Disclaimer: mrf. Nnnngh. Don't own characters. Grey Goose Vodka, however, owns me. Auuugh. Stop the hurting?

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Partners

Chapter 9

Batman was glaring at the two of them. Catwoman's lips were pursed, but her expression was more considering. She glanced at Batgirl, who was blushing furiously, the lower half of her reddening cheeks visible below the cowl. In a dangerous tone of voice, Catwoman said, "You two..." making a subtle gesture with her claws.

'Ok, blushing Batgirl has got to be the cutest...' Dick was thinking when he recognized Selina sending him the signal for 'run away'. Selina wanted both of them somewhere else, and given that Batman looked seconds away from going nuclear, that seemed a good idea to Dick. "...have somewhere else to be," he said, finishing her sentence and grabbing Batgirl around the waist, leaping and pulling both of them off of the fire escape.

As he'd known (hoped?) she would, she grabbed the grapnel from her belt and fired. The titanium prongs bit into a nearby rooftop, and as they feel, the decel line tightened, turning their momentum from freefall into an arc that began to curve upwards, allowing them to land on the roof of a three story building. She pressed the button to release the prongs and retract the grapple line, taking a deep breath.

It was then that she noticed that he hadn't let go of her waist. She drove her fist into his midsection, eliciting a pained grunt, and pushed him away. "What the hell was that for?" she said, glaring. "You could have killed us." He started to flash that grin of his, but she cut him off before he could respond, "No. Uh-uh. You're not charming your way out of this, Dick. Answer. The question."

He frowned and said, "I don't know what your partner was planning, but mine had that 'I'm seeing two large piles of ground chuck' look in her eyes. She was just deciding which of us to claw to ribbons first."

Barbara glared at him. She'd been watching both Batman and Catwoman when he'd grabbed her. Batman had been surprised by the maneuver, and was already reaching for his grapnel. Catwoman hadn't. She'd actually given a slight nod. She supposed she could respect his loyalty, but that didn't let him off the hook. She held up two fingers on her right hand. "Two times, Dick. Two times you've lied to me. Three, if you count 'odd jobs', but since I wasn't going to tell you about Batgirl, I'll give you a pass on that. You don't get a third. Why?"

Dick smiled thinly. "It's a more complicated question than you think it is. Simplest answer is that she told me to. Was that really the 'why' you wanted to know?"

She chuckled softly, "No, but it's the only one I felt I had a right to ask."

His head tilted slightly. "Well it's probably the only one you had the right to expect an answer to, but go ahead and ask the other."

"Why do you steal?"

"For money." She glared at him. "What?" Dick asked, "It's the truth!"

"I've gone over the jobs you two have pulled," she said. "Based on Batman's records, and on his estimates for what you could get from a fence, if you're splitting the take, you've made a little over two million. Less if you're getting a smaller share. And I'm not counting the Rodin in that."

He smiled sardonically. "Batman's estimates are off by about a third," he said dryly. "I'm not telling you in which direction."

"Fine," she replied, scowling, "so at the minimum, you're a teenage millionaire. I've seen your apartment. You don't exactly live extravagantly. Do you even have a car?"

He snorted. "I used to. Have you ever tried parking in this city?"

"So what's the point of it all, then? You have some number you're going to hit and then quit, assuming we don't get you first? Is it just a game, and the dollar amount is how you keep score? What's the plan, Tiger?"

He pursed his lips. "Ignoring all jokes about cats and curiosity, do you subject the Joker or Two-Face to this?"

"Joker and Two-Face are psychopaths. You're not. You're a kid that had some bad breaks."

Dick scowled, especially at the 'kid' comment. "You know, I think I'd rather go back to that crimefighter/thief dynamic we had going. Can we go back to you trying to arrest me?"

"Stop ducking the fucking question Dick!" she snapped, "She gets off on stealing, that's obvious. I don't think you do. I think you steal because that's what she expects of you."

His face paled, and he was silent for several moments. When he finally answered, his voice was barely above a whisper, "Not only are you way the hell off-base, you've gone pretty far into the realm of none of your goddamned business."

"Maybe so," she said, reaching out to put one hand on his shoulder, "but who else do you have to talk to about it?"

He turned away from her, head hanging forward.

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When Tiger pulled Batgirl off the fire escape, Batman had his grapnel out and was preparing to jump. Thankfully the girl had the situation in hand, because with only the height of a third story building to work with, Batman wouldn't have had time to catch either of them. Noting their trajectory, he was preparing to go after them, when a set of claws lightly pressed against the bat insignia on his chest.

"Let them go," Catwoman said, "they have some things to talk about." He glared at her, and she glared back, "I said talk. I don't think they're planning to elope."

Batman grunted, staring across the rooftops before putting the grapnel back on his belt. "This was easier before they got involved."

Selina's eyebrows rose. "No one said you had to get a sidekick just because I did."

Batman actually laughed. Not exactly a full-on belly laugh, but his rumbling chuckle was unusual enough. "Not them. Bruce and Selina."

"Do I look like Harvey Dent to you? Catwoman and Selina Kyle aren't two different people."

"If you looked like Harvey Dent to me, we wouldn't have this problem.

Selina pursed her lips, "Ok, Funny-Bat is creeping me the hell out. Stop that."

Batman actually smiled. "Bruce Wayne joked with you. Are you saying you don't react to him the same way you do to Batman?" She crossed her arms, frowning. He took that as a yes, and asked, "Why did you steal that statue?"

"I thought I'd put it on the end table in the living room. It'll make quite a conversation piece." That was the end of Batman's smile. "To sell it, jackass. Why do you think?"

"Because you met Bruce Wayne by it?"

"You think..." Selina's eyes bulged in surprise, "You think that had something to do with you? Of all the egotistical...it wasn't even my idea! I was doing to steal the opal."

"It was his idea. And you went along with it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You know how much it's worth?"

"Why did you agree to steal that statue you met me by?"

Selina had long thought herself immune to the Bat-glare, but this wasn't that. Not exactly. It looked just like it, but it wasn't Batman's voice that was asking her. And the Rodin sculpture in the museum wasn't where she met Batman, it was where she met Bruce. "It was..."

He interrupted, "It was Bruce Wayne's money that brought that sculpture to the museum, and you met Bruce Wayne next to it. It was the closest you could get to stealing from Bruce Wayne without actually doing so."

It was kind of disturbing how he referred to Bruce Wayne as if he were another person entirely. "That's not-"

"Picture when he cooked up the scheme. You and the kid are in your Cat-lair preparing-"

"Cat-lair? We were sitting at the kitchen table."

"Fine. You're sitting at the kitchen table. Did he know we'd talked about the sculpture?" Selina blinked. "He knew," Batman continued, "one of you mentioned the name 'Bruce' and/or 'Wayne' exactly how many seconds before you decided to steal it?"

"You know, I used to think this pomposity was just an intimidation technique."

"I didn't hear a denial there."

"I don't hear denials when I say you're a jackass."

"Catwoman stole the statue. And you say Selina Kyle and Catwoman are the same person. Selina Kyle stole that statue from Bruce Wayne. I'd like it back."

"Go to hell."

"Listen. To. Me." he said softly. "This isn't Batman telling you to put the jewels back. Selina..."

The Bat telling her to put the jewels back had never proven all that effective. Selina was finding the Man harder to refuse.

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"I have nightmares," was what he said, eyes focused on a patch of rooftop, mind focused on nothing physical. She didn't speak, waiting silently for him to continue. "I relive their deaths. Every last detail. Every time it happens...I'm twelve again. Weak. Powerless. Hopeless." He shivered, wrapping both arms around his midsection. She placed one gloved hand on his back, rubbing gently.

If he even noticed the gesture, he didn't react. Instead he continued, "I wake up screaming. It's happened ever since they were killed." He chuckled humorlessly, "Made me the most popular kid in Juvie." Dick turned his head and glanced back at her. "That's where wards of the state are housed before they can be placed in a foster home. Can you imagine putting refugees from a war or a natural disaster in Blackgate? But that's what we do to orphans. To kids."

"What about your foster par-"

"Don't!" Dick said angrily, interrupting as he turned to face her. Her hand fell away, "Don't call those people 'parents,' foster or otherwise. I had parents. I know what parents were. My parents loved me. They didn't keep me around because the state paid them to. The best home I was stuck in wanted to medicate me into contentment, but the state health plan wouldn't pay for it, so they gave me back. The next place, he'd pound on the walls and yell at me to shut up. If that didn't work, he'd come pound on me."

Barbara moved forward to take his hand, but he pulled back. "Don't," he said, "I don't need to be pitied. I stopped wanting sympathy years ago. Whatever you think you're trying to save me from, she saved me before you put on a costume. I'm telling you this to make it clear that yes, I owe her more than I could ever repay." He chuckled softly as he added, "I could steal the whole south island and it wouldn't make up for what she helped me get back."

"But that's what I owe. What she expects?" He snorted and said, "You really don't know her, do you? Don't underestimate the 'cat' side of the Catwoman equation. If I announced tomorrow morning that I was setting out on my own, she'd wish me luck, ask me to keep in touch, maybe give me a hug, and warn me that if I try to go after something she's stealing, she'll shred me. And then she'll move on with her life."

"So yes. There's a plan. There's a goal. There's a point at which I plan to stop stealing. In the meantime," he lifted one hand and counted on his fingers, "jewelry boutiques, museums, galleries, and the homes of extremely wealthy people. Every single one of them one hundred percent insured. I steal something, the previous owner gets paid a sum of money, that sum is paid in bits and bytes by all the customers of the insurance company."

He laughed, "To them, I'm not a thief. I'm a risk factor. An economic consideration on an actuarial table. I don't claim to be Robin Hood, but I'm not hurting people either."

"You really believe that?" she asked.

"It's not a belief. It's a statement of fact."

"It's a self-justifying rationalization of you refusing to see past your own ends and avoiding the responsibility of your actions." He glared at her, but she pressed on. "Being robbed hurts, Dick. That the owner of a home you burglarize can easily absorb the financial loss, or has insured himself against it, doesn't change the fear you inflict upon that person. Their home isn't safe, anymore. Maybe the person picks up and leaves town."

"The jewelry store may be insured, but all of a sudden its premiums go up. Maybe it can absorb that, maybe it can't. Maybe it has to lay off a salesman or a clerk. Maybe the company that owns it decides that Gotham's just not safe, and the store closes. Same goes for galleries. Museums get most of their money from charitable donations. Bruce Wayne is the reason the GMA even had the Rodin to display."

He began to grin and she glared, "It's not funny, Dick! Bruce may have written the check to bring the Eternal Idol to the museum, but the museum was counting on the revenue from people paying their fees to see the sculpture. People leave town. Stores leave town. Jobs are lost. Taxes are lost. The city is poorer, because of you! Your stealing huts people. You've just gotten away from them before you have to see it."

"And what would you suggest?" he asked. "Get a cape and cowl? Call myself Batboy? You think what you do makes any difference?" A scowl crossed his face, "I assume that in your checking up on me, the name Tony Zucco appeared?" She frowned, then offered a nod in confirmation. He continued, "You're not the only one who can do some digging. And Bruce Wayne is a lot easier to look up than I am. His parents..."

Dick angrily choked off a sob. Mentally chastising himself for this, he failed to notice that Barbara had looked to the side. "I thought I disliked him before. Bad enough when he was just an arrogant vigilante jackass who couldn't nail Zucco for more than six months. But you know what the difference between him and me was? He had money. His family's servants were they to keep an eye on him while his father's employees managed his billions of dollars. You think he would have grown up to be Batman if he'd had to do it in a foster home?"

"But after all that, what is he? I don't know what he had to put himself through to go from a rich kid to Batman, but I bet it was a hell of a lot. All to, and stop me if I'm wrong her, all to keep what happened to him from happening to anyone else. Do I have that part right?" After a moment, Barbara nodded slowly. "Newsflash. It happened to me. Exact. Same. Fucking. Thing." Dick shook his head, "He gets Zucco, turns him over to the cops, and six months later, that's it. Why?"

"Because the DA was on the take," a gravelly voice said from behind him. Dick jumped a foot in the air and he reached for the whip he was no longer carrying. Batman didn't move an inch. "He was on Franco Bertinelli's payroll, and Zucco worked for Bertinelli."

Dick was glaring at Batman with an intensity that rivaled his best Bat-glare. "Where can I find him? The DA."

"In Blackgate."

"Your work?"

Batman nodded, "Gotham PD turned over evidence of his corruption to the Department of Justice."

"Does it make it go away? Doing what you do?"

"No." Dick hadn't specified what 'it' was, but Batman...Bruce...Bruce knew.

"Then...why?"

After a pause, Bruce answered, "It's not about making it go away. Nothing will ever do that. Nothing ever could, and if it did, I don't think I'd want that. It's about taking it, using that pain, and channeling it into something that honors their memory." He spoke in a voice free of Bat-gravel. Bruce's voice. "I can say I'm sorry that I didn't get Zucco. I am, but-"

"-But it doesn't help," Dick said. "Not even a little."

Bruce nodded. "It never did."

Barbara spoke up, saying, "Maybe it didn't, but that doesn't mean you have to shut out the people who say it." Both men glanced at her.

Dick frowned and said, "I thought your father..."

"Not exactly. It's kind of a long story."

Dick glanced around. "Where's Catwoman."

"Getting the statue," Bruce answered. Dick blinked in surprise. "She's bringing it here. Either that or she's running, and heading for her Miami fence." He watched Dick's reaction carefully.

Dick's expression smoothed to bland neutrality. "I'm not confirming or denying your suspicions."

Batman grunted. "She'll bring it."

"Not quite, handsome," she said, climbing up onto the roof. "I'm willing, but it's only half mine to give." She tucked the whip she'd retrieved from their apartment against her waist.

"It's none of yours to give," Barbara said. Bruce shook his head at her in a gesture of negation.

"Our outlooks differ," Selina said dismissively. She explained, "I've had it placed somewhere you can find it, but as we stole it together, we're going to relinquish it together or not at all. If he says no, you two can do what you want, although I'll note you don't have any proof." Smiling, she added, "And it goes without saying that we won't be coming quietly."

Dick chuckled. Barbara glared. Batman was already focused on Dick. He said, "I don't know what sort of belief you have in an afterlife, if any. I don't know if you believe your parents are watching you or not. But ask yourself, if they were, what would they see? What are you doing to honor their memory, Dick?"

Glaring hotly, Dick seethed. "Real nice, Bruce. Zero to ruthless manipulation in two-point-four seconds."

"Perhaps. Am I wrong?"

Dick stared at the rooftop. A tear dribbled out of the eyehole of his mask, but he refused to look away. If Selina's guess had even been close, this would have put him over. This would have been the big score that would have allowed him to try to put his life back together. He stared at their faces. Bruce's was expressionless. Not for the first time, Dick wondered what Selina saw there.

Barbara's was almost pleading. Her words about the people he hurt echoed through his mind. He wondered if this was some sort of redemption thing for her. Ten criminals shown to the path of righteousness and you get a free ice cream bar at the JLA cafeteria? Was she just doing her heroic duty, or was she hoping for her own sake as much as his.

Selina's was...a smile. Not a mocking smile, and not that teasing grin she gave Batman. It was a smile he'd seen when after thirty minutes of combing and tests of four different products he'd bought at the drug store, he'd asked her how his hair looked. He'd seen it when he'd agonized over the costume, unable to decide between the domino mask and the cowl with cat-ears. It was the faintly amused smile that said, 'I can't believe you're putting this much effort into a decision this unimportant.'

"Tell them," he said. And she did.

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Has Dick given up a life of crime?

And for that matter, has Selina?

If not, where does that leave the four of them

in Chapter 10