The streets glinted with leftover rainwater. Steph let her foot jam into a puddle with a splash! She twirled. "Come on, Tim," she cajoled. "This is a mystery. Nothing cheers you up more than a mystery."

Tim didn't respond; she wrinkled her nose. He was in a fine mood, wasn't he. Sullen and muttering things as he walked several paces behind her, like she was a leper of bad decisions.

She hopped over a puddle. "Would you take chill pill," she called over her shoulder.

"You lied to me."

The words were soft, and if there had been a wind she might not have heard them at all. Stephanie swiveled around, eyebrows to her hairline. "No I didn't," she negated. Tim sent her a look. "I omitted some details, but we did go to the concert. We just," she shrugged, "didn't stay."

"A lie of omission is still a lie, Steph," he insisted. He kicked at some trash.

"Ugh, no it's not. You're trying to sound like Bruce," she complained.

"You lied to Bruce too, didn't you."

"Only because it's good for him. Now are you going to be pouty all night, or are you going to help me with this?"

Tim muttered a waspish reply but continued following her. Stephanie flicked back her hair in annoyance. She had worked really hard to get out here. It had taken weeks of careful planning and, well, manipulation to even get a halfway decent chance at breaking into the trafficking scheme. She had found the details when visiting Dick's apartment while he struggled with the blender in the kitchen (Dick could cook, but the apartment was small and the blender had had way more horsepower than a kitchen device should). Then she had kept her ear to the ground, keeping several people on her payroll via her allowance. She snorted. Bruce gave her way too much money. What was she supposed to do with it, save for college?

In any case, news had traveled back that there were some new volunteers for transport, and that they were hanging around Grant Park. Pretty bold, considering that it was at the edge of the fashion district, but it did have the amphitheater and a museum. If you asked Steph, she would say you were better off snatching kids from malls. But she could be grateful that wasn't the case, because 1) getting Tim to the mall would be harder than pulling teeth, especially with the way he was behaving now and 2) malls had cameras, and this was her mission, not Oracle's. She huffed. Everyone had taken Bruce's rules of non-involvement regarding her to heart. Like he was the boss of them or something, which she knew wasn't true. Why couldn't they just give her a chance to prove herself? An actual, genuine chance, not the crap they pulled when they let her think she was helping when she wasn't. What was she, a moron? A baby? A moronic baby?

"Steph," Tim hissed. Oh. He had been talking for a while, hadn't he.

"What?"

"I want the water."

"What water?"

"The water in your backpack."

"Oh." She stopped. "There's no water in my backpack." She slipped it off, zipping it open.

"Then why did you—oh geez."

She made the grapple dance in her hands, humming a beat for it.

Tim's eyes were strangely blue in the streetlights. He looked at her intensely. "Where did you get that?"

"From the discard pile," she replied. "All this stuff needed was a good tweak."

His lips downturned. "That's not safe," he told her, tone serious.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a square, Tim. Geez, live a little."

"Bruce says—"

"Bruce," she said clearly, "is not here." She zipped up her backpack and started walking again.

Okay, this was getting really annoying. See if she ever invited Tim to one of these things ever again.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Tim demanded, tone rife with superiority.

"No," she snapped. "I specifically planned out this entire thing to walk in circles. Who even grew up in the city, you or me?"

Tim let out a disbelieving snort.

Stephanie stopped. She clenched her fists. "If you don't want to do this, leave."

"As if I'd leave you out here alone," Tim shot back. "Bruce would—"

"Does he have a chip in your brain or something? Bruce-speak that takes over your body and makes you say stupid shit?"

"Shut up," he snapped. "At least I listen to what he has to say. At least I'm not running around barely knowing what I'm doing in an attempt to make a stupid point."

"And what point would that be?" she bit out.

Tim gazed at her. "You already know."

Anger chilled her down to her veins. "What I know is this," she said. "It sounds like you're so desperate for people to like you that you've given up having your own thoughts and opinions."

"Just because I follow his rules doesn't mean—"

She began walking again. Tim quickly followed her, jumping over discarded trash.

"Have you ever thought that his rules exist for a reason?" he demanded.

"You don't have those rules," she negated. She didn't slow down. "Jason didn't have those rules, Dick didn't have those rules. The rules are specifically for me, and it's bullshit."

"He lost a child, Stephanie!"

She whirled around. "And?!"

Tim blinked at her, incredulous.

"Jason is dead," she insisted, "and he's not coming back."

An intake of breath.

"Don't say that," he whispered. His eyes were glassy. "Don't ever say things like that. Especially not around Bruce. Promise me."

Stephanie shifted, feeling uncomfortable with her harshness but not wanting to lose face. She hesitated.

"Stop telling me what to do," she said after a moment. "And quit scolding me. I'm older than you."

"Then act like it," Tim mumbled. Stephanie pretended not to have heard.

She tossed her head. "You're really rude," she told him, "because the only reason I even did this was for you."

Despite his frustration, Tim ducked his head. His mother's chastising tone echoed in his mind.

"Stop behaving this way. The only reason we don't let you know when we leave is because you act like this."

He folded his hands into his pockets, keeping his footsteps featherlight despite wanting to stomp. He had a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. She had jumped this on him, hadn't let him prepare, he didn't even have a comm. It went against everything he was trained for, everything he had promised to be for Bruce.

Tim exhaled between his teeth.

Since Steph, things had gotten...hard.

Tim had done his best to be what Bruce needed, day in and day out, but he couldn't...he couldn't be Steph. He couldn't make Steph behave, he couldn't make it up to Bruce by being twice as dutiful. Tim felt like he was disappearing under Bruce's gaze, and yet all he could see was the ghost of Jason and the disasters Stephanie left in her wake.

He tried to be both. He tried to support Bruce as Robin, take up the space left behind, honor the graveyard he walked through everyday. But the shoes were large to fill, and he slipped every time he tried to take a step forward. He tried to make up for Stephanie's acidic words and actions, her careless handling of Bruce's heart.

He tried to be what Bruce wanted him to be. He tried to be what Bruce needed.

And yet...

Tim felt alienated from his own hands. The space between his brain and body was taken up by "what ifs" and "maybe this time." Maybe if he did things over again, better this time, smarter this time, stronger this time, it would be enough.

Maybe Tim would be enough.

But he knew better. And he knew the entire ordeal was selfish. He wasn't there to make Bruce feel better about himself. He was there to make Bruce feel better. He was there to help. To help Gotham, and within that, Bruce.

Bruce needed eyes on Stephanie, needed someone to watch out for her when he couldn't. Which was why Tim even bothered to go to the stupid concert.

He really hated Devil's Cub.

His head snapped up.

"Steph!" he whisper-yelled. "Steph!"

She didn't stop.

"That's it," he said. "I'm going to find a pay phone and call Bruce."

"No, you're not," she said, unworried as her long blonde braid swung like a pendulum. "Because if you do, then Bruce is going to think that you can't handle the mission, and you don't want that."

Tim's feet came to a halt.

But there was no point in arguing, because they were already beneath Leroux Bridge, creeping up behind the beat-up suburban.

Stephanie grinned and set down her backpack. She withdrew a lockout tool and shimmied it down a window, unlocking the passenger door.

"Be lookout," she instructed him, ignoring his protests and throwing herself into the vehicle.

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but the back of his neck prickled.

He instantly went to cover her, ducking into the car. "Steph, wait—"

Bang!