Steph jammed her feet into her boots and leaned down to lace them, her fingers a little clumsy in the thick green gloves. She was humming under her breath, twisting the laces into neat little bows before straightening, rocking back on her heels. Her cape swished as she affixed it to her shoulders, shrugging as it fell into place. She pushed her hair out of her face and placed the red headband on her head, pushing the blonde strands out of the way.

"Robin," came a gruff voice from behind her. She turned to see Bruce illuminated by the door at the top of the staircase. He descended into the cave, something clutched in his hands. The paper rustled as he tossed it to her.

She caught it easily, turning it around so it was the right way up. It was today's newspaper, APRIL 6th stamped at the top of the page, with some headline about a breakout from the asylum.

"What about it?" Steph asked, looking up to Bruce.

"Open it to the classifieds," Bruce replied. He was already in his armour and cape, sans cowl. "What do you make of it?"

Steph thumbed through the pages until she found the classifieds, near the back. Inside, there was a single ad, circled in red.

It is the Bat's turn to save the day,

Money and power if I have my way,

I know you're reading this with bated breath,

So riddle me this: what lives on after death?

"So I take it The Riddler was one of the Arkham escapees," Steph said wryly. She folded the newspaper and handed it back to Bruce.

Bruce grunted, which Steph took as confirmation, at least.

"He's challenging you," she said. "He's going to rob someplace and wants you to work out where."

"Yes," Bruce said with a deepening frown, "But the rhyming, the ad in the newspaper – it's unlike him."

Steph thought to times when she'd interacted with him in the past. Edward Nygma was a volatile man, to say the least. Neurotic, anxious – and compulsive. "He's dramatic," she said coolly. "Compulsive. He's challenging you because he thinks you're the only one smart enough to figure out the riddle."

Bruce got a strange look on his face. "You've been reading his file."

Steph had not been reading his file, but she chose not to mention this. "It's dumb, anyway, because the answer's pretty obvious. What lives on after death – your name. It's an ancient Egyptian belief. He's going to rob the Gotham District History and Archaeology Museum."

Bruce stared at her.

"They have an exhibit about Tutankhamen," Steph supplied helpfully. "A whole room of Egyptian treasures on loan from the British Museum. I'm pretty sure you paid for it, moneybags."

Bruce grunted again and pulled his cowl up over his face. "Put your mask on and get in the car, Robin."

"Roger that," Steph replied, sticking her domino mask around her eyes. She groaned when it stuck to the bottom of her eyebrow. Oh well. Look like she'd be getting a free eyebrow wax tonight.

She bounded her way over to the Batmobile, clambering inside and settling in against the passenger seat. Bruce revved the engine once, then shifted the gearstick into drive, putting his foot down on the accelerator. Steph closed her eyes and let the exhilaration from speeding down Gotham's backroads flow through her yet again. It didn't matter how many times she did this, she never seemed to tire of it.

Bruce's eyes drifted from the road to her face and back again. She shifted in her seat, and turned her head to look at him expectantly, waiting for him to berate her, but instead what he said was, "Did you do your homework?"

"Yes, Batman, I did my homework." She snorted. "You've got a stricter GPA requirement than the cheer team, you know."

She thought he might have been smiling when he said, "I just want to make sure you're getting your education, Robin." It was too dark to tell, though.

They fell into silence for a few moments, before Bruce said, "Is the cheer team something you're interested in?"

Steph wrinkled her nose. "Not exactly. I like the gymnastics, but I'm not so good at the optimism."

Bruce said quietly, "I think you manage the optimism just fine."

Steph ducked her head, biting her bottom lip. She wasn't sure if he meant it as a compliment – she was never sure, with Bruce – but it almost sounded like one. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she settled for looking out the window, watching city streets speed by in a blur of buildings and street signs, traffic lights and trees. The Gotham District History and Archaeology Museum was in the heart of the city, surrounded on all sides by art galleries and the Gotham proper branch of the Gotham City Library. She'd spent plenty of afternoons in the Newtown branch of the library before the funding cuts had caused it to close down.

She wondered briefly if Bruce could've gotten enough funding for it to reopen. Probably not. It wouldn't matter, anyway. The building was a movie theatre now, the whole neighbourhood slowly falling to gentrification.

"Almost there," she said instead, peering over the dash at the familiar city streets. Bruce pulled the Batmobile into an alleyway two streets over and killed the engine. Steph climbed out and pulled out her grappling gun, aiming it high at the building beside them.

She and Bruce flew through the air, landing on the rooftop with practiced ease, before taking off at a sprint towards the museum. Bruce soared between rooftops, and Steph flew behind him, landing light on her feet and with a grin on her face. The breeze tossed her blonde hair back from her face. Her heart pounded. She turned to Bruce with a laugh in her throat, but it died there when she saw how grim his face had gotten.

"Do you know how to bypass the security?" He asked, thumbing beside the eye of his cowl to zoom in on the museum. Steph leaned forward, peering at it herself. Her gaze was drawn to the two security cameras by the door.

"The security's off," she said confidently. She pointed them out to him. "Those cameras should have red lights on the left-hand corner of the base. Or they would if they were on, anyway. But they're not. Which means Riddler got into the security himself."

Bruce grunted, and then said, "Good catch."

Steph beamed at him, cracking her knuckles. "Where to, B-man? You go high and I'll go low? Go in together? How are we doing this?"

Bruce was silent for a moment, and then he pointed to the skylight at the apex of the museum's rooftop. "You enter through that. I'll take the stairs."

"So I go high and you go low. Got it!" Steph shot him finger guns before taking off, bouncing off rooftops as she made her way to the museum. Once she was on the roof, she turned back to wave to Bruce, but he had already disappeared into the shadows. She waved anyway, knowing that if he could see her, it might make him smile.

She hummed under her breath as she got to the skylight, running her fingers over the glass. She found a piece that wiggled in its frame, ill-fitting and a scant too small, so she managed to wedge her thumb out of it and slowly, painstakingly, lift the pane out of the frame and set it aside.

"Easy-peasy," she said to herself. She hooked one end of her line over the window frame and rappelled down, finding herself inside the museum's lobby. She could hear distant voices, so unhooking the line from her belt, she made her way into the depths of the museum, taking a left at the astronomy exhibit until she found the Tutankhamen display.

It still took her breath away, though she'd seen it on a class trip not to long ago. The glimmering gold of the sarcophagi, the brilliant blue hues of the gemstones, the scarabs and the hieroglyphs lining the walls. It was a great exhibit.

Too bad it was currently being looted by possibly the two dumbest criminals known to mankind.

"Hey, Vinny. What'd the boss want? That red thing or the beetle?"

"I don't know, man. The red thing, I think. Akhenaten's Treasure or something."

"The fuck is an Akhenaten?"

"I don't know, man."

Steph cleared her throat, and they turned to look at her, one with a crate under his arm filled with priceless artefacts.

"You want the red thing," Steph said cheerfully. "Akhenaten's Treasure was a ruby the size of a modern-day golf ball, thought to hold the spirits bound to him."

"Thanks, kid," Vinny said cheerfully, reaching into the display case and swiping up the ruby, dropping it into the crate. Steph raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat again. The two goons looked up from the display case, realisation dawning on their faces. They looked at each other. They looked back at Steph.

"Oh, shit," the one who was not Vinny said.

"Robin!" Vinny cried, and he thrust the crate into Not-Vinny's arms, sprinting away. Steph grinned and gave chase, swiping his feet out from underneath him and tackling him to the ground, twisting his hands behind his back and zip-tying them there.

"Stay still, okay?" She said, tugging the zip tie. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"No 'fence, Robin," Vinny grunted, squirming so he could turn his head to look at her, "But you're probably the one about to get hurt."

"Nope," Steph said cheerfully, rolling off Vinny and kicking her legs upwards and into Not-Vinny's stomach. He wheezed, dropping the crate and its contents on the floor, apparently regretting his decision to try and sneak up on her. The ruby started to roll away, and Steph darted forward and swiped it up before the goon could get his stubby fingers on it. She tucked it away in one of her tunic's pockets and whirled, dispatching of the goon before he could make a move on her.

"Ooft," he managed as he hit the ground beside Vinny. Steph got to work zip-tying his hands.

"You couldn't knock out Princess Barbie Doll?" Vinny mumbled. Steph smacked him across the back of the head and returned to zip-typing his companion's hands.

"That's no princess," he replied. "That's Robin, Vinny."

Steph felt a flare of warmth in her chest.

"You boys behave now," she grinned. "I've got to go have a word with your boss."

Steph took off into the depth of the exhibit, making her way past display cases and a mock-pyramid built in the middle of the room. She sidestepped it, peering her ears for further sounds. She could hear distant grunts, the sound of someone getting their ass handed to them by Batman.

"Riddle me this," came a voice behind her. She whirled around. The Riddler stood there, in a form-fitting three-piece suit, a crossbow in one hand and a cane in the other, the handle silver and curved into the shape of a question mark. His jacket and pants were a deep emerald, his vest and tie a vibrant purple, and he had a black-and-green bowler hat perched over his chestnut hair. He grinned at her, almost lazily. "What's dressed like a traffic light and about to have a couple of holes in it?"

"Not me!" Steph shot back, flipping away from the arrow he fired in her direction. She sidled up close and threw a punch, landing it in his chest, knocking him off balance.

"Wait," The Riddler rocked back on his heels, holding the crossbow up. "I know that voice."

Steph froze.

"Steph?" The Riddler squinted at her, leaning down to get a better look at her features. "Stephanie Brown, is that you?"

"No!" Steph said, and she swung one leg through the air, landing it in his crotch with as much force as she could muster. He dropped, clutching at his nether regions with a groan.

"Say, it is you!" He managed. After a few minutes curled in on himself, he peered up at her curiously. "How've you been, kid? We've been worried. After what happened last year, we thought you'd gotten out of the game, but look at you! Swapped the purple cape for body armour – you're Robin!"

"Shut up!" Steph threw a punch at his face as he made it onto his knees. He groaned again, head dangerously close to the ground.

"C'mon, kid, is that any way to treat your Uncle Eddie?"

"You are not my uncle!" Steph kicked him again. "You're just some freakazoid friend of my deadbeat dad!"

"HA! It is you!" Riddler crowed, just as Batman called out a sharp, "Robin!"

Steph winced, and started unwinding the rope from around her belt, to bind The Riddler's wrists and ankles with. She kicked the crossbow out of his reach and started twisting rope around his arms, pulling them sharply behind his back.

"Aw, kid, were you the one who worked out the riddle?" The Riddler was grinning at her, craning his neck to see her face. "You were, weren't you? You were always so quick with your old man's clues."

"Shut up, Uncle Eddie," Steph mumbled. Her face was hot. She pulled the rope tight, looping it around itself in one of the many knots Batman had taught her. "I'm not Stephanie Brown. I'm Robin, the girl wonder."

"I'm so proud of you," Riddler babbled on. "You're doing alright for yourself."

Steph's face grew hotter, both at the praise and at those words she always seemed to need to hear.

"Robin!" Batman called from across the foyer. "Take Riddler to the stairs outside and tie him to the centremost column. I'll be with you shortly."

"You got it, boss man," Steph called back. She looked down at The Riddler, tied up and looking up at her with an almost fond expression on his face. She reached down and grabbed him, tossing him up and over one shoulder, grunting from the weight.

The riddle-loving criminal didn't seem to object, nor did he say anything again until they were outside and Steph was depositing him in front of the column just outside the doors. She took more rope and wrapped it around his middle, affixing him to the column quickly.

"Hey, Steph?" The Riddler said quietly. Steph looked up from the knot she'd been tying. "If the hero gig doesn't work out…get in touch. I meant what I said. You've got more brains than your pops gives you credit for, and you'd be an asset in our line of work."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Steph replied, pulling the knot tight. "I'm happy with what I'm doing."

She slipped a finger under the rope to make sure it wasn't so tight it would constrict his blood flow, and then after a moment loosened the knot a little. She sighed and pressed her forehead to the column, and then said, quiet enough that nobody else would be able to hear, "I'm sorry I kicked you in the balls."

"That's quite alright," The Riddler chuckled. "You've always had that fighting spirit. Good to see you put it to good use."

"Yeah," Steph replied, uncertainty colouring her tone. "I just…you're doing okay, right, Uncle Eddie? This isn't a…was Arkham helping?"

The Riddler grew quiet, shifting uncomfortably, tugging slightly at the rope that bound him there. Quietly, he said, "Arkham is hell, and it helps no one."

Steph, taken aback, knew not what to say.

"Robin," Batman barked. Steph snapped to attention, looking up. "Head for the car. I'll finish up here."

"Got it, boss," Steph said, firing her grapple into the night. She swung from the museum across to the bank, and then further down, cutting through the park until she made her way back to Burnside, where they'd left the car. She slouched against the passenger door and tugged off a green glove with her teeth, inspecting her fingernails under the dim streetlights. There was a thud from above her, and she hurriedly pulled the glove back on, looking around.

"Robin," Batman appeared on the other side of the car, stepping out of the shadows like he belonged to them. "Get in."

Steph clambered inside, waiting until the doors were closed tight and the tinted windows obscured her before she started tugging at the mask adhered to her face. She pulled it off with one sharp pull, leaning back and huffing. Bruce, likewise, had pushed the cowl off his face, transforming him from creature of the night to stoic, but still human, man.

"Got any snacks, B-man?" She asked, pulling the gloves free and flexing her fingers.

"Glovebox," Bruce grunted, focusing on the road ahead.

Steph dug around inside the glovebox, pulling free a bag of chips. Doritos, Nacho Cheese. Tim's favourite flavour.

She tore it open and started shovelling chips into her mouth, trying to ignore the sting that came from everything still being Tim's. Tim's chips in the Batmobile. Tim's passwords on the computer. It was such a stupid thing to be hurt by, but it hurt nonetheless.

"You want some?" Steph asked, holding the bag out to Bruce. He eyed it suspiciously for a moment, before reaching in, pulling out a single chip, and putting it in his mouth with a crunch.

God, Steph thought fondly. He was so weird.

Bruce chewed slowly, eyes trained on the road ahead. Steph tipped the last of the crumbs into her mouth, licking cheese powder from her fingers. Bruce glanced to her, an amused expression crossing his face, before his brow furrowed.

"What kind of chips do you like?" He asked, pulling onto the highway that led out to the outskirts of Gotham.

"Oh, uh." Steph blinked. "Salt and vinegar. You can't go wrong with a classic, right?"

Bruce grunted. "I'll have Alfred buy some and add them to the supplies."

Steph looked down, feeling heat creep up the back of her neck, shifting with discomfort at the idea that Bruce was changing things for her sake. She didn't want to seem like it was a big deal, but it kind of was a big deal, at least to her. She never would have thought in a million years that Bruce would care enough about what chips she liked to include them in the rotating supply of vigilante snacks.

"What about drinks?" Bruce asked. "Dick was partial to apple juice, but I'm sure there must be something else you prefer."

"Um," Steph swallowed. "Apple juice is fine."

Bruce's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't press the issue, instead turning onto the backroad that led back to the cave. As he pulled into the cave and killed the engine, he turned to look at her. With his brow furrowed and a frown on his lips, he looked…aged. Haggard, almost.

"I want this to be your space, too," Bruce said. "You're Robin now. Nobody else is. You've been handling yourself admirably, and your efforts deserve to be recognised, even in something as simple as having your favourite drink in the car."

Steph wondered what half-assed parenting book he was pulling this from.

"Salt and vinegar chips," she said firmly. "Apple juice is fine."

Bruce stared at her for a few more seconds, like he could divulge what she was thinking out the micro expressions on her face, but after a moment he nodded.

"Okay, Robin," he said. "Done."

"Cool," Steph said. She opened the car door and slid out, stretching her legs, cracking her neck. Bruce, likewise, got out, closing the door with a decisive thud. Steph started to make her way towards the change rooms, eager to get out of her tunic and back into some leggings and a t-shirt.

"Robin," Bruce called after her. Steph paused, and then, in his deep voice, "Stephanie."

She turned, shoving her hands into the pockets of her tunic and rocking back on her heels. "Yeah, boss man?"

"You did well tonight," Bruce said gruffly. "I'm…proud of you."

Steph felt her face pinch up, and worked on maintaining a neutral expression. She failed, though, because her bottom lip trembled.

"Yeah?" She asked, ducking her head and looking at Bruce's feet. She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"Yes," Bruce said, his voice firm.

Steph swallowed hard, and then gave him her sunny grin, the one they'd all come to expect on. It didn't quite hide the shine in her eyes, but it came close enough. "Thanks, B," she said. "I did my best."

He reached out, gave her shoulder a firm squeeze, and then moved past her, into the darkness, his cape trailing behind him. Steph pumped her fist into the air, her face splitting into a grin. He was proud of her! She'd done it!

She was going to do even better. He would see.

They would all see.