The "R" lay heavy in my palm, the cool steel beginning to warm from my touch. Still half crouching, I looked up and met the impenetrable icy blue gaze of the masked man in front of me. He was now standing casually over the unresponsive Maroni, slack jawed but breathing, his gun had already been kicked away from his limp hand.

"How did you..." we both began and fell silent. His inscrutable gaze bore into my soul, taking my breath away. I tore my eyes away and took a couple of steadying breaths before I looked back up at him. My eyes travelled idly up his body, amazed by the intricate detailing of his suit. His dark forest green cape, with its muted gold trimmings, whipped around his armoured legs. My eyes were drawn away from the dark, unidentifiable material to his dark gold, almost brass-like, utility belt. My fingers tingled with the urge to reach out and touch, I blushed as the realisation of how it must look, me staring at his lower abdomen, to Robin. I peered up, my gaze skimming the proud gold "R", matching the one in my hand, perched atop of his dull blood-red chest plate, finally meeting his quizzical stare.

"Ladies first," his voice was velvet compared to Maroni's and his roughness. He held out a hand and, without thinking, I grabbed his forearm, heaving myself up.

"I think you dropped this," I said placing the "R" in his outstretched hand. He gave a half smile in response but my attention was once again, drawn back to his suit.

My fingertips played on the ridges of his gloved arm and without a moment's pause, I asked what it was made of.

"Titanium plates woven into a synthetic material."

"Wow!" I turned his arm over, lost in my own amazement. My gaze fell on the screen that ran along his forearm, "woah..."

"My turn," he smiled, gently pulling his arm from my grip.

"I'm so sorry!" I flustered, feeling my cheeks redden. "Wait, what? Your turn?"

"You got to ask your question. It's only fair, I get to ask mine. Who are you?" His brilliant blue eyes searched my own. I felt uncomfortable under his keen gaze, as if he was looking rather than listening for the answer.

I stood, silently, rooted to the spot. Conflict raging within me; for some reason, I wanted to be upfront and honest to this stranger but a cynical inner voice reminded me of the only other rule my parents enforced and that was to never, ever give out my real name. They were high ranking officials within the defence force and warned me from a young age of the implications of me being forthright with sensitive information... throughout my schooling they even made me use an alias. On the other hand, this was Robin, wasn't it? He was trustworthy, right? One of the good guys... right?

"My parents call me, Blue," I answered, not a complete lie but not the truth either, I reasoned.

"Blue..." his dark eyebrow cocked, a ghost of smile playing on his lips.

"Well, what do I call you then?" I pouted.

"Robin."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," he quietly laughed. "So..." Robin paused before speaking any further, pushing a finger into his ear. He stood quietly for a few moments, his unfathomably blue eyes never leaving mine and once again, I was lost in their depths.

"Got it. I'll meet you there," he eventually spoke, breaking the spell he held over me. "I gotta go, Blue," Robin had already turned, his cape whipping around his calves, aiming his grappling gun at a nearby ledge, "but you owe me two answers!" He called out as he flew through the night air, his suit camouflaging him perfectly with the darkness of Gotham.

"Two?!" I yelled out. I heard his faint laughter, growing more distant, in response.

I ran the rest of the way home, the cold air bringing me back to my senses. "I could have said anything... anything! And all I said was, two?!" I panted, "Blue?!" I groaned, turning the corner. I'd just met one of the caped crusaders, Gotham's hero, for the first and, probably, only time, and that's what I said? I shook my head, narrowly missing a low hanging tree branch. Too busy with my self-admonishing, I barely realised I had arrived on my street and if it weren't for my Mom, I would have kept running.

"You're out late," she called out as her ride drove off. "Hey! Jay!" She shouted again, finally getting my attention.

"Oh? Sorry, Mom," I jogged up to her and gave her a quick hug, "how was your shift?"

"Fine. Are you okay?" Taking a small step back, she held my chin in her hands, concern etching her face.

"I'm fine," I tried pulling away in vain. I took a deep breath before answering her again, "really, I'm okay. I just got a little lost on my way back from the library."

She looked me over, her steel grey eyes searching for something out of place. I smiled sweetly, "Mom, I'm fine. Really."

I could see she was still a little skeptical but pushing it no further, she kissed my cheek and handed me the take out she had brought home for dinner.

After giving them a very quick rundown, minus hoodlums and a certain vigilante, we ate our Chinese BBQ in a comfortable silence, listening to a jazzy tune drifting from the lounge room. I easily feigned interest in their conversation, muttering a sound of agreement or a tight laugh when needed. My mind fixated on the night's events, replaying them over and over again. "Freak!" Maroni's fearful face all I could see. I'd been learning all types of self defence techniques for as long as I could remember... I was just in tune with my body. Yes! That was it! Training for as long as I had would mean I could do things perhaps others couldn't...?

"You done, Blue?" Dad's voice broke my train of thought and I nodded.

My mind continued to stray but thankfully, my body was on autopilot. Without realising, I had helped tidy up and had hugged my parents goodnight. It wasn't until I was in front of the vanity mirror in my bathroom, brushing my teeth, when Maroni's words resurfaced once again, "You ain't human!" I spat my toothpaste into the sink and threw my toothbrush down. "What does that even mean?" I huffed at my reflection. I raked my dark blonde hair into a long ponytail, willing an answer to show itself but of course, nothing came.

Licking my lips, trudged to my room and closed the door. I glanced at my bed but knew there was no point in trying to sleep yet. I stood in the middle of my room as waves of confusion and anger rolled over me and as it threatened to take over me, I noticed my sketch pad lying haphazardly on my bed. My father had always told me I had an anger problem, just like him and had bought me an art pad every year for my birthday.

"Use it to calm you down," he would tell me every time he had given me one, "even just to scribble black circles."

By the time I was in my early teens, and on my eleventh pad, I would half-mockingly roll my eyes and groan.

I picked up my sketch book and a piece of charcoal, cool calmness already licking the hot flames of my fury, and I stepped outside onto my balcony. For a moment, I was still, seated on the outdoor pillow my parents had brought home for me, marvelling at the fact that Gotham was louder at night than it was during the day; the never ending cacophony of sirens raging louder under the dim moonlight.

I sighed as the last of my rage left me and began to draw. I was lost in my concentration and didn't notice the cynical eyes smouldering back at me from my paper.

"What are you drawing?"

"Nothing!" I sputtered, smudging a black thumbprint on the corner of my work. I was caught completely off guard, infuriatingly again by him, and knocked my sketch pad off my knees onto the road below. I jumped up and looked wildly around for him, his low, pleasant sounding voice was something I could never forget. I heard a playful whistle sound from the house opposite me, my focus snapping to the adjacent rooftop where Robin was perched.

"Did you follow me?" I blurted out.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safely," he shrugged. "Looks like you dropped something." I watched, completely mesmerised by the way he jumped elegantly down.

"Wait! Stop, it's nothing important!" I hissed, flashbacks of what I had just drawn appearing in my mind. Unperturbed, Robin sauntered over to my fallen book, taking no notice of my strangled pleas. Dread's icy cold grasp clutched my heart as he picked it up, the book treacherously opening to the exact page I didn't want him to see; a half completed sketch of his face.

"Interesting," I could hear the smile in his voice from my balcony.

"Can I have it back, please?"

He scaled my building with the same grace as earlier and, in no time at all, was standing in front of me, holding my book out, "it's good."

"Thank you," I muttered, snatching it from him.

"So, Blue," his clear eyes twinkled in the moonlight, "where are you from?"

"Everywhere." It was true, I'd never had a fixed address for longer than a couple of months. It was easier to say this than rattle off everywhere I had been.

Robin, seemingly accepting this answer, continued, "What do your parents do for work?"

"Army." Again, the truth but I wasn't being at all specific. No harm no foul, right?

"Have you ever fought before?" He asked, a serious edge to his tone.

"I... wait! That's three questions. I owed you two and I gave you two."

"Ah, but you owe me for the artwork retrieval," he smirked, "which I can always take back. Frame it and hang it on my wall."

"You could try," I goaded him, "you saw what I did to those dropkicks earlier, yeah? That was my first real fight and I'm sure I could do better... I mean, I'd be happy to help jog your memory if you're having a problem remembering."

"First fight, huh?" He rubbed his hand along his jawline. "As tempting as it is to watch your moves again, and believe me it is..." he paused, a devilish glint appearing in his eyes, "I'm needed elsewhere. Rain check?"

"Definitely," I smiled. A tiny, solitary, butterfly began flitting and tumbling in my stomach.

He smiled brightly and jumped backwards off my balcony, gracefully gliding onto the parked motorcycle, I noticed hidden between two houses. Robin revved the engine and sped off into the night, headfirst into whatever danger was awaiting him.

Begrudgingly, I went back inside, placing my sketchbook in my night stand drawer. I wasn't even going to attempt to sleep, not with my heart still racing.

"Workout," I muttered. A workout would get my head straight or at least tired enough to get some rest. Leaving my room, I silently tiptoed downstairs. My parents had not been called out and being now after midnight they'd be asleep.

As I neared the halfway mini platform between the two sets of stairs, I could hear my parents speaking. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I went to turn back had it not been something my mother said that caught my ear.

"She knows something, Harry."

"Relax, Lou. It's been a long day-"

"Don't, Harry." My mother's voice cracked like a whip.

"Okay, okay. What did she say to you exactly?"

"It wasn't what she said," my mother hesitated before continuing, "she had a look, you know? Don't look at me like that! A mother knows, Harry!"

"Mother?" He scoffed. "How would you-" My father's phone began to sound, cutting him immediately off.

"Ma'am," he answered, "Yes, Ma'am. That's an affirmative. The Gatehouse? Yes, Ma'am. That wont be a problem. Consider it handled, Ma'am."

My parents had dropped the earlier conversation and, moving with military precision, they were out the door within two minutes of the call concluding.

I sat on the step, my head reeling from what I had heard.

"I know what...?"