Title: Short Walk

Rating: We're definitely into PG-13 by now.

Disclaimer: All Batman-related characters belong to DC, the lucky dogs.

J. Todd: Sorry, yo! I forgot about this story! I've been busy with school stuff for the last month and a half, and I've been working on some other projects that kind of shoved this out of my mind. But, here you are!

General Apology: I realize I said I would resume on March 27. I also realize this is April 5. Things have been hectic, but I'll try to do better. And check my profile for some more fun and exciting stories!

Chapter 7: An Old Friend

A silky whisper.

A brief flash of movement.

A light footfall.

Tim grinned. "You're good," he told a shadow against the wall. "Better than I remembered."

The shadow emerged, revealing Batgirl. "Hello, Tim," she said. "We need your help."

"Don't you people understand the concept of 'retired'?" groaned Tim.

"Please," said Batgirl.

Tim sighed.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"Someone is killing girls," she told him. "It is your case. We need information."

"I seem to remember we just took the information back when I was around," Tim told her, a sardonic grin on his face.

"Things have... changed," she said. "More security. Less risk-taking. It's not like when you..."

"When I was Robin," finished Tim. "I was sorry to hear about Steph."

"Yet you didn't come to her funeral," Batgirl accused.

Tim sighed. "I couldn't. It would have been... difficult to explain."

"To Sharon Clarke," observed Batgirl.

"Yes," admitted Tim.

"Why did you not at least write or call?" asked Batgirl.

"I'm engaged to an FBI Agent," Tim half-laughed. "You can't keep that sort of thing a secret."

"But you have kept your past identity a secret," Batgirl pointed out.

Tim sighed again.

"I don't need this argument right now," he told her. "I'll get you copies of the files, but I'm guessing there's not much there you don't already know."

He turned to continue his walk down the empty street. Batgirl called after him, "You didn't ask about the others."

He paused. "What makes you think I care?" He felt more than heard her leave. His heart was heavy in his chest.

As he continued walking, he reflected. He hated acting so aloof, so cold, but he had to. For their own sakes he had to drive the others away. What he was planning to do must be kept to himself. Not the Bats, not Sharon. Just himself.

A shadow stands on the roof.

Gargoyles loom, huge and cold, around it.

It breathes.

It is a man. Tall, strong, standing straight.

He takes a deep breath, and goes over his mental checklist again. Grapnels. Staff. Gas. Flash bangs. Shuriken. Here goes nothing.

He spreads his arms like wings, and steps off the edge of the building.

For a brief moment, he flies.

He hasn't felt this free in years.

Then, at the last possible second, a small cord shoots out from the plummeting figure. Attached to the end is a small, sturdy hook. As he grasps the other end tightly, the hook seeks and finds purchase on a ledge.

His path arcs, and he is flung upward, into the sky. An amazing, floating sensation surrounds his entire body.

If God meant man to fly, He might have given us wings, but this probably comes close.

He soars for another moment, then lands lightly on the ledge. With a sharp jerk of his wrist, the grapnel is free and retracting, even as he eyes his next target.

Tim walked through his apartment door. He'd left his new costume in a safe house unknown to Sharon or anyone else. It was interesting keeping secrets from his fiancee sometimes, but he could still do it.

She was curled up in a huge overstuffed easy chair, reading, as he walked out of the short hallway and into the living room. Her reading glasses were perched on her nose, her hair pulled up in a ponytail on the back of her head.

He stood for a moment, just watching her, until she looked up and smiled.

"How are you so quiet?" she laughed. He chuckled, and crossed the short space to kiss her. "Trade secret," he replied. She leaned into him, nuzzling his throat for a moment, then pulled back.

"What's for dinner?" he asked. She laughed at him. "Always keeping your priorities straight, I see. Sex and stomach."

"I can go without the sex if you can," he told her with a straight face. She grabbed a cushion from the nearby sofa and tossed it at him. He caught it, laughing. She looked chagrined for a moment, but then joined him.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she replied. "We're having pizza."

"Hurrah!" cheered Tim.

Later that night, curled up in bed, Tim watched Sharon's sleeping form beside him. His heart wrenched at her beauty. He hated not being able to tell her everything, but he had people to protect. He couldn't reveal his own identity without risking theirs.

That never stopped Bruce, a treacherous little voice whispered. He grimaced. I'm not Bruce, he replied.

Sharon stirred beside him, bringing her back to the focus of his attention. He smiled gently, and pulled her closer to him, and drifted gently off to sleep.

From the Author: I bet you were all expecting Dick, weren't you? Admit it! Anyway, Next Time: Tim continues to work the case, while feeding information to the Bat-clan. But with Sharon getting suspicious, a bit of turbulence enters the sea of their romance. And with the killer picking up the pace, everyone must work fast to keep them from striking again! Stay tuned!

The Mighty Floyd