Disclaimer: Insert humorous 'I don't own these characters' disclaimer here. Remember to take out these notes during the editing process. Get second opinion on whether 'humorous' disclaimer is, in fact, funny. Strike that. No one reads these things anyway.
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Partnerships
Chapter 2
Dick said his goodbyes with a minimum of ceremony. Pop was sorry to see him go, but made no effort to convince him to stay. He'd been anticipating it for months, and had quietly gone about not putting Dick's name on the advance billings. As Pop had known, Dick wasn't the boy who left six years earlier. Everyone else didn't make much fuss. Comings and goings were a part of this life.
Batman had said to wrap things up with his 'other life' and come to his home as soon as he was in Gotham. Dick wasn't sure he liked that part about having an 'other life'. Tiger was only a costume, a disguise. At the most, it was a persona, not a completely separate person. However little he liked that, though, he disliked the explicit order even more.
So he ignored it. After his flight touched down at Gotham International, he made his way into town, heading first to Selina's. She wasn't home, so he picked the lock of her apartment's front door and left a message on the kitchen table, teasing her about the run-of-the-mill deadbolt lock she used. Of course he knew that was deliberate on her part. Little in the apartment was irreplaceable, except her Catwoman gear, which was hidden and protected by a locking mechanism quite a bit more sophisticated. (He could beat that one too, it was one she trained him on, but there was no reason to.)
He left the apartment, checked himself into a suite overlooking Robinson Park, and walked through the streets, letting himself tune into the feel of Gotham City. He grabbed a hot dog from a street vendor, making his way through the shops and storefronts of central Gotham. His eyes were drawn to a store catering to tourists, the sign proclaiming 'huge selection of Bat-merchandise'.
Dick chuckled, tossed the paper wrapper into a garbage can and headed into the store. The sign didn't lie, it was a truly massive amount of junk. Most of it was just your garden-variety souvenir kitsch; t-shirts, coffee mugs, key-chains et cetera, with a yellow or black Bat-logo stamped on them. Then, there were the more 'inventive' efforts.
Dolls, for example. Some could get away with being called 'action figures', but some of the rosy-cheeked Bat-sprites on display could be called nothing other than a doll. Actual, life-sized costumes. Dick was amazed at the range of liberties taken with the design. There being no known pictures of him in costume, the kitsch-makers had to guess.
Most were either all-black or a slate gray costume with a black cape and cowl, with varying degrees of success regarding the details. May others had assorted shades of blue. Dick and Selina had seen him wearing a dark blue cape once. Both of them had teased the Dark Knight for 'showing a little color', and they never saw him in anything but 'basic Bat' ever since. One design had the gray with a neon blue cape and cowl, which struck Dick as incredibly weird. You didn't get the handle 'Dark Knight' by wearing bright colors. The worst interpretation was an 'action figure' that made Batman look skinny, had a red bat-logo and ears bigger than the figure's head. Dick grabbed that.
Most got the logo right, middle of the chest, roughly the right size, probably modeled after the signal shined from GCPD headquarters. Similarly, the cowl was largely correct, occasionally-odd color choices notwithstanding, although everyone seemed to be guessing just how lone the ears were. Some had belts, some didn't. One large teddy bear had a bat-logo, belts and boots all in the same yellow, making it resemble Barbara's costume more than Bruce's. It sported a pair of actual plastic pouches on the belt. A grin spread across his face.
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Twenty minutes later
The Gotham Public Library was a bit of a maze, but enough asking led him up the stairs towards an open office where a young redheaded woman sat at the computer, facing away from the door. Smiling, Dick set the bear down on the floor and crept silently across the office. He placed his hands over her eyes and said, "Surpr-" which was as far as he got before her elbow slammed into his midsection.
She grabbed his arm and spun around in her chair, flipping him over onto his back. Only they did she notice just who it was she was attacking. She stood, leaning over him, fists at her hips, glaring. "What are you doing?" she said angrily.
Dick, who had brought his hands up to protect his head against any follow-up attacks, answered somewhat weakly, "Attempting to be playful?"
Barbara's eyes searched the door and window for a sign that anyone had seen the incident, then breathed a sigh of relief. Shaking her head, she offered Dick a hand up, which he accepted. Noticing the bear, she asked, "What exactly is that?"
'This isn't going well…' Dick thought. "A present? For you?"
"I see," Barbara said, eyes narrowing. "So, basically, you came to my workplace, probably asked several people how to find me since the public directory doesn't show my office, all while carrying a large stuffed animal in a Batman costume."
"It's actually closer to-"
"Dick!" she interrupted. "I know what it's closer to." She sighed and slumped into her chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "You're sweet, but you're an idiot."
Looking for some way to salvage the situation, he picked the bear up off of the ground and held it up over his face. In his most gravelly voice, he said, "He's also a common criminal. I don't know why you even speak to him."
When he lowered the bear, Barbara's arms were crossed, but she was struggling to maintain a straight face. Giving up the effort, she laughed, reaching towards him. "You're a dork," she said. "Give me that bear."
He let her take it from him, and when she turned around, he reached forward, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I missed you," he said softly into her ear.
"Oh? You missed me just enough to get me a Bat-bear?" she teased. Despite her kidding, she leaned back against him.
"Look in the belt," he said. She craned her head to look at him curiously. He just grinned.
She pulled open the plastic flap on one of the pouches on the belt, pulling out the emerald earrings. Her breath caught. She stared at them for a moment, then put them on her ears. The green gems sparkled brilliantly against the red background of her hair, matching her eyes. She removed a small mirror from the purse on her desk, before turning to him, asking, "You didn't…"
"Entirely paid for," he said, which was true enough. He had stolen them the night before, of course, but he was technically correct that they were paid for. "As is what's in the other pouch."
She opened up the pouch and took out the ruby brooch. "A green top," she murmured, "no, a green dress." He could tell she was picture it in her mind. "To frame my fearful symmetry." Dick laughed softly at the reference to William Blake's poem 'Tyger, Tyger.' "I guess you did miss me," she said, reaching behind his head and bringing his lips to hers.
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That night
Barbara was having dinner with her father, so she had promised to meet with him the next day. After stopping by his hotel and changing, he took a taxi to Bristol. Walking up the steps of the stately Manor, he rang the doorbell. A balding man with a thin mustache opened the door, answering formally in an arch English accent, "May I help you, sir?"
Dick blinked. What was he supposed to do here? Did Bruce's butler even know about Batman? Best to be safe. "Richard Grayson. I have an appointment with Mr. Wayne."
"Yes sir," the butler said, nodding his head very slightly, "unfortunately Master Bruce feels you were entirely too late, and has gone out for the night. He requests that you return tomorrow at three-thirty, and that you be prompt."
"I see," Dick said. His impassive expression, an effort to match the Butler's, was somewhat strained by the effort of subduing an amazingly strong urge to claw Batman into tiny ribbons.
He looked behind him to see the taxi he'd arrived in retreating down the long driveway. As he did, the butler said, "Good evening sir," and proceeded to close the door.
Dick stared first at the closed door, then at the red tail lights of the cab, diminishing in brightness as they got more and more distant. Frowning, he walked back down the steps towards the long driveway. When he at last passed through the heavy iron gates, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cellphone.
Accessing one of the numbers on speed-dial, he held the phone to the side of his face as he began to walk into the Bristol night. After two rings, the person on the other end picked up. "Selina," he said, "feel like a prowl?"
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An hour later
With Barbara tied up by family obligations, it fell to Bruce to patrol Gotham City by himself, not that that was unusual. Perhaps it was just as well the Grayson boy hadn't shown up. Working with a partner without proper training would be even more difficult than working alone. His mouth tightened. He again wondered if he was doing the right thing, wondered if he was letting his sympathy for the orphaned teen cloud his judgment.
When he was considering the idea, he'd discussed it with Selina. They'd gotten very close over the past year, and she knew Dick Grayson better than anyone. She said Dick was trustworthy, and that one his trust was earned, he was fiercely loyal. Telling him how they'd met in the first place, she'd said, "I'm not surprised at the streak of compassion in him. If you get to know him, you'll see he's too good a person to let life beat that out of him. What surprises me is that he's never really learned to hide it."
So it was he that he had called when Grayson had arrived in Gotham City (he'd checked the airline's passenger records) and had failed to appear at Wayne Manor. "Could he be planning something?" he'd asked, his voice taking on a tinge of Bat-gravel.
"Yes Bruce," she'd answered with dry amusement, "If I know him, he's planning to pilfer a hot dog from his favorite vendor on forty-second street. And by 'pilfer', I mean 'buy'. He might stop by my apartment, though since I'm not there, he'll probably break-and-enter. You said he kept the brooch and earrings, right?"
"He paid for those."
"Smart kid. I taught him how to price jewelry. He figured out what'd look good on a green-eyed redhead on his own. That's the real heist he's planning, Bruce. He's going to attempt to steal your partner's heart."
"This isn't funny, Selina," Bruce graveled.
"It's very funny," Selina countered. "Whatever's he's doing, it's positively not-criminal, and you're still freaking out."
"…I am doing no such thing," Bruce protested. "I said to be here ASAP."
"And he replied with a stony silence you took for agreement, whereas he was stewing, wondering if agreeing to work with you was a good idea." She laughed softly. He enjoyed that laugh, even if it was directed at him. "Haven't we established that cats don't come when called?"
Alfred had reported Dick's arrival and subsequent departure almost an hour ago. As Bruce had ordered, he'd been turned away and told to come back tomorrow. It occurred to him that it wasn't exactly a welcoming gesture, but then he'd decided not to tempt the former thief with a house full of expensive items, many of which were easily portable.
His thoughts were interrupted when a report of a silent alarm came through. A jewelry store less than a half of a mile away. He fired his line and leaped off of the rooftop. As he approached the store, he saw a purple-clad figure on the roof of the building across from the jewelry store.'What is she doing?'
He pressed the release button on his grapple, retracting the line and letting himself drop to the rooftop. He landed, crouching, and straightened up, asking "What's going on?" To his knowledge, Catwoman hadn't committed an act of theft since the incident at the museum last year, and he'd kept (ahem) a very close eye on her. It was a measure of the growing strength of their relationship that, across the street from a just-burgled jewelry store, he no longer leapt to the obvious conclusion.
She smiled at him, bullwhip in hand, the other resting on your hip. "I'd say someone wanted to get your attention, Batman."
'Damnable woman…' he thought. "You know perfectly well how to contact me without setting off alarms." A low chuckle emitted from his throat, "And you've never had trouble getting my attention."
She grinned teasingly, "I said 'someone'. I didn't say who that someone is." Blinking behind his cowl, Batman spun around. Standing there, glaring at him, was Tiger. "You've gotten better at that," Catwoman noted.
"Maybe," the teenager replied, "Or maybe you've gotten better at distracting him." His voice was light, but his glare didn't lessen one whit.
Meanwhile, Batman's mind was racing. A set-up? Had they done this to…'To do what?' the logical part of its mind said as it caught up with the instinctive brain, 'Kill me? They could do that by having me meet her at her apartment. Steal something? They wouldn't have set off the alarm if they were doing that. Get a hold of yourself!' This was all internal. Outwardly, he didn't move a muscle.
"I thought we should talk," Dick said, "about the nature of our proposed partnership. If you've spent much time around her, I assume you've heard the phrase 'Cats don't come when called?'" Bruce resolutely did not look in Selina's direction, and the amused smile he knew he'd see there. "I'll take that as a yes. Well it applies to me too."
Bruce glanced in Selina's direction. "You called. She came." The instant the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Selina's smile vanished and her jaw clenched. Her grip on the bullwhip tightened.
Dick shook his head in disbelief. "I asked her. Please tell me you understand the difference. Look, I don't know how you and Batgirl do things, and that's between you two, but if you think you're hiring me as an apprentice or taking me on as a junior officer or whatever analogy you prefer that boils down to 'I take orders from you', let's just call this off right now and save ourselves the headache."
Now Bruce was glaring, "Then it's off. If I can't count on you to follow a simple instruction, I certainly can't count on you in the field!"
Hotly, Dick answered, "If you can't count on someone to know the difference between a life-and-death situation where an immediate response matters and you being a controlling, domineering jackass who thinks he can order me around, I'm not sure what you can count on them for!"
They both stood there glaring at each other, and simultaneously turned to face Selina. "How can you stand him?" they both shouted.
"It's not easy," she said dryly, glancing between the two of them. A high-pitched scream echoed from the alley below. Without even looking at each other, both of them immediately ran to the edge of the rooftop. A momentary glanced passed between them before they both jumped off. "Those two are going to be a hell of a team," Selina reflected. "Assuming they don't kill each other."
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Who says it can't be both?
It's certainly not going to be easy
especially when Barbara enters the picture
in Chapter 3