought. She saw that I'm in pain, and she knows I wasn't hurt when I left here yesterday. She knows I'm quitting. More importantly, she's using that tone, like she's got something on me. How, though? I've been so careful. "Why am I here? Have I done something wrong, other than my extreme tardiness today?"

"Your record is impressive," Delaney said quietly. "Very impressive, especially in one so relatively new to police work."

"…Thank you, sir," he accepted, flabbergasted. Captain Delaney was about as known for giving out praise as Batman was for giving out hugs.

"It makes a person wonder, you know. It took me thirteen years to rise from beat cop to detective. Thirteen long, bloody years of practice and study."

"…Sir?"

"I've known more than a few officers who never developed the skills they needed to really solve crimes. They could generally manage to catch the criminal, once they were told where to wait and when to strike, but they didn't have the finesse to predict him. It takes years of experience. You, however," he raised his head and fixed sharp, almost-black eyes on the younger man, "seem to be a prodigy at it."

"I enjoy my work, sir," Dick said evenly. "I've always liked puzzles, things like that." They can't know, he thought wildly. I've taken every precaution, there's no way they could even suspect…

"Puzzles," Delaney pondered. "Well, we have plenty of those upstairs. More than enough, I would think, even for someone with your unnaturally keen skills."

"I'm sorry, sir? I don't understand."

"You're being promoted, Grayson," Lagrange barked. "Captain Delaney's stealing you away from me."

Dick's head was spinning. "You…promoted?" he repeated slowly. He wanted to cry with relief; Nightwing hadn't even entered their thoughts. Still, though…promoted, now, when he'd just gotten things back together with Bruce? The timing was terrible.

"You'll have to complete the ninety day probationary period, of course," Delaney droned on. "But once that's complete you'll be awarded the rank of lieutenant. I'd like to put you in trafficking when it's all said and done. Sergeant Lagrange has told me you have a special knack for knowing who's likely to be where, and when, and why."

"Sir, I…Sergeant," he turned to her, eyes pleading. "Please." You know what I'm here to do, or at least you seem to. Help me make this easier.

She chuffed slightly. "Don't be an idiot, Grayson. You can't turn this down."

"Turn it down?" Captain Delaney looked back and forth between the two of them. "I seem to be out of the loop."

"I…" Oh, total hell, bounced through his mind. "Sir, I came in here this afternoon to…well, to quit. To give up my badge."

Delaney blinked. "That seems very strange from a man who's missed exactly-" he referenced the file in his hands briefly "-two days of work in three years, and has as stellar of an arrest record as you do. What could possibly distract you, when you're so obviously dedicated to your job?"

"I'm needed at home, sir. Back in Gotham."

"Ah. The prodigal son returns, is that what this is all about? I know you were Bruce Wayne's ward until you came of age, Grayson, but that doesn't mean you can't make your own decisions now that you're an adult. This has nothing to do with him."

"He's a multi-billionaire, he can find someone else to do whatever it is he wants you for," Lagrange threw in.

He already has! his brain screamed. He caught himself before the words could exit his mouth, cleared his throat, and reiterated. "I'm needed at home. I'm very flattered, I really am, Captain, but I can't accept your offer."

"Hmm…" Delaney sat back in his chair and considered the out-of-uniform officer before him. The man had immense potential, and he wasn't going to lose him to the likes of a billionaire playboy if he could help it. What could be enticing him to give up the job he had dedicated himself to with such fervor for the last three years? More importantly, what could he counter-offer to make him stay? "What is he giving you that you can't have here?" he queried, deciding to ask outright. "If it's money, I would remind you that you will receive a substantial raise and an annual bonus once you've passed the probationary period. And you'll get that without feeling like you have to kowtow to daddy's wishes for it."

"Money has nothing to do with it, sir," Dick said rigidly, frowning at the jab towards Bruce.

"Mmm. You do project an aura of being above that sort of thing." He tried another tack. "But think about the respect that you would accord in your new position, the good you could do for this city." Dick shifted in his seat, and Delaney knew he'd scored a hit. "Anyone who knows you would be pleased to see you progressing through the ranks so quickly, Mr. Wayne included. He couldn't possibly object to your pursuit of such a noble career, regardless of what other plans he might have had for you. I don't see you as the type to sit around in board rooms all day in a suit and tie. At the rate you're going, you could find yourself offered your own precinct before you see thirty. That would, of course, make you the youngest Commander in Bludhaven's history. In Gotham's, as well, I believe. From there, of course, you'd be in a prime position to be named Commissioner. I wouldn't be surprised to see you become the youngest in that office as well, assuming you can keep your nose clean."

Dick swallowed heavily. It was a really fantastic image, and Captain Delaney had him pegged on the fact that he loved doing police work. He could feel Lagrange's eyes boring into the back of skull, begging him to say yes. The room started to fade as the reality of what he was being offered warred with what he knew he would have to give up in order to take it. "…I just don't know, sir," he managed to whisper, trying to keep his head.

"Damn it, Grayson!"

"Please, Sergeant Lagrange," Delaney stopped her. He could tell that he had shaken the pedestal under his officer a little; all that might be needed was a little time and a few family squabbles to put Grayson right back in Bludhaven. "I think it was unfair of us to expect an answer so soon. I'm sure that this quick skip up the ranks must come as a surprise, and maybe even be a bit daunting." Dick gave him a tiny nod. "Take a week, then. In fact, take two weeks, paid. Think it over." Standing, he slid an envelope across the desk and tapped it twice. "You've spent the last three years keeping the criminals from running this city, Grayson. Maybe it's time you stepped back and decided to do the same with your life."

He knew that the last of the Captain's words were meant as another subtle insult towards Bruce, but he didn't rise to the bait. Standing stiffly, he waited until Delaney was gone before he picked up the envelope. He stared at it for a long minute, then bit his lip and turned to leave. "…Sergeant?" he ventured when he found her blocking his way.

"Don't be a dumbass. Take the job," she hissed at him, glaring. She looked as if she wanted to say more, but his perplexed expression made it clear that he wouldn't really absorb anything she might add. She held her tongue and exited, mumbling something under her breath and slamming the door behind herself.

He gave her a few seconds to clear off before he ventured into the hallway himself. Seeing no one nearby, he made his way slowly back towards the entrance, having completely spaced that he was supposed to meet Bruce on the other side of the building. Part of him wanted to go down and say goodbye to anyone who might be hanging out in the bullpen, but a greater part didn't feel able to face anyone else cajoling him not to leave. He wondered if Lagrange had told any of the other officers about the offer he'd just been made. She probably had, he decided; it reflected well on her, too, so she had no doubt told everyone she could get to listen. It was her way.

"Sugar, you look like somebody just kicked your puppy," Cecelia gasped when he rounded the corner. Dropping her nail file, she prepared to bustle around to him. "She wasn't too mean to you, was she?"

"I didn't hear any yelling, so it can't have been that awful," Danielle joked. Then she looked up from her paperwork and saw his face. "Oh. Bad, huh?"

"No," he shook his head, a dazed look in his eyes as he met her gaze. He knew objectively that his injury was pairing with the shock of the offer he'd just received to make him feel completely weak, but neither of those things felt like the cause of the roiling uncertainty creeping into his belly. "Not bad, just…confusing."

"Thirty minutes," a voice boomed. Three faces, two surprised, one shell-shocked, focused on the form of Bruce Wayne as he swept up to the counter. "I don't care if you got no further into quitting than stopping here to flirt, you're out of time. Anything else that needs to be said can be told over the phone."

"Quitting?!" The girls jinxed each other. Danielle looked back to Dick, her visage questioning. Cecelia froze and slapped her hand to her mouth, speechless.

"Yeah," Dick said vaguely, fingers tightening on the envelope. "I have to go now. Bye, Cecelia." He faced Danielle for the briefest of moments. "I'll…I'll see you later, Dee." With that, he headed for the door, feeling Bruce fall into step beside him. If he hadn't been so out of himself he might have chuckled to hear a very put-out Cecelia giving Danielle a none-too-gentle smack on the shoulder. Locked in a fog of conflicting emotions, he instead honed in on the car, parked illegally in front of the building, and climbed in without a word.

"You look like you're about to collapse. What the hell took so long?"

He just shook his head and closed his eyes.

"Dick?" The voice was suddenly much kinder, almost to the point of being unreal. A hand landed on his brow, testing his temperature, then slid briefly through his hair. "Lie back and get some sleep, son. We'll be home soon."

He forced his eyes open again. "Bruce?"

"It's okay," he said, staring at him, trying not to let his fear show. He sensed that something had changed in the last half hour, and that whatever it was had hit Dick hard. "We'll talk about it later."

"…Okay." And after that, he knew nothing for some time.