A/N: Hello m'dears… I hope that the week has been a good one to you.

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I kissed her.

I freaking kissed her.

What in the hell was I thinking in kissing her? Raya's my best friend. I shouldn't have kissed her. Okay, he amended silently. I shouldn't have kissed her like that. What must she be thinking right now?

Dick raked his fingers through his hair and tried to answer the multitude of questions which had started plaguing him once he and Damian left Raya at the Museum with Bruce. In the heat of the moment, everything that happened between them had made sense. However, now that he'd had a chance to come down from the emotional high, it was all nothing more than one tangled mass worming its way through his brain. So engrossed was he in puzzling (and fretting) over the kiss he'd shared with Raya, Dick did not hear Damian speaking to him. It wasn't until he heard Damian go "Ttch," in his I-have-really-had-enough-of-being-ignored tone that he finally looked over at his young partner.

"I'm sorry, Dami," he said apologetically. "My mind is somewhere else at the moment."

"Clearly," Damian huffed.

Dick could see his perma-sneer was firmly in place, his pert nose turned up at just the right angle to convey his displeasure, but there was something off about his entire expression. His face was lacking the right level of arrogance and condescension it normally had to empower the expression fixed on his face. His voice lacked the normal amount of heat, of derision.

Dick chalked it off as being a reflection of the evening's events. The night had been an emotional one for all of them. Dick also knew from his time spent as the younger superheroes partner and mentor that Damian tended to hide his fears out of worry it would somehow make him appear weak in front of them. Clearly, he was freaked out by what had nearly occurred at the Museum. So was he. Bullets were not so great for anybody's life expectancy after all.

"Dami?" he asked, draping an arm around the younger superheroes neck. "You okay?"

Damian rolled his eyes but allowed the embrace because it was both a familiar and comfort he needed. "Grayson, has kissing Raya somehow addled your brains or something?"

Dick felt heat suffuse his cheeks. "You saw me kiss Raya?"

The pre-teen just let out one long suffering sigh.

"Obviously," he said dryly. "It is not as if you two have ever been very good job at hiding your displays of affection."

Dick groaned and slapped his hand against his face. "So gonna be all over the Gotham high society pages about her and I being an item."

Damian made another Tt. "Are you two not boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"No!" Dick yelped. He saw Damian blink up at him and tried to cover his response by saying, "Raya is my best friend, Dami. She's not my girlfriend."

"The only two people who believe that you are not boyfriend and girlfriend are you and Raya," Damian snarked. "The rest of us have known you two were boyfriend and girlfriend for years."

"That's not..." Dick began but Damian cut him off with a snort.

"Even Crane has figured out you are way more than just friends, Dick."

"You so can't count Crane's..."

Damian twisted around to face off with this man who was both his best friend and partner.

"Why else would Crane have targeted you for an attack?" He snapped. "It is because he knows Raya will throw all caution out the door in order to protect you. You are her weakest spot!"

"Dami..." Dick began but Damian cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"He sees you as a threat."

"Well, I am a threat," Dick replied honestly. "I will do whatever it takes to stop..."

"Not that kind of a threat!" Damian groused. "Geez, Grayson, are you really this dense?"

Dick gave him a stern look. "Watch it, Damian."

Damian made a ffff sound which was an amazingly accurate rendering of the one Raya tended to make whenever she was really annoyed with him. Dick found himself grinning despite his vexation with the kid.

"Crane sees you as an obstacle standing in the way of him securing Raya's affections. He is targeting you in order to remove you from the equation."

There was just enough grit in his voice to remind Dick of Bruce. If the situation wasn't laced with so much tension, he'd have teased Damian about it. He didn't, however, because there was a slippery undercurrent in what Damian said that had alarm bells ringing in his head. Regret? He wondered. For what? was his next silently asked question?

Racking his brain, Dick tried to figure out just what it was his little Robin had to be guilty about. The only possibility there was for why Damian felt any sort of remorse was because he'd be the one who called him home and ultimately placed him and Raya in unforeseen danger. Dick found himself wondering why Damian had called him home considering Bruce, Conner and Tim were all in Gotham and could easily have handled things without them. Only one way to find out, he realized.

"Why'd you call me home, Dami?" he asked.

A faint flicker of surprise flashed on Damian's face. Clearly he had not imagined he'd be questioned about his reasoning for calling him home. Then his face went blank and he muttered a simple, "Because."

"Because, why?" Dick pressed gently. Damian hunched his spine and refused to answer. Dick settled his hands upon his shoulders and squeezed them gently. "C'mon, Dami," he pleaded softly. "Tell me why ya called me home. Please?"

Damian shot him a look that was so hot that Dick imagined his flesh melting off his bones. He changed tactics by whimpering plaintively and giving him his patented puppy-eye look. Damian tutted before he turned to moodily stare down at the empty streets below them. Finally, he mumbled, "She wasn't sleeping, okay?"

He knew Raya hated sleeping alone. No, he corrected silently. She hates sleeping without me there to keep her demons away.

"I couldn't help it, Dami," he said lightly. "Bruce wanted me to attend the JLA meeting in D.C. so he could stay here and keep watch over things. Raya knew I was only going to be gone a few days. And we Skyped each other every night."

"She doesn't sing when you are gone," he mumbled. "She doesn't sing when she's not happy." He side-eyed him. "She's not happy when you're not home."

Dick was about to question him on that when he spotted a black van pulling up outside the building they'd been watching for the last half hour. "Looks like Crane's goons have finally arrived," he said.

He heard Damian sigh. "I can see that."

"How do ya wanna do this then?" he asked. "Divide and conquer. Or just drop in and say hello?"

"Tt," was Damian's reply. "We both know you like making a theatrical entrance the best, Grayson."

"Drop in and say hello it is."

"Fine," the younger superhero said before he stood up and walked to the edge of the building. Dick followed him, his thoughts still doing loopy loops on his mental roller coaster. Before he followed Damian and leapt off the building he made a note to have a talk with Raya about the state of things between them. I just have a feeling I know what she's gonna say the moment I bring up the subject of us becoming a couple, was his final thought before jumping off after his partner.

Wayne Manor echoed with a burning silence. It was a constant which Raya had grown used too. It always felt as if the house was wrapped in the arms of the cold shadows which slithered across the polished floors, and danced in every dark corner. The tangled web of memories which shrouded this house ran deep. The walls sighed and wept at the dark secrets which were hidden deep inside the Manor's brick and wooden infrastructure. It was all a comforting familiar for Raya as she made her way up from the Batcave and across the main foyer into the massive kitchen.

A silver tray had been left on the marble island in the middle of the room. Raya saw that a carton of vanilla ice cream, bowls, spoons and a bag of Skittles (God bless Alfred) had already been set out upon the glossy surface. A smile curved her lips as she picked up the tray and left the kitchen. She was thrown backwards in time as she ascended the staircase.

Two years ago she'd ascended these very stairs with her hands loaded down with the very same items she now carried. Then she'd been coming to comfort and soothe her grieving little brother. Now she was coming to apologize for having hurt her little brother by making him stand helpless as time tried to steal two people he loved dearly from him. I shoulda listened, Tim, she told the absent hero as she turned at the top of the stairs and made her way into the East wing. I shoulda waited for Conner. I shoulda figured out a way to keep Crane there. I shoulda...

So many shoulda's she realized as she stepped over to Tim's door. If she could go back in time she would. She couldn't though and had to contend with the consequences of her actions. Raya paused in front of the closed door, balanced the tray on her left hip and used her right hand to lightly rap upon the wood.

"Tim?" she called out. "Can I come in, please?"

He didn't answer, but Raya knew he was in the room because she could hear the television. We gonna be watching an old Bogey film tonight, Timmy? She thought with a vague smile. Skittles and ice cream were not the only tradition she had with her little brother. They both loved old movies, Tim favoring detective movies while she favored nearly anything with Cary Grant. She reached out and turned the door handle, heard it release with a click and used her hip to gently nudge the door open. She watched it open...

Open into a bedroom that had looked like a tornado had blown through it. In her mind's eye she again saw how his desk chair had been thrown across the room, his bookcase and desk emptied of all their contents—the books, papers and DVDs once gracing the shelves and drawers flung all around the room like confetti. There was glass on the floor from where a desk lamp had not survived being smashed against the bathroom door. Seated on the floor in the middle of his ocean of chaos was the man responsible. Only in her mind's eye this man was a couple years younger, a little less muscular and nearly broken by the surge of grief trying to drown him in its fiery clutches...

"Time sucks."

Her heart clenched at the explosive nature of his statement. That, more than anything, told her just how far over the edge her little brother was hanging. One more push and he could fall. Preventing that fall was her immediate concern. "Yes," she said softly. "It does."

"This can't be happening, Raya." The plea in his voice shredded her heart as if it was made of rice paper. "Please, tell me it isn't happening."

"Oh, baby," she whispered against the top of his downy head. "I wish I could. I really wish that I could."

"It's not happening..." he repeated again. "It's not happening."

It's not happening, she thought. Tim had been semi-right that night. It wasn't happening as they'd imagined it was. Bruce had not been dead, just merely lost in time. Tonight wasn't happening either. Time and that bandaged gunman had just not been faster than Dick. Raya was pulled free of her dark reverie when she felt the tray being lifted away from her. She blinked her eyes and shook herself to clear the cobwebs before looking up into Tim's stormy eyes. He smiled crookedly at her.

"You looked like you were about to drop the tray," he said before turning to set it on the bed. "Figured I should rescue the snacks since you were considerate enough to carry them up here."

"I was daydreaming," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "Good thing you were here to rescue the ice cream and Skittles."

Tim snorted a laugh. "Any particular reason you were staring off into space like that? Besides the most obvious reason that is?"

She squirmed a little at the accusatory note which coated his voice, was in his eyes. "I was just thinking about the last time I came up here with Skittles and vanilla ice cream."

"Was a bad time back then," he said on a sigh. "Everything was such a mess. We'd thought we'd lost Bruce, Jason was waging war on his legacy, Dick had taken Damian as Robin..."

Raya set her hand on his back, felt that his spine was like tempered steel. "Yanno, there was something good to come outta that point in time, Tim."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked with a glance over his shoulder. "And what was that?"

"Well, I not only got a chance to get to know my little brother better," she said. "But I got a chance to work with him as well."

His lips quirked up at the corners. "Little?" he teased. "I'm taller than you now."

"Don't remind me." She made a face before sliding her arms around his waist and hugging him tight. "I'm sorry about tonight."

He sighed as he turned and enfolded her in his arms. "I know why you left the Museum, Raya," he said in a thick voice. "I get it. Crane threatened Dick somehow..."

"He was going to use a vial of his new toxin on him, Tim."

Tim angled his head to look at her. "You saw it? You saw he has a new toxin?"

She gave a slight nod of her head. "I not only saw the new toxin that Crane has synthesized," she said as she reached into a hidden pocket of her robe. "But I was able to swipe the syringe as we were leaving the Museum."

Tim stared at the syringe she was cradling in her palm. The glass vial was filled with a demonically red liquid that seemed to pulse with evil intent whenever the liquid was sloshed around. He carefully picked the syringe up and held it up to better study it. It seemed to wink at him whenever the light caught it just right.

"How exactly did you manage to pickpocket Crane?" he asked with some degree of amusement in his tone.

"Hey," she said cheekily. "I learned how ta be a better pickpocket from one of the best dippers to come outta Gotham's East End."

Tim snorted a laugh. "You and Jason had a highly unusual partnership."

"What?" she said with mock innocence. "Isn't how to be a better purse snatcher one of the things you do when on a date with a girl?"

He chuckled. "I tend to prefer taking my dates to dinner and a movie actually."

"Ah." Her lips trembled. "Well, yanno how unorthodox your older brother is about damn near everything he does."

"Speaking of unorthodox dating practices," Tim said cheekily. "Ya happen to catch any of Lisa Woodrow's show?"

Raya groaned. "Oh, God... don't tell me that mine and Dick's kiss has already gone viral."

"It was her lead off puff piece."

"Son of a bitch," she muttered.

"Shoulda minded the tra…" he began but she covered his mouth with her hand.

"I got that lecture from Bruce, thank you."

Tim merely grinned before reaching up to pull her hand aside and ask, "Is that the only lecture you've received? I woulda sworn he would have yelled at you about irresponsibility, blind loyalty and nearly getting yourself killed."

"Ya want to eat the vanilla ice cream or wear it, Red Wonder?" she said huffily.

"Point taken," Tim said with a grin. "Let's snack and talk."

"'Kay."

Later, much later, Dick was reclining in bed and still thinking about everything that had happened the previous evening. So much had occurred that he didn't rightly know where to even begin sorting it all out. Of everything, Damian slapping the truth in his face about the reality of his relationship with Raya was the one he was thinking over the most. For the last few years he'd been able to deny how he really felt about her, managed to convince himself (and he thought the rest of the world) that all he felt for Raya was the love and affection that one tended to feel for a best friend. However, and as Damain so helpfully pointed out to him, it was all one great big lie he'd been telling himself and which only he actually believed.

Real kick in the ass when your kid brother points out what a bonehead you've been.

Oh, Dick could admit (to himself) that he was terrified of letting Raya into his heart, of allowing her to get that close to him. He'd lost so many people in his life: his parents, Donna, other friends and people he'd tried to rescue. He'd even lost Bruce and Jason for a time. Raya's the one person in my life I know I cannot handle losing. So he chose to push her away, convinced himself that keeping her at a distance would protect them both from getting hurt when the fall came. Only now, in the cold light of the pre-dawn morning could he see how keeping her from getting close to him was just his way of trying to avoid the cataclysm he knew would come if something happened to her.

He still feared losing the daft woman. Even more so now that he knew that Matthew Berkeley was willing to hire gunmen in order to murder her. Only, he now realized that he could just as easily lose her if she was his girlfriend, or his best friend. And he saw that the cataclysm he'd been trying to avoid if something did happen to her, was still going to happen. He'd tear this world, and anybody who got in his way apart, in order to avenge her death.

And that? That's what scares me the most about getting involved with her again, he told himself. Losing her-just her, would kill me. God forbid if we have children.

Yet all his attempts to keep from letting her in, had failed. Somehow the little thief had managed to creep around every one of his defenses in order to take his heart prisoner. Ah, but if he was being honest, he'd admit that she'd always held his heart in the palm of her hand. She'd taken hold of the fickle thing the night Bruce had brought him home to the Manor. When he'd asked her how long she'd be staying with them, she'd replied "a while." His lips quirked. A while turned into nearly all the time. Not that he'd minded. Just as much as he'd recognized that she'd needed him, he'd needed her, too. Alone, they'd been two lonely and grief-stricken kids. Together, they were a little less lonely and the hurt didn't choke them quite so much.

A fragment of a memory rose up then to remind him of something he'd made himself forget.

"I just wanted to see my girl," he told her cheerfully.

"Your girl." Raya snorted. "Get real, buzzard brains."

"You are my girl, Rae," he told her in all seriousness now. "You will always be my girl."

She's still my girl, he told his younger self. She'll always be my girl, he thought as his fingers skimmed up and down her back in one long, continuous motion. But convincing Miss Stubborn of that, he realized as he slowly began to drop off to sleep, is going to prove about as easy as getting Bruce to admit when he's wrong.