Grayson threw a handful of shipping forms down on the table nearest Barbara. She was pouring herself into a computer screen, nearly oblivious to his presence beside her. Her brow was furrowed as her fingers clicked furiously across the keys. He could sense her frustration climbing with each route she went down leading to a dead end.
"Babs," he sighed her name like he'd done so many times over the years when their leads weren't panning out fast enough for either one. With the adrenaline pumping, it felt like a waste when he couldn't put it to good use by discovering and subsequently detaining the baddie.
She shook her head. Even with just the one word, she knew he was stopping. She couldn't quit though. Not with Frankie still in the hospital. Not with her still unconscious and Barbara not knowing the repercussions of the drug. She might never wake up. Barbara's thoughts jumbled in the back of her mind. Worry danced with paranoia, and frustration tried to cut in, but Barbara tried to stay focussed on her task at hand. She would not give up.
Nightwing's glove rested on her shoulder. She didn't look at Grayson, couldn't manage to look him in the eyes and admit to him and herself that their search was coming to a dead end and without any proof on Crane. She just needed one piece of evidence and she would feel justified. The word of frat boy Greg was not enough for her to go after the Professor.
"Without proof I can't do anything to Crane," Barbara said while still looking straight ahead.
"Do to him? Barbara what exactly do you want to do to him?" Grayson voice was dripping with concern.
"I want him to be punished. I want him arrested. I want him to rot in blackgate." Barbara knew her anger was seeping out as she spat those words through gritted teeth. She saw flashes of her fists meeting Crane's jawline, smashing his bones, breaking his will. She couldn't express to Grayson her true anger, not with the overwhelming urge to violently break Crane. She felt embarrassed that Nightwing was able to step back from the violence, as she started tumbling down in his place. She wanted to tell him her true desires; she figured if anyone would understand how she was feeling, Grayson would be the most empathetic. He'd been in her position multiple times before, felt the rage that was bubbling through her blood. But she held back. Their talk in the hospital led her to believe he would not be on her side.
His hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing her thoughts back to her search.
"Let's find Crane. Get him to talk." His voice was deep; calming.
Barbara let out a sigh. As if this wasn't her plan the whole time.
"And how are you going to find him? I've been searching the lab's computer since we got here and there isn't even a hint of Crane's name on anything."
"I've got my ways." Grayson picked up the shipping receipts he'd dropped on the counter. He had also managed to pocket a vial of green liquid he would get analyzed. He knew she wouldn't rest until she had someone to hold accountable. Her tunnel vision was helpful at times, but tended to veer into obsessive territory if left for too long. Frankie's involvement exacerbated her drive. They needed this ended before she spiralled.
"Bat-tech?"
"Something like that," he smirked. He pulled her up from the stool she was perched on, holding on to her elbow. "Meet me at the safe house in The Narrows. Tomorrow night."
Babs hesitated as they reached the door for two reasons; she was unsure if the guards in the hallway would still be unconscious or awaiting their departure, and she had an instinct Grayson was leaving her out of their mission. She wasn't about to let him scoop up this as a win for him. She wanted in, even if that meant another night of little rest.
Grayson's hand paused as he reached for the door. They both listened in silence. No shuffling, no grunting, nothing but quiet. The guards were still out. He pushed the door open, carefully peeking out in both directions, ensuring the coast was clear. Babs let out the breath she was holding ceremoniously as she walked slowly behind Grayson. Heading to the elevator, she felt her body crying out from the last 72 hours. She leaned against the wall while Grayson reached out to hit the Down button. Her dejected spirit coursed throughout; she felt her muscles contracting, the adrenaline leaving her body with the hope of meeting her bed shortly. Her mind screamed to keep going, but she knew Grayson was leading her home and she felt herself tagging along willingly.
The crisp air touched the small area of exposed skin on her face when they opened the large wooden doors. The early hour meant the campus was still deserted, they were able to walk quietly to Nightwing's bike without passing another person. The campus security guard must have woken; the hiding spot they left him was empty. Probably embarrassed, or out of apathy, he never notified anyone, or checked around for the intruders. Barbara welcomes the laziness of law enforcement most nights; it made her job that much easier.
Starting up the bike, Grayson sensed she was defeated. They spent so much time quickly linking pieces of the puzzle that this stall in momentum crushed her enthusiasm. He also knew she wouldn't give up, but her brain needed rest as much as her body did. Her fingers linked together across his stomach as she clung on to him from behind; even through his armour, he felt her head resting on his back. He took the back roads to her apartment, parking in his usual spot under the fire escape that lead to her bedroom window. He was always curious if she requested that room specifically to give Batgirl an easy exit every night. He felt her slide off the back of his bike as he turned off the engine. When he didn't get off behind her, she turned around quickly. A small smirk escaped his lips; it made him happy to know she wanted him to follow.
"I'm going to hit up my contacts before I get some rest myself. I should hear from them before tomorrow night. We'll meet up, get answers from Crane." Barbara took a step towards Grayson as he spoke. She stood only inches away from him. He could smell her scent, feel the heat coming off her body in the cool air surrounding them. She pulled her cowl off, letting her hand fall down, the purple leather flopping to the ground. Her fiery hair was tussled from the unmasking, he reached out to smooth it down. Her right hand moved up to grab his wrist. He paused, bringing his hand down to cup her face, which looked full of sadness. Her eyes were glistening with tears, but none fell.
"Thank you," she whispered. Grayson clung to her words, so soft and wistful, like they were breath itself. "I know I'm obsessing, but with Frankie-" her voice cracked as tears started dripping onto her cheekbones. She didn't sob, or reach up to wipe away the tears, she just let them fall. Grayson pulled her towards him, a bit awkwardly as he was still straddling the bike. Her arms flung around his neck, and he squeezed her close, his face nuzzled into her mane. He felt her body shake as she took a deep breath, stopping her crying. She pulled away after a moment, her face streaked with glistening tears.
"I'm okay," she said more to herself than to him. She bent down to pick up her cowl. Stuffing it in her belt, she walked the few steps to the fire escape's hanging ladder. She leapt up a few feet, sticking her leg out to push off the brick wall, giving her just enough momentum to reach the bottom rung. She climbed up a few more rungs before she could swing her legs up and ascend the rest of the way. Once she got to the first landing, it was a casual jog up the stairs to her window. Barbara figured it would have been easier for her to walk through the front door, but this seemed more natural while she was wearing her gear; a climb that had become habit from routine.
She was half way in her warm bedroom before she thought to turn around. Nightwing sat below, still on his bike, watching her performance up the metal casing. He didn't look away until she fully entered her room. Once both feet were securely on the floor and she started untying her boots, did she hear the engine start up below her.
She sat on her bed listlessly. Stillness engulfed her. Quiet. She closed her eyes, feeling an ache in her right shoulder blade, a bruise on her left knee. She unzipped her leather jacket, tossing it beside her yellow boots. Her belt unclipped, letting her cowl fall on to the floor by her feet. She flopped on her back, arms folded over her chest. She listened to her breathing. Slowing her mind down was always a difficult task. She thought of Frankie's face masked in terror, of the sour sweat smell pouring off Greg as she held him for questioning, of Grayson's hand, lightly resting on her shoulder.
Her mind lingered on this last thought. He was right. Being Nightwing has given him a new air of restraint. He seemed patient, less impulsive. He soothed her frustrations with his touch, distracted her from compulsive investigating. His head was more level, he was more balanced. As Robin he would have no problem going after Crane without proof. In his black and blue he was thinking more like her dad: a cop. Although, bringing in a suspect and pressing him for information was never outside the realm of action for a GCPD officer. Depending what Grayson dug up on his own, it may very well be her next path. Shine a light on Crane, get him to crack and admit his guilt. Even if she had to go it alone, she would get answers. She would find him and break him.
She was thinking too much again. Barbara took a deep breath, trying to quiet her mind. She slowed her heart rate down, taking long, slow breaths. She listened to the calming beats of her heart as her consciousness drifted away. Her last thought was of Grayson's soft lips on hers. A small smile emerged as she fell asleep.