The flash of police cameras is both entirely the same and completely distinct from the clicks of the press hours earlier.

The last of the gala guests are still being shuffled out by Gotham's finest-silk gowns and pressed suits proceeding orderly in a manner that was almost bored. Dick suppresses a wry look. Truly, only in Gotham is discovering a gruesome murder considered a dull way to end a night.

The police wait until the only ones that are left are Dick, his brothers, Barbara, and Alfred-Will, no doubt, already slipped away to inform the Titans.

"Alright." Commissioner Gordon steps up to them, notepad out even as he's still wearing his gala suit. "The CSI are here and we're already working on getting the body back to the city morgue. He's been identified as Mickey O'Brien. Heard of him?"

Dick feigns confusion. "Was he a party guest? I don't remember the name from the list?"

Commissioner Gordon snorts. "No, I doubt he'd ever been this far uptown actually. Local bar owner with suspected ties to some of the organized crime rings."

"Then, how'd he end up here," Tim asks, eyes wide and spooked and Dick suppresses a small burst of pride that Tim really has gotten a lot better at maintaining a cover over the years..

At least it seems the rest of the detectives are buying it, even the Commissioner not seeming to look twice. "We're not sure yet. What we know so far is he was murdered a couple of hours ago somewhere else and dumped here the same time someone left the bat. That clears the party guests that were here all night at least; but, we're still going to need any security footage you have to see if anyone snuck in later."

"I can send it," Tim agrees immediately and Dick is sure part and quite possibly doctored footage would be in the Gotham PD's email by that night.

Jason is slouching in his chair, arms crossed. "Why here? Who killed him?"

"Another good question." Gordon raises a brow. "Don't suppose any of you have annoyed any Arkham residents lately?"

Alfred gives a faint smile. "We do try to avoid those particular unfavorable associations, I believe."

….which quite possibly is the biggest lie Dick has ever heard in the entirety of his life and he's unsure how even Alfred can say it with a straight face.

"Dad," Barbara speaks up, "what's this all about? What's with the bat?"

Commissioner Gordon sighs, looking tired. "I honestly don't know, Barbara. Closest guess I have right now is that they chose the Wayne manor to make a statement, something that would get press immediately. In Gotham, two things that tend to do that are Waynes and bats. But, with that, we can't rule out the possibility it was more personally targeted." He looks at Dick. "Rumors are you're taking a seat on the Wayne Board?"

Dick nods. "After I graduate."

"Anyone you know that would want to stir up some bad press," Gordon asks. "Like murder at the first Wayne event you host?"

"Plenty," Dick agrees readily, more than happy to promote this possible avenue than have anyone look closer at the particular symbol. "I can try to come up with a list if that helps?"

Commissioner Gordon taps against his notebook. "Give yourself a night to think. Drop by the station tomorrow and we'll work on coming up with a list the PD can start looking into. We'll need the full guest list, too. Everyone here tonight is going to have to be interviewed on what they saw."

Alfred clears his throat. "Thank you for your diligence. I'm afraid that it's been a rather long night for all of us, Commissioner."

Gordon nods. "No doubt going to be a long week, too." He glances back towards Dick. "Unfortunately, the cleaning crew can't get here until the morning. Sorry, son."

"That's fine….I, um," Dick rubs his neck sheepishly. "I think I'll be heavily considering a room change soon anyway."

"I'll be heading to the station, then." He turns to Babs. "I take it you'll be staying here for the night?"

Barbara nods. "Probably the week."

"Don't know why you bothered to get an apartment, honestly." He rolls his eyes. "You're here most of the time I check, anyway. Since you were a teenager."

Babs grins. "I like the extra storage space."

Detective Bullock comes up, rubbing at the bags under his eyes-he at least had found some time to change. "The lab rats are done."

"CSI," Gordon corrects in a tone that says it's basically routine by now. "Alright, looks like we're done here for the night." He looks at Dick. "Remember to stop by the station tomorrow with that list."

"Will do," Dick promises.

Then, it's just a matter of waiting until the last of the Gotham PD finally clears out and Dick is left with his family.

In other words, the night has just begun.

Dick strips off his tie, heading for the cave with his brothers behind him and Babs already at his side.

"What's the odds that we didn't just give Dad a red herring to chase," Barbara asks.

"Combined with the bat symbol and the fact I just saw Mickey a few hours ago," Dick says back. "Slim but I suppose it's possible. I can't help thinking if it was someone looking to make bad press for Wayne Enterprises, they would have put the body somewhere the rest of the guests could see, not my bedroom. That's personal-they wanted me to see it."

"Dick….," Tim hesitates, "does that mean…"

Dick's face is grim. "Yeah. It looks like someone might know our identities-at the very least, mine."

There is a heavy moment as that sets in, long enough that they can reach the cave and the person who waits by the monitors.

Donna sits criss cross on the desk chair, ball gown traded out for sweats and leggings. "I take it from the long faces, it's nothing good?"

Dick gives a small smile. "Doesn't look like it." He sighs. "Don', until we get to the bottom of this, I'm limiting any Titan visits to Gotham-even as civilians. It's too risky if one of our identities has been compromised."

Donna winces, moving so Barbara can get to work on the computer. Donna is still focused on Dick. "They're not going to like that."

"I know," Dick acknowledges. "I'll tell them tomorrow. Bright side is that, so far, this seems Gotham centered so it's still probably safe for us to meet at the Tower." He bit his lip. "Since I'm the only one we know has been targeted so far, I'll be mainly working out of Gotham until it's solved. You good taking point on the Titans?"

Donna nods. "Don't think this is going to get you out of helping me move to the new apartment."

Dick snorts. "Wouldn't dream of it. Besides, we've still got Raquel's baby shower to plan."

"Uh-huh," Donna wags her finger. "Like I'm letting you plan that, Mr. Neon is a Soothing Color."

Dick sticks out his tongue before turning to his brothers. "Tim, you're in charge of making sure Bart actually listens to the stay-out-of-Gotham order. Jay, you've got Roy."

Tim goes pale, letting out a loud moan.

"Sure, give us the hard parts," Jason mutters.

"Yeah, yeah," Dick waves them off, "I'm the one who has to tell Mera why I'm going to miss our monthly meetings. You two have got it easy."

"...Dick," Barbara breaks in and her tone is serious, "how exactly do we know this is someone who found out your identity?"

"What are you saying," Dick asks.

Babs sighs. "I'm saying what if this is someone who already knew."

The picture of Selina Kyle is pulled up on screen.

"It's not her," Dick says immediately.

"I know you don't want it to be; but….she already knows who you are, Dick," Barbara insists quietly. "And she just showed up back in town. We haven't had any known breaches in security lately-she's the obvious choice."

"It's not her," Dick insists again. "Trust me, Babs, you haven't met her. This isn't her style."

"Are you sure?" Barbara hesitates. "It's been eight years since the Invasion, Dick, that's a lot of time to change."

Dick struggles for his next counter.

"Wait, who is she," Jason asks. "And how does she know you're Nightwing?"

"That's Selina Kyle," Tim says, breathing in sharply before turning to Dick. "Is it true….is she….?"

"I see someone's already guessed," Dick says, refocusing on that rather than Babs' question.

Tim shrugs. "I looked at a lot of people that hung around you and Bruce. I never had enough proof to say for sure; but, she's…," his voice is excited, "she's Catwoman, isn't she?"

Dick grins.

"No fucking way!" Jason shouts in disbelief. "No, Catwoman died in the Invasion, right? I mean she's…," his cheeks went bright red in a way that Dick remembers vividly from when Jason was thirteen and just meeting Kory.

Dick can't help but tease. "Why, Jay? What do you remember about Catwoman?"

"Shut up," Jason says, face still crimson, "shut up! She wears a skin tight leather outfit and could show up Batman. It's practically a Narrows' right of passage to have a crush on Catwoman."

Dick snickers, Donna right beside him.

"I didn't," Tim insists smugly.

"Yeah, well, that's because you were probably too busy skulking around with a camera and a laptop, you little weirdo," Jason grumbles before looking at Dick. "You really know Catwoman?"

"I really don't know why that's so surprising." Dick shakes his head, still laughing. "It's Selina, she taught me most of the stuff I know about dealing with galas and all the publicity business."

Surprisingly, Barbara's the one who stops at that before groaning. "Oh...oh, that explains sooooo much."

"What?" Dick tilts his head guileless. Donna laughs harder.

"Whatever." Jason moves on quickly, ignoring the fact that the red hasn't quite faded from his ears. "Babs has a point. How do we know it's not her that left the body?"

"I really, really don't think it is," Dick says. "I can't even think of a reason she'd have for doing it. We already know she's aware of our identities. There's no motive, not to mention she's never been one for murder." He sighs, shaking a hand through his hair. "I'll try to find her anyway. See if she knows anything. At the very least she might still have some connections to the Gotham criminal network that could help."

Tim nods, silently reaching for the keyboard that Barbara hands over. "But, the real main suspect still has to be the faceless woman, right? He pulls up an image of the spiral that stood in place of Helena's face. "She's definitely the weirdest possibility we have and she left right before we found the body. That's gotta be more than a coincidence, right?"

"Plus, she has a date that could have helped her move the body," Barbara adds with a nod.

"Her name's Helena Bertinelli, we went to school together," Dick says. "Her father was the head of the Bertinelli crime family before Bruce and I finally got enough evidence for the Feds to arrest him. He's currently serving a life sentence upstate." Tim pulls up the file and Dick nods in confirmation. "The only problem is I don't think Helena's had much contact with him in over a decade. She moved to Italy with her mother's extended family after his arrest, she….um, didn't handle the arrest well." He thinks that might be a massive understatement considering just the little bits he remembers hearing from outside the principal's office the days he was informed.

Tim was already pulling up another file. "Well, it doesn't look like she stayed there for long. Looks like her previous guardians had their business destroyed in the Invasion….probable links to the Italian mob, too. The two of them left back for the States barely a year after….alone." Tim leaves the immigration documents up on the monitor, suspiciously absent one fourteen year old Helena.

"She's a better suspect than Selina," Dick admits. "At the very least, she's got a motive to hate me. But, that's still seven years unaccounted for and without any clue how she found out my identity in the first place."

"And the creepy no face thing," Jason puts in.

"And that," Dick agrees.

There's silence as everyone digests the information on screen.

"Well," Donna blows out a breath slowly, "I'll give you this. Gotham sure doesn't have boring parties."

ooooooo

Looking for Selina Kyle has always been an interesting practice and Dick will admit he's more than a few years out of practice. In essence, the practice boils down into two results.

Option one: he finds her within a few hours-normally at the newest high class Gotham cafe or in the shadows of a jewelry display, depending on the time of day.

Option two: he doesn't find her.

When Selina truly decided to go to ground even Bruce himself had sometimes taken months to track her back. And even that's taking into account that of all the truths Selina's ever told Dick, there's one he believes above the rest-she's always had a weak spot for Bruce Wayne. She let him find her eventually.

Dick isn't Bruce Wayne.

What he is happens to be entirely unsure if Selina is in the mood to be found, history or not.

Dick is really hoping not to lose her so soon after finding her. He wasn't lying about missing her, a truly good part of his memories that he can fit back into his present.

….and maybe….maybe he's also just hoping she wasn't lying either about missing him, too. At least enough to say goodbye.

In the end, he only lets himself relax when he finds her the next morning on the terrace of Chez Vous, tucked just at the start off the boardwalk right off Newmar Boulevard and the construction on the Bludhaven exit.

There are two brunch menus set in front of her and a plate of raspberry scones in the middle.

Dick doesn't hesitate to take the other seat and she pours him a mimosa before taking a sip of her own.

"You know for all the filth, I've always loved the view of the harbor in the morning," she remarks.

"I thought cats were supposed to hate water," he teases.

"I'm multi-faceted." She wrinkles her nose. "Could do without the bulldozer noise, though."

Dick waves one hand to the construction while grabbing a scone with the other. "They're expanding the lanes. There was a thing with Mad Hatter a few months ago, caused a pile-up."

She hums, taking another sip. "That's the thing about Gotham, standing waist deep in its history with one foot and running away as fast as it can with the other."

"Which foot are you on," Dick asks.

"Not sure yet." Her eyes wrinkle with a smile. "I can't help feel like I'm too old for one of the choices; but, for the life of me, I can't tell which. You?"

Dick pauses to think. "Bit of both."

"Fine way to get buried alive, kitten," Selina remarks.

"As long as it's not literal." He finishes the last of the scone. "I take it you heard about Mickey."

Selina nods. "Should I expect Gotham's finest knocking on my door for a statement?"

"Funny enough you weren't on the guest list and somehow had miraculously good luck at avoiding the cameras," Dick remarks.

"Funny how life works," Selina agrees dryly.

Dick takes a deep breath, letting it fall out in a sigh. "...please don't make me ask, Selina."

"I don't know who did it, kitten," she says in apology.

Dick presses forward. "And you showing up just now? Coincidence?"

"Black cats always do bring the worst luck." She tucks her hair behind her ear before looking down. "But, no, not a coincidence….just not in the way you think."

"You said you didn't know who did it," Dick confirms.

"And I don't," she agrees. "But, I know more than I can say right now."

"Then, tell me," Dick asks.

"I'm not the one who can." She smiles faintly. "After everything, I suppose it's asking too much to trust me for another few days-a week tops?"

"It's less than eight years," Dick points out.

Selina winces and Dick almost regrets it before she tilts her head in acknowledgement. "Fair but brutal, kitten."

"You're the one who taught me," Dick says but he falls back, taking another scone and pouring them both another glass. "A few days?"

"Cross my heart." Selina mimes the motion. "A few more things to fall in place first."

"I guess it was too much to hope you came back just because you missed Gotham," Dick says, holding him his new glass in a toast.

Selina clinks her glass against his. "I have missed Gotham. But you know people like us," she takes a sip, "sometimes it takes that final little push to finally bring the fall."

ooooooo

"You sure this is a good idea," Barbara whispers to him, low enough not to be heard near the front of the limo where Jason and Tim keep up the normal sport of bickering.

"Not really," Dick admits, refusing to acknowledge how his stomach hasn't unclenched all day and exactly how comforting Barbara's hand is by his elbow.

It's been a week since the gala and there's been nothing-no leads from the police, no further threats that someone really does know his identity, and no news from Selina. All in all, for a situation like this, nothing really is the best and worst option possible.

If there's one thing they all hate other than fear gas and explosions, it's a mystery without leads.

"We can still cancel," Babs offers.

Dick sighs. "We really, really can't. A week with no press sightings since the murder means that the Wayne Board actually is going to kill me….if the press isn't trying to scale the manor walls already." He glances to check that Jason and Tim really are distracted with their usual minor attempts at fratricide before he lowers his voice even further, allowing the hesitation to show through. "Besides….there's other people who've been waiting to see me, too. And….even with everything, I don't want to let them down."

Barbara smiles, leaning back to shake her head. "Boy Wonder, when's the last time you've ever actually let anyone down."

Dick grins back. "According to you? Literally every time I try to dress myself."

Babs laughs. "Clothes really aren't your specialty."

"I don't see your and Donna's vendetta against popped collars."

"Maybe if they weren't large enough to land a plane on."

The car pulls ahead to a stop, the bulb lights and large spotlights bright enough to be seen even through the tint of the windows and at once Dick feels the pit of his stomach ache with a mix of nerves and a tug of nostalgia pulling hard enough to drag the air out of his lungs in a slight gasp.

"This our stop," Jason asks, pulling away from his argument with Tim.

"We're here," Dick confirms, waiting for Tim and Jason to both jump out of the car before speaking lowly. "Babs…."

"Have fun, Dick," she squeezes his hand, hesitating ever so slightly before landing a brief, simple kiss in reassurance right at the edge of his temple and Dick blinks up at her, the surprise pulling him temporarily out of his thoughts.

Barbara's already reaching for the door on the other side of the car, pulling up her hood and getting ready to slip into the shadows. "I'll go double check the security. Try not to worry about it tonight, alright? I've got your back. Trust me."

As if Dick's ever been able not to.

There's a click of the door and she's gone, Dick left fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt.

"Ready, Master Dick," Alfred asks from the front.

"Hurry up already!" Jason echoes from outside.

"Ready," He smiles at Alfred. "See you inside, Alfie."

"Make sure to save our seats," Alfred responds warmly.

And Dick finally breathes in and takes his first step outside.

The smell of popcorn and fresh building wood is what hits him immediately, a large red and white tent towering above everything like a makeshift castle, crowds laughing and tugging close to each other as they gravitate to the light inside as if pulled like magnets.

It's loud and bright and warm and it smells like the electricity in the air as he's flying thirty stories high and Dick's smiling wide enough that it hurts.

Tim bumps against him. "It looks bigger than I remember."

Dick laughs, still grinning like a mad man at the bright sign that reads HALY'S CIRCUS in big bold letters against Gotham's skyline.

"For me, too," Dick admits, before turning forward on his heel and waving them on with him. "Come on, we better get closer to check!"

Dick can feel the flash of press cameras on his back, held distant behind sold out ticket booths, and for once he doesn't have to fake anything-shooting them smiles and waves just like his Dad trained him while standing at the top of a trapeze.

Jason pulls him faster after a few moments. "Sheesh, they've got enough photos! Come on before they start trying to climb the gate!"

Dick laughs, ruffling his hair in vengeance as Jason releases him like he was burnt. "Good! More photos mean more people come to see the show!" He hums. "Gotham needs more things like this in their lives. To remind them of the fun things that come out of the night." He beams again. "To remind them of flying."

Jason gives him a look, checking no one's close enough to hear them. "You do remember you jump off skyscrapers for a living, right?"

"You need a break, too, Jaybird," Dick decides abruptly. "Way too serious."

Jay rolls his eyes. "Quit calling me Jaybird."

"Littlewing," Dick singsongs.

"Asshole."

With the inherent instincts of the reigning champ of getting under Jason's skin, Tim seeks his moment to pipe in. "Why does Jason have three nicknames and I only get 'Timmy'?"

Jason shrugs. "Timbo."

"That one sucks, Jason," Tim complains.

"So, what?" Jason jerks his hand at Dick. "This guy willingly calls himself 'Dick' and you want a nickname from him?"

Dick pouts. "Hey! It's a perfectly normal-"

"Jay, Littlewing, Jaybird," Tim counts off. "That's three times the quantity, that's...that's nickname inflation! Thievery!"

"Maybe it's because a jaybird's an actual thing! What's a Timbird?" Jason makes a face. "Wait, why am I even arguing this?"

"A drake's a bird," Tim mutters.

"We're not calling you 'Drake'! That's fucking stupid!"

Tim huffs immediately. "Shut up, it's clever! I think-"

"Guys!" Dick cuts them both off with a particularly long suffering tone. "Tim, you really want another nickname?"

Tim shrugs, less excited now that it's not a point in an ongoing argument. "Well, I mean it's not actually important-"

"Babybird!" Dick says with a sudden stroke of genius.

Jason starts laughing so hard, he's wheezing.

Tim looks pained. "Ah, no, Dick, that's really okay. Maybe I don't-"

"It's perfect," Dick insists as his phone buzzes. "One second, it's Babs."

Barbara texts him that all the security measures are on point, Wayne security coordinated with the Gotham PD...and some additional details added from all of them on top of that.

Dick feels another tension in his chest settle. He stops to consider, with his brothers beside him, faces lit by the lights of the circus tent and Tim, at least, still a good, respectable four inches shorter than him.

"You know, after we get a break from the current mess," Dick decides abruptly, "we should take a vacation."

Jason chokes, eyes going wide in undisguised horror….which Dick feels is a bit of an overreaction.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad." Dick rolls his eyes.

"Dick," Jason tries to reason, "no offense, but the last vacation you planned was camping and we ended up trapped in a sewer with Killer Croc for two days, so I'm thinking maybe you should quit while you're ahead."

"Yes, but we still made s'mores so I'm counting that as a win."

"Dick…" Jason says, sounding pained.

Tim looks quickly between them. "Wait, when did you two go on vacation? The most I ever get is ice cream after patrol and movie nights."

Jason immediately gets infuriatingly smug. "Well, Replacement, I was like fourteen then so who knows if you were even born yet."

Tim glares back. "I'm two years younger than you, Jason. Count them: one, two."

"Yeah, we're definitely taking a vacation," Dick mutters, leading them up to their seats in the higher, more closed off section.

"Dick!"

Dick turns at the clearly female voice, seeing the face and taking more than a second to place it before…

"Catalina," he pulls up an easy smile, "so, I see you're more a fan of circuses more than galas?"

"Not usually." Catalina's eyes focus intently on him, scanning him down in a way Dick tries not to shift under. She smiles slowly, a tilt to her lips like she always knows just a little bit more than everyone around her. "What can I say? I saw your interview and thought I'd take your recommendation. Is it true you grew up here?"

"Yep, best home in the world." He laughs. "Well, here and Gotham, of course. Glad you took my tip."

"...well, it seemed like the only thing in that bullshit interview you actually cared about," she says, voice abruptly sharper. "Not that I suppose anyone else noticed."

Dick shrugs, aiming for casual. "Hmm, well, you know circuses are a lot more fun interview topics than financial plans. Can't blame the reporters too much for needing both, I guess."

Catalina's hum says she disagrees and her lips purse. "I'm surprised to see you here, though."

Dick tilts his head. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Your manner was broken into a week ago with a dead body," Catalina's words are cutting. "My brother told me the police are considering whether it's a targeted threat. You should be more careful."

"No worries," Dick reassures, keeping his voice easy. "I'm sure the safest I can be is under a spotlight. Besides," he winks, elbowing both of his brothers-Jason's already looking out at the empty ring in boredom, "I'm sure if I need, I've got these two to protect me, right?"

"Definitely," Tim says, voice quiet and firm while his eyes focus on Catalina.

Catalina, meanwhile, still looks ready to argue. "You should really take better care-"

"ROGUES AND WANDERERS, SCOUNDRELS AND HEROES ALIKE," the cheerful boom of Pop Haly echoes through the tent to sudden applause, "PLEASE FIND YOUR SEATS AS THE SHOW GETS READY TO BEGIN!"

"Looks like that's our cue," Dick smiles back at Catalina. "Hope you enjoy the show!"

He's already turning away, pulling at Jason and Tim, before she can start her...um, kind-he guesses-but really, really unnecessary worry about the risk of a circus. Dick suppresses a wry smile-honestly, even with the fear of a possible identity leak, tonight at the circus is probably the least dangerous night his entire family has had in a month.

They're halfway up the stairs before Tim speaks. "Who was that?"

"Hmm? Oh, Catalina Flores-I met her at the gala," Dick waves the question off. "Her brother's Bludhaven's Assistant DA."

There's quiet and Dick looks back to see Tim frowning.

"What's up," Dick asks.

"I don't like her," Tim admits slowly. "I don't know how to place it; I just feel like I don't like her for some reason."

Dick raises a brow. "I'm pretty sure she's just a civilian, Timmy."

Tim nods, still thinking.

Jason shoves at Dick's shoulder. "What Babybird here probably means is that he hates having to deal with your gross flirting with literally every person we run into."

Dick snorts. "That was not flirting."

"Oh, shit, you don't even realize you're doing it, do you?" Jason grimaces. "For some reason, that makes it worse!"

"Jay, I know how to flirt. That was not flirting, that was just being nice." His grin widens. "Though, I'm sure if you really think you're old enough to learn about flirting, then I suppose I can teach you-"

"Ugh!" Jason gags. "I'd legitimately rather French kiss Clayface, least I'd get variety."

"Kinky! I didn't know you had a thing for actors, Jay," Dick teases. "Though, I'm afraid as your older brother, I have to object. As sweet as he can be, Basil's way too old for you."

"I think she likes you," Tim mutters.

Jason and Dick both pull back, blinking down at him.

"Catalina," Tim clarifies, "You might not have been flirting with her; but, I think she was flirting with you."

"Oh, um," Dick blushes, debating how to say this without sounding arrogant, "yeah, I think she probably was, too; but…."

Jason punches Tim in the shoulder. "Timbo, I don't know how it possibly escaped your notice; but, Dick being flirted with isn't exactly new. Get used to it." His look to Dick is withering. "Apparently, most of Gotham is half blind and with terrible taste."

"You always say the sweetest things, Jay." Dick turns back to Tim. "You really don't have to stress about it, Timmy, I promise I know how to handle people flirting with me without leading them on. Besides," his smile goes a bit wider, "practically everyone knows I'm taken by now. Gotham tabloids have been speculating for months about my mystery girlfriend."

"Terrible taste, terrible definition of news," Jason kicks back after finally finding their seats. "That's Gotham for you."

Tim looks between them before sighing, giving it up and sitting down in his seat. "Fine….I guess I'm just tense about everything else. It's making me paranoid."

"Which is exactly," Dick says, falling into his seat between them, "why we need a vacation!"

The lights go dim around them just as Tim gives a faint smile.

"Let's start with just a normal night."

ooooooo

There's a tiny part that Dick doesn't tell the others.

He thinks Barbara might have guessed. Donna would probably know if she was here beside him. Alfred….well, Dick's long stopped assuming there's anything Alfred doesn't know, even if the older man chooses to let it lie.

Anyway, there's a part of Dick that's scared, sitting here in the stands as the lights go down and the audience falls to a hush. And this fear doesn't have anything to do with the body. It's nothing to do with the possibility of someone knowing his identity or planning an attack. It's not even about the last time he was in a Haly's show, back when he was part of the show before burned through chords and a snap! changed everything.

Maybe it should be that last time that scares him; but, Dick had a life before that, too, and even with the sharp pain of his last show, it still couldn't erase the brightness of a hundred before that, a thousand, more.

And, in the end, maybe that's why this last fear is the one Dick finds it hardest to deal with. He's fairly used to planning for the worst case scenario by now. Coming back home and the nagging worry that he's the one too changed for it is an entirely different kind of fear.

He forgets about all of it the minute the spotlight comes on and a woman falls from the top, a good fifty feet above the audience.

At least five people scream, jumping to their feet,and he feels Jason tense beside him before Dick grabs his arm. "Wait."

From the side, another man swoops in, catching her by the arm and the movement shifts from a fall to a graceful arc, spinning back up in the air like a leaf captured by a sudden wind.

And that's all it takes: the screams of the audience turning into echoes of delight, more spotlights flooding the space in color, music thrumming from loud speakers hung along the rafters.

In a split between seconds, the space between a fall, the darkness of the tent is transformed into brightness and the rings are filled with movement as jugglers spin knives through the air, barely missing clowns who are falling in between dancers that move through the space that's left.

There's a quick thrum echoing along with Dick's heartbeat that wants so bad to be out there, too, flying above it all as the trapeze artists still spin easily from perch to perch, not allowing themselves to land for even a second.

"Wow," he hears Tim breathe in beside him and the spell breaks.

Or, no, maybe that's wrong, maybe everything just moves a little bit forward, builds something new.

Dick winks down at him. "Like you remember?"

"Better." Tim smiles.

Yeah, Dick thinks he likes his something new pretty well, too.

With that, he decides to take Barbara's advice, pushing back his worries and letting himself get sucked forward into the movements of the show.

In the way of any truly great entertainment, time in the circus feels suspended at the same time as it moves too fast.

Before Dick can quite catch onto it, two hours have passed and the floodlights of the show lift one final time as the audience clamors to their feet with the sound of applause, Dick alongside them.

"An excellent performance," Alfred remarks.

"The fire breather's new," Dick comments back. "I wasn't expecting how they added it in with the dancers. The timing for the choreography alone had to be incredible."

"Adding fire's always better," Jason adds.

"I worry about you," Tim says. "Immensely."

Dick just laughs, continuing to smile as the crowds slowly drift out around them-leaving the light of the circus and taking a little bit of that warmth back into the chill of the Gotham night.

But, tonight, Dick simply gets to stay in the warmth.

"Come on," he motions to his family, "there's a few people I want you to meet."

When he glances down, only a few wayward audience members are left and Barbara's already slipped back from the shadows to join his side.

"Any problems," Dick asks.

She shakes her head. "None, not even a guest sneaking out for a smoke where they're not supposed to. A perfectly quiet Gotham night."

"Sounds like an oxymoron," Dick teases.

She bumps his shoulder. "For tonight, I'll take it." She pauses. "It was a good show, by the way."

"It was," Dick breathes out in agreement. "It really, really was."

"Go on," Barbara shoves him forward. "We'll catch up."

Dick smiles in thanks, already heading down the stairs.

The tent has been all but cleared of audience members, leaving the circus members themselves to start packing things away, and Dick has absolutely no compunction against finally dropping the twelve feet over the other side of the barrier and letting out a whistle. "Need any help?"

That's all he gets out before, "DICK!"

Strong arms launch around his neck, knocking him back with a slight oof! even as he catches the figure, laughing as he spins her in a circle before setting her back on the ground.

"Hey, Raya," he greets.

Raya Vestri looks at him and asses, chin up and mouth scrunched in the same way she has since she was five. "Your hair's too short."

"I can never make you happy, can I?" Dick shakes his head, faux forlorn. "Last time, you said it was too long."

She laughs. "And last time, it was too long for a twelve year old. Now, it's too short for a twenty one year old. It's why you need to text me more. I know these things."

"She says," a new voice chimes in, "like a couple years ago, she wasn't the one that talked me into a cut so bad, Pop Haly almost made me a new act."

"Who could tell the difference," Dick teases.

Raymond McCreary rolls his eyes, punching Dick in the shoulder. "Can't believe I missed you." He looks to Raya. "You tell him yet?"

"Tell me? What I miss," Dick asks. "Tease me all you want, but, you know I am actually pretty good with a phone."

Raya snorts. "Some things are better in person." She motions to Raymond. "Alright, go ahead, I know you're dying to."

Raymond holds up his left hand with one shinning new addition to it. "Guess who finally made good on honoring my poor, forgotten virtue?"

"What virtue," Raya laughs even as she tugs an arm around him. She looks up at Dick. "The wedding's in June. Think you can make it?"

"I'll make it," Dick promises. "Congratulations!" His smile widens. "Both on that and the new act. You two were incredible."

Raya and Raymond share a pleased smile. Raya tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, just a little bit shy. "Well, it's Gotham. Thought we might as well pull out all the stops." She pauses. "We wanted to make it something really special. For you and John and Mary."

"They'd have loved it," Dick tells them softly and means every word.

"Yeah, well," Raymond coughs, cheeks going warm, "you know if you ever get sick of the smog and the big fancy towers, you can always come find Haly's. I suppose we'll let you stay, out of shape and all." Raya elbows him. "Ow, Raya, come on, if I'm too nice, he'll think I've been possessed!"

"Or matured," Raya mutters.

"That's even worse!"

Raya ignores him, eyes going behind Dick. "Besides, I think there's some people he wants us to meet."

Dick grins, catching their hands and pulling them to where his brothers, Alfred, and Barbara have finally made their way down.

It's a weird thing seeing two worlds collide, even when it's two parts that make Dick's family. In the end, though, Dick doesn't really have anything to worry about. After all, Dick can't think of a place that's warmer and better at taking in strays than Haly's. Dick's definitely biased but he can't imagine anyone seeing the tips of the circus tents and not feeling like they could find a home there.

The evening wears later-the night getting darker into the hours where words wear into yawns and most start looking for beds. In other words, the perfect time for vigilantes and performers.

The tent has already been secured for the night, various parts of the outside equipment secured against the weather. Which all means that the actual members of the circus are safe to laugh with each other, talking through the various tidbits of the performance and catching up with their long wayward member and the new strays he's brought to them.

Dick stealthily takes some pictures for Kory. Jason seems to have chanced on common ground with Jimmy-Haly's top clown that's always seemed ancient and crotchety even when Dick was a kid. From the sound of it, they seem to be halfway into a heated debate about the financial portrayals in Dickens' works. Dick rolls his eyes, wondering why Jason even pretends he's not the biggest nerd, before checking in on Tim, who seems to just be caught up watching everything as Barbara talks with Raya and Raymond.

He finds Alfred talking to Pop Haly.

"Hey," he smiles at them both, "why do I feel like I'm going to immediately regret introducing Babs to Raya."

Pop lets out a loud belly laugh. "I could have told you that you'd regret that hours ago." He slings an arm around Dick's shoulder. "Word to the wise, son, it's a brave, brave man that let's his girlfriend anywhere near Raya when she's feeling reminiscent."

Dick grins. "Not that brave, then, Babs isn't my girlfriend."

Pop huffs, hand moving up to cuff the back of Dick's head. "Then, where you hiding her? Don't tell me you're expecting us to buy the tabloids to find out."

"Kory's out of the country," Dick reassures. And the galaxy, he chooses not to add. "Working on a diplomatic project she couldn't get out of it."

"Well, I suppose that's a decent enough excuse," Pop says fondly. "Just understand you'll have to bring her to meet us one of these days. Don't think you're getting out of it that easily."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dick agrees before turning to Alfred. "Anything I miss."

"Mister Haly was just extending his condolences about Master Bruce," Alfred says quietly.

"Oh," Dick says for lack of something better.

"Was sorry to hear the news," Pop says solemnly. "Even more when you didn't make your trip to see us that year. Or after."

Dick grimaces. "Sorry...I...I just got busy."

"I understand," Pop says before clearing his throat, "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, lad. Lord knows we all needed time to adjust after that. I just wanted to remind you that you always have more family than you can see, son. Haly's always has room for its own.

"I know," Dick promises softly.

Pop Haly pats his back. "Good. Because I think there's someone else who's been missing your face."

Dick brightens. "She's here?"

"Isn't Haly's without her." Pop smiles. "Go on, she should be in the tent over by the trailers."

"Thanks," Dick breathes out, heart pumping just a little bit faster as his steps turn down the dirt paths, away from the campfire the group had set up and to the quiet trailers a bit further away.

There's one tent bigger than the others and Dick pulls towards it as if called.

He pulls back the tent flap and immediately stares at one of the most beautiful girls he's ever seen.

"Hey, Zitka," Dick grins widely, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

There's a sudden blow of a horn and, then, immediately a four ton elephant is running at Dick, wrapping her trunk around his waist and Dick laughs back at her.

He hugs her head, indulging as she lifts him up to wrap him even closer. "I missed you, too."

He leans his cheek against her big ears. "You know, Zitka, I'll admit, there's some parts about the past few years, I really can't tell Haly's about. But, you seem like you can keep a secret, don't you?" She finally lets him down and he lifts a hand to rub under her eye, the highest point he can reach. "Yeah, I know you can. Good, I've got sooooo much to tell you."

He hears the crunch of gravel behind him.

"But, maybe it'll have to wait a bit," he whispers before pitching his voice. "After all, it seems like we've got company."

He turns, standing in between Zitka and the intruder, and doesn't know if he's particularly surprised or not surprised at who he finds.

Well, looks like it's not going to be an entirely peaceful night after all.

"Helena," he smiles evenly, "I didn't know you were interested in running away to the circus? Here for a character reference?"

"Would you give me one?" Helena looks amused.

"Not sure yet." He nods to Zitka. "If you don't mind, I'm trying to catch up with an old friend. Can it wait?"

"Afraid not." She raises a brow. "You really choosing an elephant over me?"

"A thousand times," he says easily, patting Zitka to further prove the point. "After all, one of you I actually trust."

"Well, shit, I guess there goes my character reference," Helena retorts.

"I'm sure you can find a job elsewhere." He meets her eyes as he walks forward to meet her. "By the looks of it, you already have. I'm sure it would be very hard to explain to the cops why their footage as a woman without a face."

"Yet, I've noticed a distinct lack of Gotham PD locking me up. Almost like someone edited me out." She tilts her head, stepping forward as well until they're barely a foot away. "What are you thinking, Grayson?"

"That a corpse in my bed seems an awful lot like a mob warning," Dick says bluntly. "Thought you got out of the family trade, Helena?"

For the first time that night, the levity drops away and leaves behind something hard.

"I did," she says flatly.

"Sure, looks like someone's funding you," he observes, he breathes in and catches something very familiar.

Oh.

He continues anyway. "Someone with very deep pockets. You like to keep secrets now, Helena?"

"Like you're one to talk, Grayson." Her eyes are cold, assessing. "Or do you like 'Nightwing' better?"

Dick smiles because, by now, he's pretty sure he knows this game….or at least enough to figure out the opening play.

"You're not even going to try to deny it," Helena questions.

"Would there be a point?"

"I'd like to know how good you are at keeping secrets before I tell you mine?"

Dick's smile sharpens. "Oh, I'm very good with secrets. I'm even better at guessing others. Want to see?"

Helena tips up her chin in a challenge. "You're not the only one who knows how to play."

"Yeah, then what about a game?" Dick pretends to think. "Twenty questions. Yes or no, only."

Helena snorts. "I'll give you five."

"Guess I'll skip trying for your favorite color, then." Dick drops the smile. "You stayed in Italy instead of leaving with your family, didn't you?"

"Yes," Helena sounds bored. "Told you already, I'm not in the mob business."

"I'm sure that's part of it," Dick agrees, "but, the reason you stayed is you already found someone else to help you. Yes?"

Helena raises a brow before nodding.

Dick lifts his palm to ask for her hand and she gives it to him, letting him lift it to study the calluses on the pointer fingers-more suited for firearms and bows than finer instruments. "That's not who you're employed with now, is it?"

"...No," Helena admits, narrowing her eyes.

"But, it is how you know my identity."

"Yes."

"Final guess: you didn't come here alone." He drops her hand and steps back. "Don't worry about answering, I already know. Hey, Selina, enjoy the show?"

Selina steps in from the other side of the tent. "I did….but, I think I enjoyed this one more."

"How'd you know," Helena demands.

"It's easy to hide a face." Dick tells her. "But, your perfume smells like raspberry."

Helena looks more annoyed than impressed.

Selina, on the other hand, just looks heavily amused. "I told you he'd be perfect."

"Flatterer," Dick says dryly. "Perfect for what?"

"Well, remember that extra push? I might've had a bit of an ulterior motive for coming back to Gotham now," Selina says with a sigh.

Dick snorts. "You don't say."

"I need your help." She nods at Helena. "Technically, we need your help; but, I think it's for a cause you'll be very interested in."

Dick waits.

"What do you know about Spyral," Helena asks, arching her brow even as her hand goes to her hip. Really, now that Dick can place it, the mannerisms she's picked up from Selina are uncanny.

"...I take it we're not talking about the shape," Dick says.

Helena rolls her eyes. "They're a spy organization. An intelligence agency, my intelligence agency."

"Explains the new digital facial," Dick remarks before looking to Selina for further explanation.

"We want to take them down." Selina smiles. "And we'd like your help to do it."

"Secret intelligence agencies aren't exactly new," Dick replies. "Feels like every megalomaniac with a bit of a control problem tries to start one sooner or later. I think Tim's monitoring at least two dozen right now." He shrugs. "Honestly, they're more helpful to us than anything. Nothing like someone else doing the legwork for us to hack. Even with some fancy new toys, I don't see why Spyral's any more important."

Selina glances at Helena, nodding her forward.

"We believe Spyral's collecting the identities of every vigilante and metahuman with plans to sell them to the highest bidder." She glares up at Dick. "Including the Titans. If Spyral goes through with it, the entire hero organization is vulnerable. They would wipe out everything, just for the slim chance Spyral could take over the top."

Dick breathes out slowly, forcing himself to keep calm. "What proof do you have?"

Helena meets his eyes, fully serious.

"We think they already sold yours."

ooooooo

A/N: Thanks to everyone for your support! I really appreciate it!

Next Post Date: October 3-4th