Disclaimer: Zatanna cast a spell on me. She said "Uoy t'nod nwo eseht sretcarahc..." Spiteful hctib.

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Partners

Chapter 4

"Coffee", Barbara had suggested, and coffee it was. They'd both given each other abbreviated backgrounds. She was twenty-one, her father was a cop, she worked as a librarian and studied law. He had told her that he was nineteen (a lie), that he had grown up in the circus (true), and that he did odd jobs while studying whatever took his fancy (true, if not the whole truth). Barbara smiled and said, "Quite the modern-day gypsy, aren't you?"

"Romany," Dick corrected, not disagreeing with her.

Barbara's eyebrow arched, "I realize that the term is a misnomer with regards to the people, but the connotation..." she stopped as she noticed Dick's smile, "Don't tell me."

Dick grinned and nodded. "On my father's side." They both laughed. He asked, "Ok, having verified that you are in fact reasonably intelligent..." he began.

"Reasonably?" she said archly.

"That's all I've verified..."

"Nice save."

"Thank you. Anyway, having verified reasonable intelligence, what were you doing in that alley, anyway?"

Barbara's cheeks colored. "A police car passed by on the street."

Dick's surprise was evident. 'Ok, beautiful, smart, funny...and on the run from the law? Someone likes me.' He found himself saying, "Uh, if you need a place to-" and was interrupted by an outburst of laughter from her.

She shook her head and tried to answer, "Not like..." but couldn't go on, as paroxysms of laughter overwhelmed her again. Dick felt his face reddening. Others in the restaurant stared at the pair, the laughing girl and the blushing boy. Getting control of herself, she said, "Oh God, I'm sorry Dick, but I'm not a criminal," laughing a bit more before saying, "I told you, my Dad's a cop. We had an argument, and I wouldn't put it past him to tell the guys to watch for me."

Dick, still blushing furiously, nodded in understanding. 'Good one, Grayson. Offer a cop's daughter your place as a hideout. Fucking brilliant.' He forced himself to smile with her, saying, "If it's not too personal, what was the argument about?" Barbara stopped laughing, and her face turned stony. 'Uh-oh' He said, "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

Barbara shook her head. "No, no, it's not you." She sighed, "I love what my father does, and I know I could do it too. My academy application was rejected again. It's not even a matter of needing his help, every guy on the board knows Captain Gordon doesn't want his daughter on the force, so he doesn't even have to say a word and it's still impossible. So now I'm finding another way-" she cut off somewhat abruptly.

"I can't quite relate, there," Dick said. "My parents had me in the family business at the age of eight." She smiled, her cheeks dimpling, and he asked,"What?"

"I'm just picturing you dressing up in tights and flying around."

"Better than picturing my flying around without tights, I suppose," her cheeks flushed, and he grinned. "Or maybe not," he said laughing. She smiled and shook her head, fighting off a yawn. "Bored of me already?" he asked lightly.

"No, not at all. I'm just not used to the late nights, yet."

Dick nodded. 'Yet?' he thought, asking, "Can I walk you home?" then hid a wince behind a sip from his cup. 'To meet her police captain dad? While you're at it, why don't you fix him up with Selina?'

"Down, tiger," she said with a smile. Her calling him that made him cough and sputter violently. "Are you alright?"

He coughed once more and said hoarsely, "Just went down the wrong pipe. M'okay." He cleared his throat, then pulled his wallet out. He took one from a thicker sheaf of bills than Barbara would have expected, and laid the twenty onto the table.

When he stood, as if to leave, she arched an eyebrow. "Bit much for two cups of coffee," she noted.

Dick shrugged. "Smallest one I have, and I hate waiting for change."

Curiouser and curiouser. 'Who's he doing odd jobs for?' she thought, 'the mafia?' "I'll tell you what," she began, but was interrupted by a massive clatter from the kitchen. It sounded like half the kitchen had just fallen to the floor.

Everyone was briefly silent, until Dick joked loudly, "You know, on second thought, hold the eggs!" eliciting a couple of chuckles (and several pairs of rolled eyes). He glanced towards the kitchen, then frowned. There was no more sound coming from inside. The kind of mess that made that noise wasn't generally easy to clean up in silence. Some instinct was telling him something was wrong, and Selina always advised listening to those. He walked across the diner, towards the ktichen.

Barbara wasn't watching the kitchen, she was watching him. His goofy joke made her smile, but he'd gotten this odd look on his face, then suddenly headed for the kitchen. After a moment's pause, she followed him. She half expected him to kick the door open, Hollywood-style, but instead he gently pushed it open just enough to slip through quietly. She slipped in after.

Pots and pans and dishes were scattered all over the kitchen. Two large men in black suits were standing over an elderly man in a dirty white apron. The cook's nose was bleeding heavily, and one of the two thugs was holding one of the man's skillets in his hand. "You don't seem to understand how this works, pal," the other one said. "Your payment is on time, and in full, or else. If you aint makin' enough money in this dump, make better food." Neither seemed to notice the two who had entered.

Barbara glanced in Dick's direction, and almost recoiled in surprise. An expression of pure rage had appeared on his face. In a soft, snarling whisper, barely audible, he said, "Protection." Before she could even nod her head in assent, he was in motion. In the alley, she'd seen that he handled himself well. Her, in the kitchen, she saw just how well.

He began by kicking out the legs of the talkative one, sending the big man sprawling onto his back. "What the-" the other one began before Dick sank his fist into the man's gut. He swung the frying pan at Dick's head, but Dick effortlessly ducked, and when the swing left the larger man off-balance, Dick grabbed at the back of his sport coat with both hands, and rammed the man's face into the wall.

While the one man slumped unconscious to the floor, the other had struggled back to his feet, but Dick was on him in an instant. As fast as Barbara could see, he rammed an elbow into his solar plexus, a knee into his gut, and a kick to the back of his head. She'd only seen one man move that fast. The man stumbled forward towards the kitchen's cooktop. 'Snap out of it!' she thought and raced forward to keep him from falling face-first onto the griddle.

She reached for one arm, and saw Dick was holding the other. Before she could pull the man away, Dick had grabbed his hair, growling, "Your boss, who is he?" The man was speechless, staring at Dick in shock. He pushed the man's face inches away from the sizzling cooktop and said, "One last time. Tell me your capo's name, or they'll serve you with hash browns, capice?"

Barbara had already begun sizing up Dick for a punch to the short ribs to pull him away from the man, when he decided to talk. "Bertinelli!" he shouted.

"Good call," Dick said, not letting him up yet. "Now here's the deal. You're going to keep your word when it comes to 'protection.' This place is off your list, permanently. You don't steal any more of his money, and nothing happens to the owner, the restaurant, or anyone in it. Anything happens, Bertinelli finds out you ratted him out. We have a deal, or are you breakfast?"

"We got a deal!" the panicked man said.

"Good." Dick said, pulling him away from the heated metal. He tugged on the man's lapels, straightening them, and then smashed his fist into the man's temple, sending him out cold to the floor. Barbara observed this all without interfering. On the one hand, she would have preferred to call the police, but on the other, she could hardly oppose what he'd done without choking on the hypocrisy of it. Dick grabbed a pen and wrote a phone number down, handing it to the cook. "Get some ice on that," he suggested. He pulled a pen out of the man's apron and wrote a phone number down, "These guys or any of their buddies drop by, call me. I won't answer, but I'll get the message."

Without waiting for an answer, he stalked off towards the back-door exit. She stared. Dick was reminding her quite a lot of him. She could have called her father, but she knew where that would lead. Even if they got an honest judge, the two goons would be looking at 18 months at most. Not enough to roll over on this Bertinelli guy. Meanwhile, someone would be back.

She made her way around the assorted pots and unconscious mobsters, following Dick out into the alley. Trying for levity, she said, "Well, our date started in an alley, I guess it's only right that it ends in one." Dick snorted, reaching up to his face with his sleeve, as if to brush away sweat, but Barbara hadn't noticed any perspiration, and did notice that he brushed mostly at his cheeks. "You want to talk about it?" she asked, putting one hand on his shoulder.

Strangely enough, Dick found that he did. In years, he hadn't told anyone other than Selina. Maybe another telling wouldn't hurt too much. If nothing else, it'd be one more person who knew about John and Mary Grayson. "I told you I hadn't seen my parents in a while. I didn't say why..."

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As it turned out, Barbara walked him home, that night. While she still wasn't sure what he'd done back in the kitchen was the best way to handle it, it's clear that the instinctual response there, and before, in the alley, was to try to make things right. She could admire that.

For his part, Dick was still pensive over what had happened. If things worked out, and Dick would have to check back later to make sure they did, he really hadn't done anything other than help out one guy. Obviously he wasn't the only victim, and he'd done nothing to the guy responsible other than cost him some pocket change and bruised a pair of his goons. 'Maybe I could give Batman a heads-up?' A smirk crossed his lips at the thought.

Lost in their own thoughts, neither of them noticed that despite not being in the best of neighborhoods, the other didn't seem particularly worried. Nor did either of them seem to notice that at some point, the backs of their hands had brushed past each other, and were now clasping each other gently.

As they stopped in front of his building, he said, "I'd like to see you again, Barbara."

She smiled. "I'd like that."

After a moment's hesitation, he leaned forward, touching his lips to hers. A gentle, cautious kiss at first, exploring the texture of each other's lips, then of their tongues. Their eyes closed and he felt his arms encircling her waist, one soft hand of hers on his shoulder, the other on the back of his hand. After their lips finally parted, they shared a breathless moment, blue eyes staring into green. A moment later, both of them made their way inside.

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The next morning...

Selina's eyes eventually pushed themselves open. She'd been at least half-awake for ten minutes, but hadn't moved outside of a languorous stretch. Reaching beside her, she found she was the only one in the oversized bed. 'Huh,' she thought, nonplussed, 'I'd have pegged Bruce for a late-riser.' Locating the bathroom, she showered quickly.

Returning, she found that her dress, shoes and other clothes of the night before had been hung in a clear plastic garment bag, and a blouse and slacks in a size almost exactly her own had been laid on the bed. 'That butler has too sharp an eye for my own good,' she thought. It was just as well, she hadn't really wanted to steal that Monet in the hall, anyway. The instant she stepped out of the bedroom, he was there in front of her.

"The Master sends his apologies," he said crisply and properly, "He had to attend to emergency business, and requested I let you sleep. I've prepared a light breakfast for you, though I may of course drive you home now, if you wish."

The unstated implication that he would be driving her home, and wouldn't hear of calling for a taxi, made Selina smile. "Thank you, Pennyworth." In the English tradition, the master of the home, and his guests, all addressed the butler by his surname, although she recalled Bruce calling him 'Alfred'. "I'm in no rush. Breakfast sounds wonderful."

"Certainly, Miss Kyle. This way, please." He led her to a small dining room that had one place setting at the table, with copies of the Gotham Gazette, the New York Times and the Daily Planet folded nearby. In the middle of the table sat a large tray filled with fruit, decoratively arranged. Next to the table were large covered trays of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, waffles, french toast, assorted pastries, english muffins, and dry breads, with bowls of jams, jellies, butter, syrups, and pitchers of milk, coffee, tea and four kinds of juice.

Selina's brow arched. Was Alfred expecting the Gotham Knights to drop by for a snack? She glanced in his direction, then noticed him pretending not to be noticing her noticing him. "Is something amiss?" he asked formally.

'Ahhhh,' Selina thought with amusement, 'He's compensating for Bruce leaving early. Interesting.' She began to spoon eggs onto her plate, and shook her head, "Nothing at all," she said, adding a raisin muffin and filling a cup with tea before returning to the table, adding a bit of fruit and sitting down.

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That same next morning...

Dick's eyes opened and he saw red. Somehow, a lock of her hair had draped itself across his face. He smiled and craned his neck, kissing the pale skin of her shoulder. This elicited a pleasant sigh from her, and she turned a bit, now facing away from him, apparently still asleep. A part of him wanted to wake her, but he decided he'd better not. Selina was probably home by now and-

'Oh shit, Selina!' He felt a momentary panic, which then subsided as rational thought kicked in. Costumes and gear were stowed, the merchandise had all been fenced, neither of them were wanted criminals, (at least not under their real names). And, Dick's flirting aside, obviously they were just friends. 'Well, just isn't the right word, perhaps.' She might be annoyed by the articles of clothing he seemed to recall had been dropped in the living room, but that was hardly cause for panic.

He swung his legs out onto the floor and stood, grabbing the bathrobe from off of his desk chair and wrapping it around him. As he opened the door and moved out into the hallway, he noticed that none of the lights were on. It was light out, but Selina usually kept her windows covered in case any feline costumes or gear was being worn and stored or what have you. A quick check confirmed that she hadn't come home at all. 'Interesting. Maybe she changed her mind about robbing the place, and decided to hide during the day?' It wouldn't have been the first time, although she usually could get what she wanted and get out before any museum staff arrived.

Dick shrugged. He'd look in on things soon enough. In the meantime, he collected the clothes strewn about the floor and furniture in the living room, and the one sock from the kitchen that one of the cats must have carried in, showered, and started making breakfast for two.

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Two hours later...

They shared one more lingering kiss as a limousine pulled in behind the cab he'd called. She climbed into the back seat and the cab drove off. It was at that point that he noticed that the limousine wasn't some oversized Lincoln, but a classic Rolls-Royce, gunmetal grey. A slim man with a mustache in a black uniform and, of all things, white gloves, had opened the back door, and Selina had climbed out. The man gave her a formal bow before getting back into the driver's seat.

Selina glanced at the taxi receding in the distance, then looked at Dick with an amused expression. Dick similarly glanced at the limousine which was now beginning to drive away, then looked back at her. Their smirking looks mirrored each other, until Selina said, "C'mon, Tiger. Let's get inside before we drown in our collective smugness." Dick laughed, and went back in.

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The cats go prowling, but the Bats are on their tails

in Chapter 5