Jennifer Hill couldn't believe it. She'd just bought these tires a month ago! And what good was that fancy roadside assistance package doing her, if she couldn't reach them! Disgusted, she got out of her car and went back to inspect the damage. She hadn't changed one of her own tires since she left Nebraska, but maybe she could find a payphone... Oh, my!

Her thoughts skittered to a stop as she saw the young man on the motorcycle behind her. He took off his helmet and sunglasses, and her breath caught in her throat -- he was gorgeous! Thick, black hair, squarish jaw, blue eyes...he almost looked familiar somehow, but she couldn't quite place him unless maybe he was a model or something? Oh wait, his lips were moving; he must be talking...

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The gorgeous man smiled, revealing a hint of a dimple in his cheek as well as a set of strong white teeth. When these things were coupled with the twinkle in eyes, he was somehow even more attractive.

"I asked if you could use a hand?"

She managed to corral her wayward thoughts enough to form a coherent answer. "I think so. I tried calling for roadside assistance, but my cell phone isn't working."

He smiled at her again. "Let me take a look. Do you have a spare?"

She nodded and popped the trunk so he could see. He took off his leather jacket and got to work. Within a few minutes, he had the car up on the jack and was making quick work of removing the flat tire. Jennifer found herself almost hypnotically watching the play of the man's muscles as he turned the tire iron. He certainly had a lot of muscles...

Far too soon for her liking, the young man had finished changing the tire, put the flat tire and the jack back into her trunk, and was wiping his hands off on a rag from his saddlebags. She sauntered over to him, feeling challenged enough to see if she could affect him as much as he was affecting her. From the smile and raised eyebrow he gave her, she thought she might have succeeded.

"I'd like to thank you for helping me out like this," she said huskily.

"How about having dinner with me this evening?" he asked somewhat bluntly. At her start of surprise, he continued, "I'm new to Chicago -- I don't know anyone here, and I'm not all that eager to eat by myself. Would you care to join me? My name's Robbie Malone, by the way." He offered her his hand.

She took it, and was then slightly surprised when he brought it to his lips to kiss the back of her knuckles. "Jennifer Hill," she replied. "I did have...plans for the evening, but...nothing that can't be changed."

"Great." He treated her to that bone-melting smile again. "Do you want to meet me somewhere? I'd offer to pick you up, but this bike isn't really built for that sort of thing."

When it came to men, Jennifer tended to trust her instincts which had rarely been wrong. She was intrigued by this man, and her instincts told her he wouldn't hurt her. She made her decision. "Why don't you meet me at my place, and we can go in my car?"

"That works for me. About 8?"

"Eight would be fine. Let me give you my address," she said as she pulled some notepaper out of her purse.

He took the piece of paper from her, opened her door for her as she got back in her car, and returned her wave as she drove away. "Robbie Malone" then got back on his motorcycle and drove back to his hotel.


****

Dick heaved a mental sigh of relief as he parked Jennifer's car in her garage. He got out and opened the passenger door and helped Jennifer out. Slightly tipsy, she giggled and wound her arms around her escort and tried to pull his head down for a kiss.

"Ah, why don't we go inside where we'll be more comfortable?" he suggested somewhat desperately. She giggled again, and he managed to steer her inside without too much difficulty. She wanted to head straight for the bedroom, but he was able to nudge her towards the living room couch instead. Once there, she collapsed in a heap, pulling him down on top of her.

Dick finally decided he'd had enough. While Jen busied herself kissing his face and trying to pull his jacket off, he held his breath and broke open one of the sleeping gas capsules he had brought with him. Jennifer looked startled for a moment and struggled to resist the effects of the gas, but it (and the alcohol) was too strong for her. As soon as she went limp, Dick sat up, straightened his clothes, and ran his hands through his hair.

"Babs! You there?"

"Sure thing, Romeo!"

"Aww, Babs, please don't joke about this! I have had the worst evening I can remember since...I don't know when."

"Hey, this was all your idea, remember? What went wrong?" Barbara tried to keep her voice light, but he could hear a hint of worry behind the question.

"I guess it wasn't all that bad -- it was embarrassing, more than anything else."

"What was, Former Boy Wonder?"

"Dinner started off all right, I guess. It was a one of those fancy-schmancy restaurants where the food was supposed to make a 'statement' and the waiters were all snobs or bullies. Between the restaurant and my dinner companion's supposed 'conversation,' I kept flashing back to all those society functions Bruce used to torture me with. Then she started getting drunk!"

"Poor baby," Babs snickered.

"You can laugh! She kept running her foot up my leg! Then she decided to sit next to me, and oops! guess who dropped her earring in my lap and had to retrieve it? Sheesh!"

Dick started smiling a little at the whole absurdity of the situation. "Anyway, she's out of my hair now. Everything cool with the security system?"

"You bet. Her cameras now have no idea you ever existed. I don't detect any alarms anywhere else on the premises, so you can explore at will."

"Thanks, sweetheart. How's the money situation?"

"I tracked down her 'blackmail' account with no problem. There's actually more than enough funds to transfer back to Palmer Electronics."

"Okay. I'll give you a shout as soon as I locate the video tapes."

"All right. Dinah is about to go into action against some terrorist thugs, so I may not answer immediately."

"I understand. I'll call you in a little bit." He sighed as Babs disconnected. At least talking to her had cheered him up some after having been manhandled, or rather, woman-handled all evening. "Now if I were blackmail material, where would I be?" he muttered to himself as he pulled some surgical gloves out of his pocket.

Deciding to begin with the most logical spot, Dick started his search in her bedroom closet. After picking his way gingerly through the cramped space (how many shoes can one woman wear for Pete's sake?), he found his objective -- a small safe hidden behind the rack of clothes. On a hunch, Dick tried pulling the handle. Yep, she hadn't bothered to turn the dial to lock the safe. Shaking his head, he opened the door. Inside were four video tapes and two large envelopes. Hmmm. Maybe Thompson wasn't her only victim.

As Dick took the materials out of the safe, a sense of deja vu washed over him. At first, he couldn't think why, but then a cold chill went up his spine as he remembered. It was seeing his hand covered with the surgical glove reaching into the safe that triggered the memory. Yes, this certainly was a night for flashbacks ...


****

It had happened when Dick was fourteen, after a charity softball game, of all things; Dick's school had proposed the game as one of their main fundraisers. The boys played against their fathers, cheered on by spectators who had paid dearly for tickets. It was a hard-fought contest, but in the end, youth (and more recent softball experience) had prevailed. Dick was celebrating with his classmates, so he hadn't really noticed when Jeremy McNabb had joined them.

McNabb was a partner in a large brokerage firm and a member of one of Gotham's oldest families. He was on every society matron's A-list and was the chair of quite a few charitable commitees. Dick couldn't stand the man. However, Alfred had always enjoined him to be polite, so when McNabb asked to speak to him privately, Dick agreed. Once McNabb was alone with Dick, his demeanor shifted slightly; Dick became uncomfortably aware of how close the man was standing to him.

"What did you need to see me about, Mr. McNabb?"

And McNabb told him. Fortunately, before McNabb could really do anything, one of Dick's teammates had come looking for him, and he was able to escape. Later that night, as he lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, he reviewed the situation.

McNabb had given him a choice: sex with him or see Bruce turned in as a child molester with an "anonymous" tip to Child Protective Services. Dick clenched his fists in frustration at the problem before him. Part of him wanted to tell Bruce -- have Bruce make it all go away -- but he knew that was a child's reaction, a pretense he could no longer afford. As he looked back over the last few years, Dick wasn't really sure when he had ceased to feel like a child. Maybe it was realizing that his decisions could save or condemn his fellow Teen Titans' lives; maybe it was seeing all the darkness and corruption on his nightly patrols with Batman; perhaps it was when he first heard the rumors being spread about his relationship with Bruce. The idea that people could think something like that about a man he regarded as his father (although he was careful not to call him that) was hideous. That talk, of course, gave weight to the force of McNabb's threat.

But what to do about McNabb?

As he lay there, he began to wonder...Surely he wasn't McNabb's first target? Assuming there were others, maybe he could find some evidence that would expose McNabb, thus nullifying his threat. And tonight would be a perfect night to do it, since both Bruce and McNabb would be occupied with one of those society dinners that Bruce hated. Alfred would be off with Bruce, keeping an ear on the police scanner in the Bentley in case Batman's presence was needed.

Technically, Robin had proved he could take care of himself and was allowed to fly solo. In actuality, Bruce strongly disapproved of his going out alone and had set up several barriers to prevent this -- Robin wasn't supposed to go out unless his homework had been done, his work for Batman had been done, and Alfred was available to monitor his communications. Oh well. If he could pull this off, he should be back in the Manor before either of them noticed he was gone.

Once Bruce and Alfred had left for the party, Dick put his plans in motion. After some thought, he decided to do most of his work as Dick Grayson. If worse came to worst, he would rather be caught as Dick Grayson than risk Robin's identity. He put his gear together, mounted his motorcycle, and sped away from the Manor, leaving a short note on his pillow, just in case.

When he reached the McNabb estate, Dick reviewed his earlier research. Knowing Bruce, he hadn't been surprised to find complete floor plans and security diagrams for the house and grounds. While he didn't think Bruce had intended them to be used in breaking and entering, Dick was grateful for the assistance. As the notes indicated, there weren't many servants around at night, so he was able to wander about pretty much at will. Just to be on the safe side, he wore surgical gloves to make sure he left no fingerprints.

Dick struck paydirt when he reached the master suite -- specifically the rudimentary safe built into the closet. The standard-issue combination safe was no match for a student of the Bat, although Dick shook his head in some amusement at the purposes his skills had been used for that evening. All thoughts of humor left his face as the contents of the safe were revealed. For a few seconds, he was afraid that he was going to disgrace himself by being violently, physically ill.

The safe contained pictures. Pictures of boys alone and with men. Dick fought off his nausea as he forced himself to look through the photos. There! That was McNabb! And with him...

Once again, Dick had to fight against throwing up. Right there in front of him was Jeremy McNabb, pillar of the community, favorite of Gotham's society matrons, engaging in sexual acts with an obviously terrified boy of Dick's age. Dick knew the boy was his age because he sat across from Dick in American History class.

Very carefully, Dick replaced the photos in the safe, spun the dial back to where it had been, and put everything back into place in the closet. He left the estate, found his motorcycle, and just sat there in the dark, trying to think about what he should do, instead of what he had seen. Finally, he changed into his Robin costume and rode into downtown Gotham.

If things hadn't been so serious, Dick would've gotten a kick out of Captain Gordon's start of surprise when he saw Robin tapping at his window. Once Gordon had let him in, and Robin had assured him that Batman wasn't in trouble, Dick wasn't sure how to proceed. Gordon sensed his discomfort and tried to help him out.

"Is there something I can help you with, Robin?"

"Yes sir, ..."

"Robin?"

"Sir, uh, Batman has told me that you can get a search warrant based on an anonymous source."

"It's called a 'reliable informant,' that's right."

"And you don't have to name the source?"

"Correct. If I swear an affidavit that a reliable anonymous informant has given me reason to request a search, the judge won't require me to name my source." Gordon stared at him expectantly.

"Okay." Dick took a deep breath. "I think you should search the house of Jeremy McNabb for child pornography."

"..." Gordon just stared at him in shock. "Jeremy McNabb?!?"

"Yes sir. And yes, that Jeremy McNabb." As Gordon just stared at him, Dick continued, trying to remain as impassive as he knew Batman would. "A friend of mine told me McNabb had approached him for sex; when I searched through McNabb's house, I found a safe in his bedroom with...photos of ..." Dick trailed off, finding it impossible to continue. He turned his head away from Gordon in shame at his weakness but started when he felt Gordon's hand grasp his shoulder in comfort.

"I...understand, son. You said these photos were in a safe in his bedroom?"

Dick nodded.

"All right. I'll get the warrant." He ruffled Robin's hair and tried to inject a lighter tone in his voice, "and we'll just pretend I didn't hear you say you broke into his house."

As Gordon turned away, Dick called out, "Captain? Could you do me another favor and not mention any of this to Batman?"

Gordon turned back. "So Batman doesn't know about this?"

"No, sir. And I'd really rather he didn't."

Gordon stared at him for a few moments, and then said, "I'll agree on one condition. Can you swear to me that none of those pictures are of you? That McNabb didn't ..."

Dick quickly assured his friend, "I promise, Captain! Like I said, all I knew was that he had made some overtures to a...friend of mine. That made me suspicious."

"All right, son. I believe you."

"Thanks, sir!" Robin called out as he leapt out the window and headed back home.

Captain Gordon had gotten his search warrant, descended upon the McNabb estate, and found Jeremy McNabb's cache of child pornography. Gotham City was shocked when word of his arrest hit the news. Prosecutors even persuaded Dick's classmate to testify against McNabb, which combined with the photos, assured his conviction on charges of child pornography and molestation. Dick tried not to take satisfaction from McNabb's "accidental" death once he was in Blackgate Prison. It seemed convicts didn't like child molesters either.

And as far as he could tell, only Gordon knew the role Dick had played in that little drama.