Ch.6: And Vice-Versa

As the top of the Batmobile opened with a gentle hiss, Batman jumped inside, not waiting for the whole rotation to finish before closing the top again. He sank into his seat with a heavy sigh and pulled his cowl off. Just for a moment, he thought. The night had been a long one thus far. He'd intervened in three robberies, a mugging or attempted murder seemingly every half hour, and Catwoman's newest scheme to nab another cat-themed artifact – and it was still only two in the morning. He had another hour and a half before the criminal underworld would lull to sleep.

He tried not to think about how much time that was or the schemes that could be sent into full gear in an hour and a half. He sat back in his seat, closed his eyes, and started a rotation of breathing techniques, trying to empty his mind of the night's chaos.

He made it about two minutes before the phone rang.

Fighting the urge to scream that bubbled in his throat, Batman pulled on his cowl. As he reached up to tap the 'talk' button, he prayed it wasn't anybody from the Watchtower calling with another end-of-the-world crisis. "Yes?"

"Hey Bats?"

The voice came through strained and cracked, a hair's breadth away from shattering.

"I need some help."

Any hint of wariness fled Batman's body in an instant. He pulled himself up straight in his seat, the car roaring to life under him as his fingers flew over his panel of switches and levers. He slammed on the gas just a moment later, asking with a voice that gave none of his concern away, "What is it? What's wrong?"

A huge sigh on the other end. Batman could imagine Danny raking both hands through his hair with such clarity, it was frightening.

Danny said, "Okay, so, I was walking home from the store, right? And some guy was robbing a bank – the epitome of cliché, you feel me? I mean, you've stopped, what? A dozen of them tonight already? I think I saw a statistic on Gotham's crime rates one time, and holy fuck, does everyone just rob banks? And the banks just let them get away–"

"Stop, Danny," Batman cut off, pressing down on the gas as he accelerated onto the interstate. "Get back on topic. There was a robbery. What did you do when you saw this happening?"

"I just stopped to watch. A bunch of other civilians were already there watching, and I was curious, y'know? But it got boring real fast because nothing was happening, so I snuck over to where the cops were to check out what their techies were doing. And holy fuck, Bats, it looked like no one knew what they were doing! These clowns have some of the shittiest laptops I've ever seen, and their software? Entirely out of date! And at least one of them was new because he was way behind everyone else, and oh my–"

"Focus, Danny." Screeching onto the ramp of a little-known exit, Batman drifted onto the two lane road, his headlights the only ones for miles. "What did you do next?"

"I yelled at them." Batman heard a slap on the other side of the line – a facepalm, probably. "I just couldn't believe what I was watching, and I just lost it on them, calling them stupid and shoving them out of the way. Next thing I know, I've hacked into the security cameras, which have a suspicious level of security on them, but that's not the point because the point is – now everyone's trying to give me orders or ask me if I can do this or that or even asking for my opinion on what we should do next and – and – and I'm not a hero, Bats!" After climbing one octave after another as his panic mounted, Danny's voice finally hit the highest his voice was going to reach, making Batman wince. "I don't know what to tell these people because I don't know what to do! Where are you now? Can you get over here in, like, five minutes? I never thought I'd say this, but I need an adult! I would even take Big Boy Blue if he could–"

"Stop." Batman's foot eased up on the peddle now that he had the full story, though he continued on home anyway. "Right now, I can't get over there, and I know the rest of the Justice League has their own problems to deal with right now." Both lies, but if Danny knew that, then Batman wouldn't be able to get him to do his next idea. "That said, I can try and talk you through what you need to do. Where are you now, and what are you doing?"

"Ugh, I may have stolen one of their laptops and taken refuge under one of their tables…"

Damn. If Danny was retreating so blatantly, he truly had no idea how to handle the situation, which honestly made some sense. After all, Danny usually staged and aided robberies, not stop them. This was a far venture outside of his comfort zone, and with so many others involved on the case, Batman could see how Danny would view the teamwork of a police force as a relinquishment of control – something he was not very fond of doing anyway.

Yet, despite all of this, Batman couldn't help the swell of pride in his chest. Not only was he not running away, but he was also turning to an outside source for help. All of the headaches, the fights, the frustration, the gas money – all of Batman's effort – wasn't for naught. Danny had finally taken his first step towards real change.

Softening his voice, Batman said, "That's fine. We can work with that. First, tell me what you see on the security cameras."

Danny's voice came through quieter, slower, calmer. "Right now, the robbers are just standing around. They've got their loot and are watching their hostages, but honestly? It doesn't seem like they're trying to escape at all. They realize they're surrounded by cops on all sides, right, or do you think they're just that dense?"

A hint of snark. Batman was on the right track with him. With a few more nudges, the Dark Knight knew he could get Danny to see the obvious plot staring him in the face.

As Batman slowed and pulled into the Batcave's secret entrance, he asked, "You say they're just standing around. Do they seem nervous? Are they snapping at each other? Anything that would suggest they thought they would have more time to get away?"

"No, not at all! That's the part I don't get. If I were a human robber surrounded by cops, I'd be sweating bullets, but it looks like they're waiting on their girlfriends to finish pampering before they can go to dinner. Kinda bored."

He was so close to figuring it out, it almost hurt. Batman asked, "Besides their attitudes, does anything else about the scene seem off to you?"

The panic began to creep back into Danny's voice as he said, "No! I mean, I don't think so. They're just three dudes in ski-masks with your run-of-the-mill 9 millimeter handguns. One dude is so bored that he just pulled out his phone to check the time, as if – oh my God."

"What?"

"He pulled out a phone. And before you ask, no, not a burner, but his fucking personal Android. His lock-screen is of – what I am assuming – is his dog. Holy fuck, he did not just break rule one of committing any heist ever."

He was so close. A grin twitched at the corners of Batman's lips as he finally put the Batmobile in park and turned the car off, leaning back in his seat as he finished the conversation. "What does his bringing his phone with him tell you?"

"That he's so broke he can't afford a burner? That he's addicted to his phone? That he's mentally delayed?!" With each question, Danny's voice got a little louder until he was nearly yelling. At least his exasperation was finally starting to overpower his panic.

"About his behavior, Danny. What does it tell you about his behavior? For me, it seems like these guys are actually on the smarter side for having had things go so well this far into the heist but that they lack experience. Foresight. Why do people bring their phones with them?" Batman asked.

"To play pointless games as they ignore the world around them?"

Okay, so the snark was starting to get old again. Batman rubbed his temple. "To be able to get in contact with and to be contacted by others. Who would they be trying to contact, Danny?"

"Oh my God, they have another accomplice. Probably someone to distract the cops while they get away."

Finally, Batman mouthed to his ceiling before saying, "Now you're onto something, Danny. Think you can hack them?"

"I'm offended that you didn't think I wouldn't immediately do that upon seeing something hackable. I'm almost in now." A pause. Then, "I can't believe this fool. Connected to the Dark-Net on his personal phone. What an idiot." Danny scoffed. "Alright, let's see here… Useless, useless, double useless. That's kinda gross. Useless, useless, useless… This would be so much easier from my computers… Aha! Found his accomplices! It looks like one of them did hire a mercenary to hold off the cops while they got away… fuck."

"What? What's the matter?"

Danny gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I don't know how these deadbeats found a way to afford her, but they managed to hire one of the best of the best."

As a list of the most deadly female mercenaries entered his mind, Batman tensed up, preparing to run for the Zeta-Tube as soon as he heard one of their names. "Who'd they hire?"

"Black Thorn."

"Black Thorn."

The name tasted like ash on his tongue. Whatever confidence he'd been able to scrounge up over the last few minutes slipped through his fingers like smoke, dread turning his stomach over like choppy waves in the ocean.

He was dead. Sam was going to kill him for putting her on Batman's radar. Death would be his prize for his cardinal sins of trying to help someone and asking for help.

Reminding him that he was not technically alone, Batman said, voice steady as ever, "I don't recognize the name. How talented is she actually?"

Before he could tell himself not to give away too much, Danny prickled at Batman's underhanded insult to Sam and said, "Give her a few more years, and I'm sure she'll be right up there with Lady Shiva and Deathstroke. As far as I'm aware, she's never failed a mission, no matter the difficulty, and her arsenal and range of skills grows with every hire."

Danny wanted to facepalm, but it was too late. His big mouth had already struck – curse the foul thing. Instead, he opened another tab on his laptop and started spamming Sam's Dark-Net account with phone calls and messages. The phone calls rang and rang, never answered nor silenced. The messages sat unread. She was probably already out in the field, on her way to this site at the very moment.

She would torture him before she killed him. Cut off his dick and feed it to him, probably.

So worried about the number of ways Sam could hurt him, Danny almost missed Batman's next statement.

"Danny, you've got to stop her."

The boy's fingers halted in their incessant spamming of messages. Danny gave the laptop screen in front of him such a bewildered stare, he was sure that Batman could feel it on the other side of the line. "Are you insane? BT would absolutely destroy me. Besides, do I look like a hero to you? That is not my job – that is your job, in fact, so where the fuck are you?"

"Listen, Danny. I am not available to come and bail you out this time. For this once, it's going to have to be your job."

"I repeat: I. Am not. A hero."

"Then don't be you. Be Graveyard."

Honest to God, Danny was dead. He should never have called Batman. The man had to be off his rocker for asking something so ridiculous of him. And Sam? She was going to kill him twice over now, for his putting her on Batman's radar and now getting roped up in trying to stop her. She'd probably rip his ghost half from his human half and torture each separately before finally offing him.

And he would deserve it, just like he deserved the turning of his stomach as he tried to comprehend getting in the spotlight as a hero. The entire Justice League always acted as if doing good was the easiest thing in the world, but was it really? Danny sincerely doubted it. No way in hell did he want to throw himself into something for which he wasn't even remotely prepared.

Raking his hands through his hair, Danny hissed, "You must be fucking insane. Graveyard is me, you dumb fuck."

"Danny, it's no secret that you like to act. You've built an entire underground criminal network, all on an act. Parts of you may be poured into these acts, but in the end, they're still just that: an act. Just use that same principle here. Danny may not be a hero, Phantom may not be a hero, but Graveyard is. He helped to stop a reckless driver in Gotham City, saving countless lives, and now he's in Las Vegas to stop a mercenary from killing police officers and robbers from getting away with their loot."

"You can't bring what happened in Gotham into this conversation. You act as if I was doing that out of the goodness of my heart, but I just wanted to see my friends. Graveyard is just as corrupted as the rest of me, Phantom included," Danny snapped, his heart jackhammering away in his chest. He could feel it all the way in his fingertips, which hovered over the laptop and shook.

"The public doesn't know what, and honestly? I'm not even sure they give a damn your reasons. All anyone really knows or cares about is that you did stop Johnny. You saved lives." Batman let his words hang in the air for a moment, then said, "Now, you need to get out there and do it again."

Danny disconnected the call, ripping his trusty Bluetooth from his ear and throwing it at the floor, where it bounced harmlessly away. He shoved the laptop off his lap too, and it tipped onto its side beside him with a loud CRACK. He paid it no mind as he doubled over, hands clutching his black tresses and breathing fast.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't fuck Sam over like this. He just couldn't. They'd been friends for too long, he respected her too much, and she would literally kill him. She had never killed a single soul in her life and didn't plan to anytime soon, finding that line too hard to cross, but she'd shank him through the heart in half a second if he dared to step on her toes while on a job.

But – he also couldn't let the Dark Knight down either. Despite his every instinct just to throw this whole thing back in Batman's face, show him that Danny wouldn't bend for anyone so easily, he found he… wanted to bend to Batman's will. He wanted to prove he could meet Batman's expectations, even exceed them, and be praised for his actions. He wanted Batman to be proud of him.

Danny hated it. He hated how much he wanted that love and affection. He hated himself for letting himself reach this point, hated that he hadn't managed to get away from Batman before all of this emotional crap came into play, and he definitely hated Batman for ruining his life so completely.

(He didn't. He didn't hate Batman at all, and he didn't know if he could ever hate Batman, not when the Dark Knight had extended so much of his time, effort, and interest.)

For a few minutes, Danny just sat and thought in his hiding place, weighing his options. A month ago, the decision would have been so easy. What mess had he gotten himself into that Batman had become a viable option?

"I can fix this," Danny whispered. The rock of terror sitting at the bottom of his stomach didn't seem so convinced, but he whispered again, trying to convince himself, "I can fix this."

Peeking out from behind the whiteboards and corkboards he'd used to barricade himself under the police department's folding tables, he found no one paying any attention to his hiding spot, other than irritated or worried glances. Safe, Danny called the white ring to his waist, closing his eyes as he felt a cold rise in his chest and travel down his limbs. When he opened his eyes again, they glowed green with determination. He whispered one more time, "I can fix this."

A quick phase out of the police tent later, Graveyard appeared in the sky, the white aura around his body pulsing like a beacon. Twisting in a circle, he scanned the crowd for Black Thorn, trying to make her out in a sea of people crowded around the police barricades below. She should be easy to pick out, he thought. After all, her uniform consisted of a black jumpsuit, knives sheathed to every limb, and a creepy black mask with green lenses – not exactly the most inconspicuous outfit.

However, as it would turn out, it was just inconspicuous enough that he could not find his friend anywhere. He flew up and down the ground numerous times, his presence unnoticed as everyone's attention remained riveted forward. By the time he did find her, naturally, she was no more than fifteen steps away from the open back of an officer trying to calm down a hysterical family member of one of the hostages inside. And did anyone see her coming, big katanas strapped to her back and all? No. No, they did not.

Swearing under his breath, Graveyard shot down like a white comet streaking across the sky, floating right up behind the mercenary as she came within five steps of taking out the cop's leg, her hand already on the handle of one of her katanas.

Graveyard tapped her on the shoulder. Reacting faster than even a startled Batman, she whirled around, drawing the katana. Graveyard watched how, in the span of only a few milliseconds, she began to crouch into a defensive stance, only to jerk back up in surprise at seeing, not only him, but him in a form that she hadn't seen in years.

"Don't kick my ass too much for this," he pleaded, a ruthful grin on his face, right before he shot her in the side with an ecto-blast that sent her flying right between the cop and the hysterical civilian. Graveyard grimaced as both bystanders screamed and jumped back, alerting the whole area of the mercenary in the midst, as well as the serious road-rash Black Thorn would be feeling later.

But he would have to worry about her health later since now he had almost a hundred eyes on their sparring match. As Black Thorn jumped to her feet, no sign of injury, Graveyard cackled and called, "Whoops! That looked like it hurt. How about you come over here, so I can kiss it better?"

If he wasn't dead before, he was definitely dead now. He would be eating his balls by the end of the night for sure.

Black Thorn's eyes narrowed behind her mask. Graveyard couldn't see it, but he could feel his soul withering underneath it. His theory was further confirmed by her bark, "And what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Though his shit-eating grin never wavered, Graveyard said a quick prayer before replying, "Isn't it obvious, sweetheart? I'm stopping you!"

Black Thorn's fists tightened around her one katana while the other pulled the second blade with one quick motion, smooth as silk. Voice grave as the dead, she hissed, "You're dead."

Yeah. Yeah, he knew.

Quick as a bullet, Black Thorn raced forward with a war-cry, raising her katanas as she closed the distance. Yelping, Graveyard began stumbling back, ducking under one swing of her katana after another. So focused on the blades was he, that he completely missed the steel-toed boot coming for his face until it slammed into his jaw, sending him reeling back. He had no time to recover, giving Black Thorn the perfect opportunity to sheath her weapons again, grab his wrist, and dragged her friend – if she would call him such anymore – into a headlock.

Through the haze of spinning colors, Graveyard heard the girl whisper, "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Honestly? I haven't entirely figured it out yet, but when I do, I'll be sure to let you know," Graveyard said before jerking down with all of his weight and sending Black Thorn flying over his shoulder.

She must've guessed his little plan, though, because she landed light on her feet like a cat and pulled the same move as he, sending him sailing right over her shoulder much easier than he did her. He landed hard on his back, knocking the air from his lungs. Unfortunately, he had no chance to recover before he saw a very solid boot coming for his very squashable face. He rolled out of the way with another yelp, then jumped up before Black Thorn could try to mash his face in again. God, he hated how behind he felt while not a single hair had escaped from Black Thorn's perfect fishtail braid, the pursed lips of her mask displeased.

Speaking of which, Black Thorn kept up her brutal assault, aiming a roundhouse kick at his face that Graveyard barely managed to block and to which he would have lost his head. With his hand around her ankle, he jerked her towards him and trapped her arms to her chest, locking them in a strange, volatile hug. Leaning his head close to her ear, he whispered, "Look, if you're worried about payment, remember that all Dark-Net contracts are standardized with a subclause that outside interferences cannot be used as an excuse to withhold payments from hired hands. So, if they try, you are well within your rights to kick their asses and get good ole Phantom involved in tracking down what is yours. Okay? Can you please stop kicking my ass now?"

Black Thorn huffed behind her mask, but it almost looked like the glare of the green lenses softened. Almost. She mumbled to him, "You are so lucky that I love you."

Graveyard breathed a sigh of relief – a mistake on his part. His relaxing muscles provided the slightest bit of slack, which allowed Black Thorn to drop out of his death-hug, spin around in a blink of an eye, and slam her fist into Graveyard's nose. Graveyard reeled back with a yell, a sticky, green substance gushing between his fingers. Eyes watering, he screamed, "Holy hell, bitch! That hurts like a motherfucker!"

"Aw, the poor baby can't take a little payback? How cute." Black Thorn backed away from her bleeding freed, cackling under her breath. She slid her hands along the edge of her bulky belt, feeling for something. "I'd love to stick around and see your tantrum, but I've got places to be, money to collect. If you're lucky, though, maybe you'll see me again soon." Black Thorn pulled a black sphere from her belt and gave a little wave. "Until then, toodles."

Without further ado, Black Thorn threw the sphere against the ground. A cloud of gas released, obscuring Black Thorn and everything within a ten-foot diameter of her. When it cleared a second later, every trace of her had disappeared.

Graveyard gave a sigh of relief, then grimaced as his nose throbbed and thick ectoplasm dripped off his chin. Touching his nose, he couldn't feel a break – Black Thorn's one and only gift. She'd probably take it back later, but for now, he closed his eyes and rerouted the majority of his energy to healing his nose.

Having successfully done that, Graveyard opened his eyes. Breathing through his mouth, the teen boy glanced towards the crowd spread out before him. The vast majority of the civilians had been smart enough to run no less than thirty feet away from the battle, leaving mostly cops nearby to serve as a line of protection to them. Yet, close or far, Graveyard could see everyone's matching expression: a strange mix of uncertainty and hope. He understood the first. The second, however, unnerved him greatly.

Without a word, Graveyard turned invisible, sending startled gasps throughout the crowd. He didn't stick around to hear the whispers infect the crowd; instead, he flew back to the police tents and grabbed his groceries, then booked it back to his apartment in his cloak of invisibility.

As he phased into his apartment, Graveyard dropped his bags and called the white ring to his waist to turn him back to Danny. Stumbling to his kitchen, he ripped paper towel after paper towel from its roll and pressed it to his gushing nose. He swore under his breath as he looked down at his shirt. The plain white tee had a growing red spot right in the middle of his chest.

Shaking his head, he cradled his nose and walked back to his favorite chair. He collapsed and, for a few minutes, he just sat and chilled, occasionally checking the pace of his bleeding nose. It slowed, slowed, slowed, and after his day, he found his eyelids drooping lower, lower, lower. He should call Sam, see how it went with her clients, but he could take a quick nap first, right? Yeah. He thought he could do that.

Leaning his head back, Danny allowed his eyes to close and willed the sweet arms of sleep to–

BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP.

–or not.

Moaning, Danny turned to his flashing hologram screens and pulled his Bluetooth piece from his pocket, sticking it in his ear. Accepting the video-call, he snapped, "What?"

"I see you're back to normal after your near mental collapse forty-five minutes ago." Batman smirked on his side of the screen and leaned back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his other knee. It was and would probably be the most relaxed Danny had ever seen him.

Instead of basking in the moment, Danny checked his bloody paper towel, noticed no new stains, and threw it away. "Oh, well, I'm so glad that my psychological well-being is so high on your list of priorities."

"Of course. Arkham is crowded enough as it is. The doctors don't need any more patients." The smirk never died. If Batman noticed the fiery glare Danny was giving him, which was even more brutal with the red staining his mouth and chin, he gave no indication of it. "So, how did fighting Black Thorn go?"

A loaded question. The bastard.

Danny pointed to his face. "How do you think it went?" Danny groaned and fell back in his seat, hiding his face behind his hands. "Long story short, she handed my ass to me. Definitely got away. I think I heard on my way out that the cops got the robbers and no hostages were harmed? I at least didn't hear anybody get shot while I was there." Looking up from his hands, Danny gave the most exhausted look Batman had ever seen on him, "Honestly, I'm a little surprised that I'm not dead."

He really wasn't, of course. Sam wouldn't kill anyone. Maim and disfigure them for life? Sure. But in their few emotional discussions, Sam had admitted that she didn't know if she ever would kill someone – something that would keep her from going bigtime but would allow her to sleep at night.

"From what I hear on the news, your story matches what happened. The cops were able to capture the robbers, all hostages were rescued without injury, and according to the cops, Black Thorn wiped the floor with you easy." Batman's smirk got the teensiest bit wider, just as Danny's frown deepened. "But even still, I would say that you did a great job - a sentiment that the rest of Las Vegas shares. They're already calling for the name of their new hero."

"Ohhh, no. No, no, no. I am not making another appearance as Graveyard." Danny rose from his chair and began to pace back and forth between his tables. "I don't care what you say, but jumping into action like that just isn't my style. If you want me to keep tracking people down and fucking with them, I will, but I will do it from behind the computer, where they can't give me bloody noses, okay?"

If Batman was disappointed, he didn't show it. He nodded and said, "And that's perfectly alright. Fighting on the street like that isn't for everybody, and that's okay. Just know that you did an excellent job tonight, Danny."

Danny stopped his pacing and ducked his head, hiding the blush that crept up his cheeks and the smile twitching at his lips. Warmth flooded his chest in a way he couldn't ever remember it doing before. A new energy buzzed in his veins. He thought he could fly to the moon and back, running on nothing but this indescribable joy.

It lasted a fraction of a second. Sam's face flashed through his mind, the countless nights they had played Doomed with Tucker when they wanted nothing to do with real life anymore, and even worse, that fury he could feel from her tonight – every ounce directed at him. Which he deserved one hundred percent. How could he feel like he did something good? How could he feel joy when he had completely ruined her mission?

"Danny?"

"Thanks for all your help tonight, Bats. I appreciate it," Danny said, then hung up as fast as he could. He collapsed back into his chair, pressing his hands into his temples. His shoulders shook with his warring emotions, and to his empty apartment, he said, "God, Sam should've just killed me. I would've deserved it."

He still deserved it, but Sam wouldn't be killing him anytime soon. Sighing, Danny sat up and turned back to his computers, where he began to work like a madman on the Dark-Net, checking in on the backlog of recommendations that Tucker had been sending to him over the last few days. He promised to deal with his emotions later, to work out his guilt from his joy and why he was even joyful at all, but deep down, he knew he was lying to himself. There would never be a true moment of working out his emotions. There would only ever be the Dark-Net, distracting and all-consuming.

An hour later, Danny heard the window open behind him. He didn't bother to turn around. It was probably just Batman, either with a job or questions about why he had hung up so fast. He didn't want to deal with either right now. Maybe if he just ignored him, he would go away.

"First, you fuck up my mission. Second, you don't even say hello? What kind of shit friend are you?"

Danny's heart sunk to his stomach, but he plastered a cool smile on his face and spun around to see Sam, no longer in her uniform but simple black leggings and a sweatshirt. "Oh, you know, the worst kind, but it's not like you didn't know that when you picked me up from the clearance aisle."

Normally, such a remark would make Sam chuckle, if not laugh. Today, she just dropped her duffel to the floor, crossed her arms over her chest, and wandered closer with heavy, pointed steps. She stopped right in front of him, so close that their knees almost touched, and gave him The Look – the one that came after her explosive fury, the one that marked the cold anger that simmered just below her skin, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

She didn't say a word, but Danny understood anyway. His smile dropped, and his shoulders sunk. He reached to grab her hand but thought better of it halfway there. His hand dropped lifelessly into his lap, as well as his gaze.

"Forgive me?" he whispered.

Her voice came out cold. "Why should I?"

"Honestly? You shouldn't. I wouldn't if I were you. I probably ruined your career." Danny dared a peek up at Sam but found no change in her expression. "It's just – I somehow got involved in the robbery. I panicked. I called Batman for help, and before it was too late, I was being encouraged to stop you. And it's not like I could tell him 'no.' He's looking for any chance to ship me off to Blackgate, and I just didn't want to deal with that hassle."

Lie. Big lie. Prison had never once crossed his mind tonight, and neither did it pass through Batman's, Danny was sure. He had wanted his approval, just like he wanted it now if it were not for the disappointment rolling off Sam's tense figure.

Speaking of the girl, she kept quiet after hearing his explanation, mulling over his story and letting him soak in his misery. But Danny finally heard her sigh, and her hand came to raise his chin, so she could see his face entirely. She searched his face for a moment and must have found whatever she wanted. Sighing, she dropped her remaining arm from her chest. "I believe you, and I understand."

Danny felt a twinge of relief in his chest.

"But," she said, as if she could his emotions. "It might take me four to six business months to actually forgive you. Alright?"

A joke. She'd made a joke. True to her word, she may not have entirely forgiven him, but she wasn't cutting him off. She wasn't abandoning him, and for that, Danny felt the worst of his anxiety fall from his body. Smiling, Danny said, "I mean, that's fair. Just let me know if I need to resubmit another application for your friendship."

Sam chuckled, a sound Danny had never found more soothing. Like she always did, Sam sank into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Danny leaned back to give her more room, grinning at her all the while, and Sam said, "I'll be sure to do so. However, this is not the only reason I came by."

"Oh? What do you need?"

"Despite their signatures sitting on the dotted line of the contract, one of my employers called the guy holding my share of the money and have told him not to pay me because – y'know – they got caught." As she explained, Sam got cozy in his lap – really, the only seat in the apartment. Once settled, she gave him a look. "Figured you knew the best way to get ahold of my cash. And if you get it into my account in the next fifteen minutes, then maybe I'll be feeling generous to shave some time off those four to six months."

Danny smirked and spun them around to the computer, hands twitching with excitement. "For every minute that I stay under fifteen minutes, I want a month off that process."

"Deal."