A/N: Ages of major characters:

Batfamily:

Dick Grayson (Nightwing): 21...Barbara Gordon (Batgirl): 21

Jason Todd (Robin): 17...Tim Drake (Red Robin): 15

The Titans: Donna Troy (Troia): 22...Koriand'r (Starfire): 21

Garth (Tempest): 23...Raquel Ervin (Rocket): 23

Vic Stone (Cyborg): 21...Jade Nguyen (Cheshire): 26

Kara Zor-El (Supergirl): 18...Garfield "Gar" Logan (Beast Boy): 15

Roy Harper (Speedy): 18...Karen Beecher (Bumblebee): 23

Bart Allen (Impulse): 15...Jaime Reyes (Blue Beetle): 18

Virgil Hawkins (Static): 17

Titans Dark:

Zatanna Zatara: 22...Lilith (Omen): 20

Billy Batson (Captain Marvel): 17...Rachel Roth/ Raven (Dr. Fate): 15

Tula: 23...John Constantine: No one asks and he ain't telling (38)

Other Heroes:

Will Harper (Red Arrow): 25

Welcome Back to Gotham, everyone! (Also, lol, writing this gave me definite Clue vibes)

ooooooo

"-already being named as the biggest charity event of the decade with invites going for upwards of-"

Click.

"-construction of Exit 38 towards Bludhaven is finally underway after the five car pile-up from the Mad Hatter's last-"

Click.

"-with the New Year's event everyone's talking about, the Gala at the Wayne-"

Click.

"-reporters already around the block as celebrities, local heroes, diplomats, socialites and philanthropists, all start to arrive at the first Wayne event since the Invasion eight-"

"You've gotta be shitting me!"

The remote slams down on the bar counter, startling the bar's one patron, who appears to be half passed out in his cup. The man glares up, rubbing his head. "The shit you on about now, Mickey! I'm over here, trying to enjoy this piss you call booze and you try to blow up my frickin' ear drums!"

"Oh, shut up," shoots back Mickey O'Brien, the long time owner of one of the oldest and….most colorful bars in the Narrows. "You want to complain, Phil, you can pay up for the last three drinks you owe me."

Phil grumbles; but, obligingly doesn't lodge a further complaint.

"It's frickin' New Year's Eve and all any of these dumbass news stations want to talk about is traffic or the very, very important Wayne Gala!" Mickie rolls his eyes. "As if anyone south of Gates Bridge could give a shit about what those rich assholes want to get oiled up and hire their best hookers for!"

There's a snicker from the young man behind the bar, scrubbing down the bottles.

"And you!" Mickey points back to the young man. "They're bottles, kid, not the family jewels! Quit rubbing 'em and find us something to watch!"

He throws the remote back blindly, only for the young man to snatch it out of the air and answer back with a lazy salute. "Got it, sir."

"Sir," Micky smiles smugly, "hear that, Phil, kid calls me 'sir.'"

"Must be new," Phil mutters, knocking back the rest of his drink. "You don't pay enough to get no 'sirs'."

"Nah," Micky shakes his head. "Robbie here's a Narrows' legacy. Should have seen his old man! Ol' Matches was one of the sorriest sons of bitches I ever laid my eyes on. Hard to believe even the Invasion could get him. Right, kid?"

The young man just smiles, a tiny bit wistful and continues clicking through the channels.

"Find me one where I can watch the ball drop downtown," Phil orders.

The young man nods. "GBS has got the one out of Metropolis?"

"Metropolis?" Mickey reaches out and thumps the young man's ratty baseball cap with Gotham Knights embossed on the brim. "What side you on, kid?"

The kid laughs. "Good point, besides they still got the Garrick interview on for the next few hours."

"Ugh, Garrick," Phil takes the liberty of pouring himself his next drink. "Only thing worse than the frickin' Titans is the JSA."

Mickey snorts, grabbing a toothpick to chew on. "What like you're a fan of the heroes now?"

"Piss off," Phil tips back his drink. "Like them more than the aliens, thanks!"

"Superman was an alien," the young man comments idly, "So was Martian Manhunter, I think. I heard Starfire and Supergirl are, too, and they stopped the attack last year. Aliens can't all be that bad if they're helping us, if they're heroes, I mean."

"If it even was an attack, all the rest of us saw was a ship dropping out of the sky and the sun going black and, then, we get the Titans telling us that everything's fine again." Mickey chews on his toothpick. "Maybe Garrick's got a point. Not sure how much we should be trusting kids when it comes to all the space shit. What, oldest of 'em are probably about the same age as Robbie over here." He punches the kid in the shoulder.

"What? You gonna do it then?" Phil kicks out at Mickey's shin. "Mickey O'Brien, Earth's secret weapon and worst bar owner in Gotham! Or you want the politicians to argue over it? Least the Titans kids get shit done."

Mickey's smile went sharp. "Will give them that. Titans are real good for getting our bats and birds out of town for a bit."

"And, now, we're back to business." Phil leans in, still nursing his beer. "What you know?"

"Know Ivy and Two-Face are looking to recruit again," Mickey considers. "And Scarecrow; but, ain't no one I know that crazy yet."

"Got some guys that might be." Phil rubs at his chin. "Penguin pays better, though."

"Yeah." Mickey throws his head back. "Oi, Robbie, finish that crap up and head on out! You're too young to be spending New Year's Eve in a pisspot like this!"

The young man finally stops on a channel, where a newscaster stands in front of Gotham's downtown center-a gold ball, printed with bats held at the top of Wayne Tower.

Robbie Malone, son of Matches Malone and by far Dick's most useful cover, grins back from under a baseball cap and careful disguise work.

"I don't mind staying another hour or so," Dick assures pleasantly.

ooooooo

The baseball cap spins as Dick tosses it on the rack in the batcave.

"Two-Face is looking at getting in two new shipment on the second next month, Poison Ivy's working on setting up a new lab east of Robinson Park, and Penguin's looking for muscle for his new club….which isn't technically illegal but judging by the fact that the other requirement is drug running, it's only a matter of time." Dick falls back in the computer chairs with a satisfied grin. "And Scarecrow's recruiting; but, no takers quite yet. Let's make sure half the gala money goes to the city's new rebuilding program so we can keep it that way."

He stretches back, folding his hands behind his head and propping his legs on the desk. "Not bad for Robbie's two hour gig."

"Yeah, yeah, nice work, not near my computer." Tim knocks his legs off the desk. "Also, you're late. Party starts in ten minutes."

"One, our computer," Dick stands to ruffle his hair. "Two, nah, I'm still early. Bruce always showed up to these things an hour late, compared to that, I'm practically punctual!"

"Still gotta meet with reporters." Jason smirks.

"Bleh." Dick fakes a gag, swinging off to put up the rest of his Robbie attire. He eyes his brothers. "Also, hey, if you think I'm late, why are you two still hiding out in the cave? Go get ready."

Tim groans, head hitting the table. "Do we have to?"

"Unfortunately."

"What if only one of us showed up," Tim gave his best puppy dog eyes which are….admittedly a little bit weaker on a fifteen year old compared to twelve. Dick decides not to tell him. "One would be enough right? What if me and Jason just….hid in the attic or something."

Dick rolls his eyes. "No."

"But, why?"

"Because misery loves company and I'm a horrible monster intent on ruining your night."

Tim huffs.

Dick slings on a fresh shirt, leaning against the clothes shelves. "You know why. Because it's been eight years since the last Wayne event and there's only so much Alfred can do to hold back the press. Do you know how many reporters we caught trying to sneak on the grounds the last two months? Five. They're getting insane about it, I swear."

"Let's put in a moat," Jason suggests dryly. "With sharks."

"And snakes," Tim adds.

"They'd build a bridge," Dick says. "At least this way we control how much we give them and where. Besides," he slumps, "you two just have to deal with the gala, I got the interviews."

Jason snickers. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

"Your sympathy is noted, Jay." Dick points. "Go get ready."

Tim gives one last groan, trudging up the stairs like a man to the guillotine. Jason waits just a little bit behind.

"So, the Robbie Malone cover? They still bought it?" Jason asks, a note of something else behind the question.

Dick smiles softly. "Yeah. It's tradition, you know, nothing like a cover old enough they can trace it back."

"I was thinking…," Jason scrubs a hand through his hair, "wouldn't hurt to expand it a little. Robbie gets a younger cousin or something." He pauses. "Narrows is still my home turf kind of, bet I could scrape up some new contacts."

"Too risky." Dick shakes his head. "Even with contacts, makeup, and a wig, you never know how much people are going to remember about you, especially that close to your old home. Let's give it a few years."

"Better to start younger." Jason rolls his eyes. "Also, come on, it's been nearly four years. No one in that shithole's going to remember another scrawny, underfed thirteen year old orphan, even one that got picked up into the Waynes."

Dick stops suddenly on the stairs.

Four years?

He looks up and, then, with the sudden realization, that he is looking up-that where Jason is a stair ahead, he's taller than him, nearly Dick's height even when they're level.

….because Jason's seventeen, eighteen in August, his little brother's almost legally an adult and that's….

For the first time, Dick is struck by the thought that Jason just might grow to be taller than him, probably within the year.

Unaware of Dick's internal reconciliation of how the world's supposed to work, Jason just stares at him. "What?"

"...Nothing." Dick shakes his head. "You're right, I think it's about time Robbie gets a little cousin. Let's start you out in Burnside, though, work you back into the Narrows slowly just in case."

Jason shrugs in apparent agreement, turning away but not before Dick catches the small smile he's trying to tuck away.

They reach the top of the stairs, back into the manor.

"Hey, Littlewing."

Jason huffs. "What."

Dick pulls him into a half hug just for a second before Jason's already pushing away.

"Ugh," Jason complains, "why are you so weird!"

"Because you hate it." Dick laughs, already skipping backwards to doge Jason's swipe.

He heads to the relative safety of his own room before pulling out the specialized comm device, roughly the size of his entire hand and crosses his fingers while he hopes for it to connect.

Finally the picture fizzles in, lined with static and composed in grey scale and utterly gorgeous.

Dick feels his smile going dopey. "Hey."

"Hello, mel klexh," the buzz of Kory's voice greets him as she smiles back from a few galaxies away.

"You look beautiful tonight," Dick says, trying to get a gauge for the scenery behind her, "or….today?"

"Day," Kory confirms, grin widening, "but you say that every day."

"So, you must always be beautiful," Dick says.

Even over the static and tin sound of the comm, Kory's laugh is still one of the greatest sounds Dick can imagine. Like nothing has changed even though there's a few thousand light years between them and Jason's almost as tall as him.

"You look like you are in the middle of a deep thought," she observes.

Dick flops down on his bed with force, accidentally shaking the room's security camera which he ignores in favor of bringing the comm to hold above him. "Jason's seventeen."

Kory laughs again. "Yes; but, I was fairly sure he was when we talked last week as well."

"And Tim's fifteen." Dick rubs a hand down his face, a new thought occurring. "Oh crap. Kory, what if Tim gets taller than me, too! He's supposed to be the baby; he can't be taller. I won't let him." Dick practically pouts. "Why are my brothers turning out to giants?"

Kory's grin could light space stations and Dick can only imagine that, surrounded by the flora of Tamaran around her, it's even brighter than the orange sky or the planet's violet moon.

"I think you still have a few years until you have to worry," she teases.

"I thought that about Jason, too." He turns his head on his pillow and, like that, he can almost imagine she's lying beside him like usual. "How's the post-coronation going?"

"...Decently," Kory says in a tone that says that's far from the first word she'd like to use. "Ryand'r has always been more….tolerant, I suppose, at smoothing the feathers of aggravating senators. It is a shame he is still busy with preparation for Komand'r's trial."

"I'm sure you're doing alright even on your own," Dick says.

"For now." Her mouth quirks up in amusement. "It is a shame I cannot merely challenge them to a duel. I could be back on Earth a month ago, even with negotiating an intergalactic alliance for the Titans."

Dick's eyes go soft. "A shame."

Kory smiles back. "I miss you, mel klexh."

"And I miss you," Dick answers back.

The transmission is interrupted by a sudden burst of static before it can refocus back on the video.

Kory sighs. "That is probably our cue, is it not?"

"Transmission lasted longer this time," Dick agrees wistfully.

"Me kamav tut," she says in his first language and Dick loves her even more for it.

"Elu lilhmon mwiln," answers Dick in Tamaran.

I love you.

"Show those senators who's boss." Dick winks. "I'll go handle the reporters."

Kory's wide smile is the last thing he sees before the transmission finally gives up into static.

Dick stands up and stretches, facing his closet.

In a way, he guesses it's kind of funny that a tux and bow tie feel more like battle armor than his Nightwing suit.

ooooooo

Dick stares at the door like it's a portal to a dark dimension….actually, considering Dick has stared at portals to dark dimensions and Raven was perfectly wonderful, creepy cloak and all, Dick stares at the door worse than he stares at dark dimension portals.

Tim pats his back solemnly, which Dick might have even believed if Tim's face isn't the definition of schadenfreude. "I'll remember you fondly."

"Thanks," Dick mutters. "Was going to tell you later; but, just in case, Tim, you get Wayne Enterprise in the will."

Tim scoffs in mock offense. "Well, duh, like you were going to leave it to Jason!"

"Hey!" Jason glared.

Tim stuck out his tongue. "What? You'd drive the stocks into the ground in a week or….or, I don't even know, turn the building into a library or a bike park or something!"

"How are either of those bad," Jason shot back before he shoved Dick forward. "Now, stop procrastinating and get out there! It's basically your family job!"

"My family job's to get mauled by reporters," Dick complains.

"Yep!" Jason smirks. "That's how it works! Timbo there is the kid genius that everyone probably thinks is lame and boring, I'm the cool family rebel you plucked off the street, and you're the one with the face. So, go take some pictures and smile like an idiot!"

"I object to like half of the things you just said," Tim says.

"I don't know, Timmy, maybe he got a point." Dick smiles. "In fact, maybe you want to be our new PR coordinator. Huh, Jay?"

"Don't even dare." Then, Jason pushes him again and Dick finally sighs and obliges.

"See you on the other side," he grumbles; but, Tim and Jason are already abandoning him for the safety of the manor.

Dick throws open the doors and grins like there's absolutely nothing else he'd rather be doing.

At once, a hundred lights near blind him and, even raised under the headlights of a circus, Dick uses everything not to wince away.

"Hey, guys," he calls out, "welcome to the party!"

"Mr. Grayson!" "Dick!" "One question over here!" "Dick Grayson!" "Oh, Dickie, over here!"

Dick chooses the last one because, honestly, if he has to hear a reporter call him "Dickie" one more time, he's not going to be able to do this.

A reporter, coiled black hair and a smile like a viper, shoves the mic in his face. "New Gotham Style here, is it true you're here with a date?"

Dick smiles. "Wouldn't be much of a gala if I wasn't."

The glint in her eyes is nearly predatory. "I'm sure you're aware of your late guardian Bruce Wayne's, well, more….frequent appearances in night life."

He laughs. "Is that a question?"

The reporter's smile grows. "I suppose not. It's been noted that you also have been seen with a growing number of dates of different genders."

Dick hums, waiting for the question.

The reporter's eyes almost light up. "Would your current date happen to be the mysterious girlfriend that our sources confirmed last month?"

"Hmm, may want to check your sources, I've been seeing someone for over a year." He makes sure his grin is lazy and unbothered as over a dozen cameras suddenly go wild. "But, to answer your question, no, a close friend of ours agreed to be my date for tonight."

The reporter all but pouts, trying to rally. "Is there a reason your partner's not-"

"Yes," Dick confirms. "She's out of town. Now, I think it's time for the next question, please?"

A man with a smarmy grin and slick backed hair steps forward. "Mr. Grayson, can you confirm your upcoming graduation from Gotham University?"

"Yes, this spring." Dick smiles. "And, before you ask, I'm double majoring in political science and communication."

The man leaps at the opening. "Not business?"

"A minor," Dick says.

The mic pushes up. "Are the rumors true that you're taking up the Wayne seat on the Wayne Enterprise Board of Directors soon?"

"That'll be a decision with me, my family, and the board," Dick side steps smoothly, "but, I can assure you the Wayne legacy will always continue to be felt at Wayne Enterprise."

Another reporter narrows his eyes. "And would you consider yourself part of that legacy, Mr. Grayson?"

"Bruce did," he says simply.

There's a murmur throughout the crowd.

"Dick," Vicki Vale steps forward and Dick almost sighs at the familiarity even as her eyes are sharp as ever as she shoves her mic forward….this is why she was never Dick's favorite of Bruce's girlfriends, "I'm sure it's the question on everyone's mind; but, is there a reason the Wayne family has decided to hold an event now for the first time since the Invasion eight years ago?"

Dick does sigh this time before he meets her stare directly and answers as honestly as he can.

"It was time."

There's another rustle throughout the crowd, cameras going off.

"We all lost people that day," Dick continues, "Our family. Our friends. Even the League. But, that doesn't mean we can stop moving forward even as we never forget how their sacrifice defines our future." His smile returns. "That's why Wayne Enterprises is continually proud to support the Titans."

A reporter near the back pushes his way forward. "So, Wayne Enterprise is officially not supporting Jay Garrick and the JSA's recent statements that more control is needed for the Titans."

Dick's smile thins. "A hero's defined by their actions, not by the excuses people give them not to act."

There's a sudden pause through the crowd and Dick pulls back, grin going back wide and tilting his head to try to appear as the laid back and charming Wayne heir.

The face, Dick thinks wryly

He looks back at the reporters. "You know people also told Bruce he was too young and irresponsible when he adopted me. But, there isn't a day that goes by that I'm not glad he did. "

There are a few sympathetic noises from the assembled and Dick can feel the mood lightening around him.

A kind reporter, bushy red hair and sensible jacket that Dick recognizes from the Gotham Gazettes' life section, comes next. "Speaking about your adoption, Mr. Grayson, how do you feel about Haly's Circus returning to Gotham on their new tour?"

For once, Dick's smile is genuine. "I'm very excited to see the return of one of the greatest circuses in the country." He turns to the crowd. "I'll admit I'm biased; but, everyone should definitely try to see them if they get the chance. I can promise I'm dragging both my brothers down first night they're open"

"Will you be performing," another reporter calls out.

Dick laughs. "I think I'm a few years out of shape to try the trapeze again. I'll leave it to the professionals."

"You don't look out of shape." A reporter twice his age winks up at him, giving him a blatantly hungry look. Ew.

He squints down at her. Actually, she's kind of familiar. Dick's pretty sure she dated Bruce once. So, double ew.

"Thanks," Dick says shortly. "Now, sorry, guys, I've got to get back to the actual party I'm supposed to be throwing. Happy New Years Eve, everyone!"

He waves as he retreats back to the manor, ignoring the last few calls for questions.

He waits until the doors are sealed shut behind him before finally giving into a groan, tipping his head back against the wood.

"Poor baby," his date for the night mocks him.

Dick squints open an eye. "New dress?"

"Raquel lent it to me," Donna announces, sounding absolutely pleased as she peels Dick back from the door and links her arm with his, "it's the same dress she wore to your Wayne thing last April, I'm hoping it causes rumors!"

"You troll," Dick accuses fondly.

It is a sad truth in the life of Dick Grayson that, as he gets older, there's apparently more and more galas and parties and Wayne Enterprise events that either Alfred or the Board absolutely insist he can't miss out on. Kory hates them as much as he does and, half the time, Babs has her own role to manage as Commissioner's daughter; but, he does normally manage to beg, er, talk at least someone into throwing on a disguise and coming as his date. So far the list includes Donna, Lilith, a heavily disguised Vic, Raquel, Karen and Mal, Tula, Kara, Jaime, Zatanna, and one very memorable time Garth. Of that list, half of them swore never again after the first one, four of them punched a reporter, and two made the international news.

Unsurprisingly, Donna is the only one who actually enjoys going and that was mainly so she can purposefully annoy the tabloids.

"This is going to be so boring," Dick groans through the grin he's plastered on as Donna drags him to the main ballroom.

"Find the bright side," Donna says with relish, probably already thinking of half a dozen ways she can confuse stuck up socialites.

Dick thinks for a second. "Well, this is Gotham, so the bright side is there's a greater than fifty percent chance this gala will be held hostage."

Donna laughs. "How's that a bright side?"

"I get to leave early."

"Hush, you, this is my fun night," she bops his nose, "stop trying to jinx it."

"What? Why wasn't the Titans party last night your fun night," Dick whispers back.

"They're all my fun nights," Donna says tilting her chin up like she's imparting great wisdom. "It's my joie de vivre, I make every night a fun night." She grins up at him. "Was good to see Zatanna and Lilith again, though."

"Yeah," Dick agrees, smiling, "Billy and Rachel seem to be fitting in already."

"Did you see how they kept hanging on Constantine?" Donna snickers. "I swear, the sad eyes every time he tried to light a cigarette, they're menaces!"

Dick snorts. "Good, he deserves it."

"Ready for this," Donna asks, stopping just at the top of the stairs.

He loops his arm around her waist, pulling her into a quick hug. "Into the breach, my lady."

Together, they descend the stairs and immediately Dick is pulled into the slog of being called from one side of the ballroom to the other, shaking hands and making the appropriate smiles.

The thing about galas that Dick hates isn't actually the people, it never is. Sure, there are a fair share of assholes and slimy smiles whispering barely hidden insults or, worse, obviously fake compliments. But, honestly, Dick is fairly well practiced at dealing with assholes by now and, even here, there are the ones worth fighting for-the ones like Commissioner Gordon, laughing at the way Detective Bullock still can't stop pulling at his collar, the ones scattered in with all the others to talk about how genuinely they could make things better. Those Dick loves, the ones he wishes the galas could just be about.

Dick grew up learning the gestures and movements of how to make an audience smile, to laugh, to gasp in awe, to clap, and-most importantly-to come back for more. Then, he was taken in by Bruce and he learned the darker side as well, how to make people wince, to run, to talk, to fear, and-most importantly-to never come back for more.

Dick knows how to work from behind trapeze and masks and disguises and, in some ways, he supposes those all just come back to him.

Somehow, it still never feels comfortable to work from behind his own face and pretend this is all he is. It's the only time he feels like a lie.

It helps to not be alone.

"So, you and your….brother," the man let's the word slide out like it should somehow be an insult, "your parents gave you both the same name?"

"Of course not!" Will tips back his champagne and grins blithely like the true heir to the Queen family fortune. "That would be ridiculous!"

"So….," the mans' brow suddenly scrunches up, looking between Will and where Roy is snickering with Jason as they chat with Donna in the corner.

"See, technically my full name is Roy William Harper, Jr.," Will continues and Dick can already feel the incoming bullshit, "my little brother's name is William Roy Harper, Jr. We just thought it would be more fun if we swapped, you know?"

"How can you both be junior," a younger man blurts out.

"That's ridiculous," the first man shouts.

"Rich people." Will shrugs, finishing off his champagne. "What you gonna do?"

Dick hides his smile in a glass and hurriedly looks away to stop from laughing at the annoyed befuddlement on the two men's faces, conflicted on whether they should be offended or not.

There was a hum from an older man that Dick vaguely thought might be one of Bruce's third cousins from the Kane side, the one with a side business in….diamonds, maybe? Planes?

The diamond-planes-possibly-a-cousin man glances around the room. "And, Mr. Harper, I take it your wife won't be joining us tonight?"

Dick almost chokes on his drink at the thought of Jade anywhere close to this party with its very easy access to knives and very plentiful reserve of people he's sure would annoy her. There's a good reason Jade's one of the people he has not asked to be his date, other than the fear she'd poison him for even trying.

"No, I afraid not," Will sighs, looking to the windows, "my wonderful wife's just too shy for parties, really. This many people? She'd hate it, be nervous to leave the entire time. Delicate wallflower, she is. Love her dearly, of course."

Dick gives him a look and Will just smirks.

The man makes a noise of bored sympathy. "And what does your wife do exactly?"

"She's a professional coupon clipper," Will says with a straight face. "How do you think we got all this money?"

Dick can't help it, he inhales his drink so fast it goes up his nose and, then, he's bending over coughing while Will oh so "helpfully" pats his back.

"Man down." Will grins. "'Scuse us, fellas, seems serious."

Will pulls him just far enough away before laughing at Dick's face. "Knew the last one would get you."

Dick punches his shoulder. "I hate you."

"I'm the worst," Will says happily. "You know I think Donna's got the right idea about these things, it's so much more fun to screw with people."

"You know," Dick says, "one day Jade's actually going to show up to one of these things and then, you'll be screwed."

Will snorts. "Won't be a problem."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely." Will holds up his empty glass in a cheer. "Because if my dear, lovely wife does ever show up to one of these parties, I can guarantee that several of these assholes won't be leaving it alive. Problem solved."

Dick laughs. "For you, maybe."

Will winks before digging into his pocket and pulling out a folded paper. "Oh, by the way, Lian made you a card."

He unfolds it and they both lean over to squint at the blue blob with streaks of yellow in the middle of it.

Will scratches his chin. "Yeah, I think it's a bird...or maybe a heart?"

"I'll cherish it forever." Dick grins, carefully folding it to put it back in his pocket.

Will's smile goes dopey. "Isn't it great? My little girl's going to be an artist!"

"Already more artistic talent than you." Dick dodges Will's swipe, leaning back as he catches a flash of long black hair and a dark purple dress in the corner of his vision.

He stops, the memory slides away as he continues to try to find the woman through the crowd.

"Dick?"

"Thought I saw someone familiar," Dick says.

"Familiar in a good way or a bad way," Will asks.

"In an unexpected way." Because Dick's fairly sure he would have noticed that name if it was on the guest list. "Hey, I'll catch up later, okay?"

Will tips his glass at him. "Have fun with your new mystery."

Dick gives a halfhearted acknowledgement, already wading into the depths of the crowd, trying to find that flash of purple that already feels like its exact shade is slipping from his mind.

"Ah, Dick," one of the Wayne's former board members calls out to him, "fantastic, just the boy I wanted to see."

Dick stops, dragging his eyes away from the crowd as he tries to smile. "Mr. Franklin. How are you enjoying the party?"

"Fine, just fine, the Wayne mansion has always known how to treat its guests." Mathis Franklin leans in conspiratorially. "Actually, Dick, there's something me and Elison here wanted to discuss with you."

Dick nods to Harris Elison , Wayne Enterprise's former CFO. "Discuss ahead."

"Well, Dick, I'm sure you've heard the rumors that the Board's discussing having you take over the Wayne shares," Franklin began.

"Actually, I already have control over the Wayne shares," Dick corrects mildly. "Bruce put them in a trust until I could legally hold them." He pauses as if thinking. "I did split them so my brothers would have equal shares when they're eighteen, so, you may be thinking of that, Mr. Franklin."

"Brothers?" Elison frowns.

"Jason and Tim." Dick's smile is bland. "They're at the gala. Have you not met them yet?"

"Right, the boys you took in," Franklin continues. "Anyway, Dick, what I actually meant is this business about you taking the Wayne seat on the Board…."

He trails off, obviously expecting an answer, and Dick waits for him. "Yes?"

Franklin coughs, seeming unsure how to word it.

"We're wondering if the seat wouldn't be better for someone more experienced," Wilson finishes for him.

Franklin brightens. "Exactly, you're still so young, aren't you, son? I'm sure you'd rather not be wasting your time in boring executive meetings, right?"

"Actually, I'm the same age Bruce was when he took over his seat," Dick comments mildly.

"Yes," Franklin looks uncomfortable, "well, Bruce was…."

A Wayne.

Dick continues to smile.

"Even with his more exuberant social life, Mr. Wayne knew how to keep the Enterprise well ordered," Elison says bluntly. "Gotham, Wayne Enterprises included, has always needed a firm hand and a tighter leash. It was a particular talent that not many so young are able to manage."

Dick meets his eyes directly and sips at his drink, not saying a word.

Franklin coughs again.

"Sorry, Mr. Franklin," Dick turns to him, "do you need something to drink?"

"No, no, I'll be alright." Mr. Franklin tries to change the tone. "You know I heard the Morrison's oldest-that's one of the Wayne branches, you know? a few generations back, of course-just passed the bar exam. And, then, his uncle Cecil-"

"Now, Mathis," a new voice comes from behind Dick's back and Dick absolutely freezes, "if you're about to imply that Cecil Morrison has done a single noteworthy thing in his entire lecherous life, then, I'm about to severely reevaluate your standards."

Franklin turns bright red from embarrassment and Dick feels the hand on his shoulder, warm even through the layers of the suit.

"M-Ms. Kyle," Franklin stammers, "I wasn't aware you were back in Gotham?"

Selina Kyle's smirk is a motion of elegance, painted blood red like a dagger and carefully wielded under even sharper eyes.

"Well, you know me," she all but purrs, "never one to miss a Wayne party."

Neither Elison or Franklin are able to think of an answer.

She slips her arm through Dick's, pulling him off. "Excuse us, boys."

Dick doesn't even have the words, just letting himself get led away from the party and off to the unused corridors of the Wayne manor until finally he's led into Bruce's old study and the door clicks shut behind him.

Selina smiles at him, sharp as ever even as her eyes are warm. "Looked like you needed a save there, kitten."

And that's all it takes before Dick's launching forward and wrapping his arms around her. She laughs as she catches him, pulling him in tighter.

Dick breathes in just to see if its real and even her perfume's the same as ever, the smell of gardenias and cinnamon reminding him of dark rooftops and the Wayne kitchen at night, splitting a pint of raspberry ice cream that both Bruce and Alfred both hate

Dick's grinning so wide it hurts. "You're back."

Selina cards one hand through his hair, kissing at his temple. "I'm back."

She pats his shoulders, pulling him back enough that she can get a look at him.

"You grew," she accuses. "That's very unfair, you have to know. You're supposed to stay below my shoulders. That's the rule."

"Wear higher heels, then," he says and she laughs.

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand down his face and when he opens his eyes again, she's still there-firm and real.

He falls back to sit on top of the desk, folding his legs under him. "Ugh, Selina, my little brother's almost taller than me, too, and he's only seventeen. That's not fair."

She grins. "I heard you'd taken in strays. Bruce would be proud."

Dick's smile is bashful. "He'd like them."

"If you took them in," Selina leans next to him, "no, he'd love them."

"Want to meet them," Dick asks. "And, Babs, of course."

Selina's smile stills, unsure for a faltering second and, at once, the yearning chasm of eight years comes shuddering back around them.

"...I'm sure I'll see them all soon," she recovers quickly, "on a dark night with a priceless jewel if I'm lucky."

Dick manages a weak smile in return. "Back to everything, I see."

"Well, we've all gotta have a few bad habits," Selina returns.

The strain is still there between them, heavy with how it's soaked in unsaid words.

And Dick doesn't want it there. Not when she's back in front of him.

So, he breaks it.

"You left," he says softly.

Selina's smile falls, moving closer until she can lean against his side, Dick leans back-taking the gesture for what it is.

"I know, kitten," her voice is quiet, whispered. "I couldn't stay, not here, not when I had to keep watching this city move on without him in it."

Dick's throat feels tight. "I was here."

She reaches out, hand cradling his cheek as her thumb runs under his eye- claws gentled.

"You could've at least said bye," Dick says.

"But, then, I would've stayed," Selina tells him quietly. "And I couldn't do that, kitten. It would've killed me."

Dick swallows, pushing the words back because, really, he's said all he needs to say.

"I'm sorry, Dick," she says.

He shakes his head, managing to smile again even if it's a smaller thing-an acceptance as much as a welcome. "You don't have to be."

"I am anyway." She tips her head back and sighs. "I'd hoped I'd be stronger than that. That man always did know how to find my weak spots, didn't he? Even after."

"Bruce was good at that," Dick admits.

Selina smiles. "He was. At least, I was good at finding his right back."

"The best," Dick assures."

"Second best." She points between them. "We're tied, I suppose. We all know the real winner's Alfred."

Dick laughs and she grins back.

"Are you back now," he asks, trying to tamper out the hopeful tone.

"I am." Selina nods. "Cats are supposed to have nine lives, you now? Supposed I might as well start my third one."

She extends her hand. "Now, come on, I saved you from the two doddering old fools; but, I can only keep you away from the party for so long before the gossip starts."

Dick wrinkles his nose even as he takes her arm, letting her guide him back down.

By the time they make it back, Dick can already see his brothers, Babs, and Donna have begun to scan the room for him. Jason catches his eyes first.

"Bye, kitten." Selina kisses his temple. "Catch you later."

"Not if we catch you first," Dick mutters.

She winks. "That's the spirit."

And, then, she's back to disappearing through the crowd.

Jason catches up to him a second later. "Who was that?"

"Some family that's back in town and decided to surprise me."

Jason narrows his eyes suspiciously.

"Don't worry, I can promise you'll meet her later," Dick assures.

"Lot of surprises here," Jason asks.

Dick scans the room once again, catches the dark flash of purple for the second time and this time he's sure he knows that face.

"More than I expected," Dick mutters. "Gotta go."

"Wait, Dick." Jason grabs his arm. "Seriously, how long do I have to stay at this thing? I was talking to Roy about how dumb this book was and an old lady just pinched my cheek and asked me if I want to be a poet? A poet, Dick!"

"I'm sure you'd be a great poet, Jay," Dick says just to see the way Jason gets red and huffy.

"That's not the point!"

"Give it another couple hours, Jason."

"Hours?!"

"You'll live." Dick rolls his eyes before following the purple dress, that's carefully weaving through the ballroom.

The flash of purple dances right in front of him, familiar but maddeningly hard to catch as Dick stubley lengthens his gait from a quick step to almost a jog as the crowd closes in around him.

He can almost-

"Oof!"

There's a sudden exclamation the same time he's hit from the side and Dick's hand shoots out, steadying the figure even if too late to catch the falling flute.

"Shit." Champagne spills down across a golden fabric, staining dark in between the black detailing. A woman's hands suddenly swipe at it, trying to wipe it away. "Shit, oh, crap, my dress."

"I'm so sorry," Dick says with a wince, trying to motion someone to help clean the glass from the shattered flute.

"No, that was my fault." The woman groans, still brushing away the drink. "Didn't see you coming." Dark brown eyes blink up at him before widening. "Oh. Oh, you're…."

"A guy who still feels really horrible for running into you," Dick says sincerely. "I think Alfred has some stain remover back in the kitchen if you want to try that."

The woman still looks fairly wide eyed, before looking down at her dress and grimacing.

"I can help you," Dick promises, offering a hand.

The woman sighs before giving in and taking his hand. "Might as well try."

Dick leads her back, away from where they're keeping the main appetizers warm and back to the manor's small private kitchen. He digs Alfred's spare stain remover from under the sink.

"Here, you go." Dick hands it to her with a fresh towel. "I really am so sorry."

"Quit apologizing." The woman starts wiping down the dress with a quick efficiency. "Like I said, I'm the one that ran into you." The stain starts to lighten and she tips her head back with a moan. "Oh, thank fuck, the dress was a rental."

"It looks great," Dick compliments, trying to smooth the awkward mood.

"Thanks." The woman shakes her head, muttering under her breath. "I really hate parties." She winces just as quickly. "Probably because I say shit like that to the host. The gala's gorgeous, I meant-"

Dick laughs, giving her a grin and waving it off. "It's fine, really. Trust me, I know how you feel. It's been a long night already and the galas only half done."

Her smile goes thin. "Look, I get trying to make me feel better; but, you really don't have to lie."

"I promise I'm not." Dick smiles, holding up his hands in surrender. "There's a reason I've avoided holding one for eight years."

She eyes him, sizing him up.

Dick just shrugs guileless.

"Guess you're alright, Mr. Grayson." She finally smiles.

He sticks his hand out. "It's Dick to everyone I spill a drink on."

"You really go by Dick, then?" She takes the hand, smile going into a smirk. "Thought that was just a tabloid nickname."

Dick shrugs. "What my parents always called me, figured I might as well own it."

The woman laughs again.

"So, I know how I got dragged into it," Dick says, "but, how'd you get suckered into it, party hater?"

She snorts. "My brother's Bludhaven's assistant DA. He thought I needed a break from being back home."

"And how's it going," Dick asks.

Her smile returns. "Better than expected."

"Glad to be of service." He gives a fake bow.

"You should probably get back to it, though, right?" She eyes the still wet mark on her dress as they wait for it to dry. "And I imagine your girlfriend's getting jealous by now."

"Donna?" Dick laughs. "Nah, she's not my girlfriend. My girlfriend hates things like this, worse than me probably."

The woman raises a brow. "Your girlfriend's fine with you taking another girl to a gala?"

"Sure." Dick ducks his head down, smile going soft and kind as he thinks about Kory. "Besides, we're not really the type that needs attention."

"Hiding from the press," the woman asks.

Dick hums. "...well, that doesn't hurt either."

"Dick?"

Dick sticks his head up to see Barbara at the door.

"Hey, Babs." Dick smiles.

"Hey," she leans against the door frame, the red of her hair flowing down the pale green of her dress, "Jason told me to tell you if you keep ducking out of the party without taking him, he's not going to be responsible for his actions."

Dick rolls his eyes. "No patience with the youths today."

"A shame." Barbara smiles before nodding at the woman. "This dork's not bugging you, right?"

"Rude!" Dick protests.

"Actually, I think he's my knight and shining armor for the evening," the woman says, gesturing to the stain remover.

"He does have a bad habit of that, doesn't he?" Barbara gives Dick a look.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going!" Dick surrenders, joining him by the door. "As if you weren't looking for a break, too."

Babs bumps his shoulder. "I'm not the host, I'm allowed to hate these things." She smirks. "Donna and Will are having fun, though. Think Roy's about to join them."

Dick really does groan. "The headlines are going to be nuts, aren't they?"

"That's a tomorrow problem." Barbara's grin is entirely fond. "Do try to have some fun at the party, okay?"

"Make me," Dick teases, smirking right back.

Barbara suddenly clears her throat, looking back to the woman. "Anything else we can do to help?"

"...No," the woman's looking between them. "No, I think I'm fine now." Her eyes land on Dick and she tilts her chin down to watch him with dark eyes. "Thanks for the save, Dick. You're one of the good ones."

"No problem." Dick waves before pausing. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot. Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The woman smiles. "Catalina Flores."

ooooooo

When Dick finally gets back to the party, he doesn't even have to look for the dark purple dress.

She's already looking back at him as she leans casually on the balcony railing.

Dick comes to stand next to her.

"Helena Bertinelli," he greets. "I haven't seen you since-"

"My father was arrested for extortion, racketeering, multiple counts of homicide, and participation in mob action." Helena takes a sip of champagne. "Oh, and tax evasion. Can't forget the tax evasion."

"...I was going to say 'since you moved'."

She smiles. "That sounds a lot nicer."

"I thought so." Dick grins back. "Wow, it's been...what?"

"Ten years, give or take." She taps her nail against the edge of her glass. "Why? Missed me in Math class?"

"I hadn't heard you were back in Gotham," Dick says.

She shrugs effortlessly. "I'm not staying, just needed to drop by for work."

"Work," Dick presses, already thinking about which rackets the Bertinelli gangs preferred in Gotham. Extortion mainly with a few politicians blackmailed in their back pocket, of course. That would be a problem with-

"Work," Helena confirms, smile trading in for a smirk. "What, Grayson, afraid I've stumbled back into the mob?"

Dick suppresses a wince, trying not to let it show on his face.

It feels like she catches it anyway as her eyes go sharper.

"We're not our fathers," he says, half in apology.

Surprisingly, Helena laughs. "From you?"

Dick blinks. "What's funny?"

"...Nevermind," she shakes her head, "I don't think you'd find it as funny as me." She smiles. "Anyway, it was a family business, Dick. You don't have to feel guilty for having your suspicions."

Dick lets his shoulders drop back down. "What's your new job, then?"

"This and that." Helena's eyes are as blunt as ever. "It's a nice party, by the way. Reminds me of the ones when we were kids."

"Thanks," he says. "You always used to step on my feet back then."

"Was never really one for waltzes," she says.

"Still not?"

"I'm better at them now." Helena finishes her glass. "I can appreciate the turns more."

"I'll take your word for it," Dick says.

She snorts. "Trying to protect your toes, Grayson?"

"Just a bit," Dick admits. "It's good to see you, Helena."

"Is it," she asks and her tone is calculating. She waves the question off before Dick can answer. "Nice talk, but my date is waiting for me. See you another night, I suppose, and thanks, by the way."

"For what," Dick asks.

"Confirmation." Helena smiles, shrugging on her shawl to hide the dark purple fabric. "Watch your feet, Grayson."

Dick watches her go, intercepting with a dark haired man before both head toward the exit.

He walks back into the party, grabbing Tim's arm as he walks by. "Hey, Timmy, pull up the manor's surveillance system for me, would ya? Check for the woman I was just talking to."

Tim gives him a look before rummaging his pocket for his phone, obligingly typing in the password and clicking through to the video system.

"You ditched me." Donna comes up to lean on Dick's shoulder.

"Sorry, weird night," Dick mutters. "And like you weren't having your own fun."

Donna just grins. "Our kind of weird?"

"Probably," he admits just as Tim starts frowning.

"Huh." Tim stares at the video. "Huh."

"What's up," Dick asks.

"She doesn't have a face," Tim says slowly, showing him the video.

"A woman without a face?" Donna sounds delighted. "Oh, that's definitely our kind of weird. Might even be Zee's type of weird."

"She has a face," Dick corrects quietly. "I know her face."

So, why couldn't he remember it now? The specifics blurring faster the harder he tried to recall them.

In the surveillance cameras, Helena was mainly turned away-both her and her date's bodies positioned to block the camera in a way that couldn't be coincidence. All except for the last second, right before she stepped out the door, where Helena turned back and….

A blur-right where her face should be. Almost a spiral.

He hands the phone back to Tim, who quickly starts clicking through all the other camera angles, trying to find better footage.

"Whatcha thinking," Donna asks.

Dick smiles. "That this party was more fun than I expected."

"Crap," Tim huffs at the phone. "I can't find a better picture." His finger hesitates above the screen. "...hey, Dick, we got a camera out."

Dick frowns. "Where?"

"Your room." Tim shows where the camera's angle was hit off of view, showing a blank piece of the ceiling instead of the normal view of the room.

"Oh." Dick grimaces. "That's probably my fault, actually. I think I shook it when I was talking to Kory. I'll go fix it."

"I'll join you." Donna loops her arm with his.

He winks. "Thought you loved the galas."

"Even an infamous party girl like myself needs a break every once in a while." Donna turns her nose up, fake snooty.

Dick laughs. "Then, once again, my lady."

They make it ten whole steps before Jason darts in front of him.

"No!" Jason crosses his arms. "No! If you two get a break, so do I!"

"We're just fixing a camera, Jay." Dick rolls his eyes. "It's a minute."

"I don't care!" Jason stops firmly next to them. "Take me with you."

"Fine," Dick agrees, covering a grin.

They head off to the top of the stairs before Dick throws one last look down. Below, the local celebrities of Gotham are still eating and laughing-the lights of the room still burning bright an hour before midnight.

It looks….it looks like a Wayne event, like the image could be lucked straight out of Dick's mind when he was a bored thirteen year old with a tie that still felt too tight against his neck.

Like a little piece of normal back at Gotham's side.

In front of him, Jason's already shrugging out of his jacket the moment they hit the top of the stairs, loosening his collar and moaning. "Freedom."

"The things you do for the cause," Donna teases.

"Shut up, I'm enjoying the moment before I'm dragged back," Jason says, dropping into a chair and sprawling out on it.

"What happened to helping me check the camera," Dick asks.

Jason flips him off without opening his eyes. "Do it yourself."

Dick snorts, heading down the hall and to his room.

He opens the door.

He stops. Behind him, Donna freezes.

"Jason," Dick orders, tone expressionless. "Go find Barbara and Tim. Now."

Jason huffs, rolling to his feet and walking towards them. "For shit sake, it's a camera, Dick!"

Jason gets to the room and goes motionless.

"It's not just a camera," Dick says.

Laying on the middle of Dick's bed is the body of Mickey O'Brien, throat slit and blood still wet over his bar tending apron. On the wall above him is a symbol, blood just starting to dry brown on the wall.

A bat.

ooooooo

A/N: For those wondering, it was Col. Mustard with the candlestick in the bedroom, lol. In seriousness, thank you so, so much for your continuing support, guys! I really appreciate it! Next Post Date: September 6th or earlier (I'm aiming for the first weekend of every month at the latest)