I was beginning to enjoy my routine on Wayne Tech days. Monday through Thursday, I would get up at 5am and prepare a quick breakfast, making an extra serving for dad and leaving it in the microwave, and be out the door by 6- right around the time my dad would be rolling out of bed craving his first cigarette. I'd head directly to the gym, where I worked through a carefully curated exercise plan created by Alfred (the man had some serious military training in his youth, you could tell from his workouts). In the gym locker room, I'd shower and change into my nicer office clothes, then drink a packed protein shake as I walked to work at Wayne Tech. I'd be in my office by 8:30 or 9 most days, switching on my 90s rock and firing up the computer for a long day. For the next 8-10 hours, I'd be hunched over my computer with my blue light glasses on, scouring databases and collecting records and making answers out of endless information.

We were hot on Waylon Jones' trail. Black Mask would get a visit from us soon. Two-Face's Men were cornered. But I still hadn't learned what I wanted to about the League of Shadows. I still didn't know who Talia was.

Loving my new job at Wayne Tech made it even more difficult to go back to work at the library on the weekends. Not only did it suck to have to work seven days a week, but I would sit at the front desk tapping my fingers anxiously, knowing how much I could be accomplishing if I were at my other desk. My coworkers seemed to sense it; they seemed to be asking more questions, knowing I might up and quit any day now. While I hated the idea of leaving them hanging… yeah. I could quit any day now.

Which is why, on this particular day, I was standing in front of a room full of part time library employees, varying in age and appearance, making a presentation on the Dewey Decimal System. I wasn't kidding when I told dad people didn't know how it worked anymore.

"Why can't we just look up on the computer where the books go?" a young man (nah, let's call him a boy) with oily hair asked from the back.

"You can," I answered honestly, "but if they ever decide to reorganize the stacks or if the computers go down, you can easily tell where a book goes based on the number on its binding. That's why we have the system. Besides, it's a lot easier and faster to learn the language of the Dewey Decimal System than to look up each individual book in the system and figure out where to reshelve it." For that answer, I got a roll of the eyes and he leaned back in his seat, doing his best to put his apathy on display.

I held my presentation in the common area of the library, just inside the main doors and past the front desk. I was encouraged to have it here so that even the people that needed to man the desks would be able to pay attention, and because the upper management of the Gotham Libraries thought it might be an interesting topic for a public lecture. The only members of the public I saw were a few homeless people with nowhere better to go and two young sisters with Girl Scout hats on, clearly looking for a badge (their mom was outside, talking loudly on her cell phone and smoking).

Towards the end of the presentation, just as I was explaining why certain letters prefixed the decimals on certain books, I looked towards the front desk to see a familiar, coaxing face. Dick, in his Bludhaven police uniform, was leaning casually against the library counter with two coffee cups in his hands. He was sweet talking Phyllis, who abashedly blushed and quietly giggled behind the counter. As if he could feel my eyes fall on him, he turned to smile at me and gave a quick, flirtatious wink. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling and turned back to my class.

The session ended with practical application. A rolling shelf full of books that needed to be shelved stood to my side. "No using computers, no using your phones. Just grab a book and, by looking only at the spine of the book, return it to its rightful place." As I finished my instructions, the two little girls hurried to the front of the room and each grabbed four books from the shelf. The library employees groggily shuffled to the cart and grabbed a book each, looking far more aimless than the two children had. Meanwhile, I made my way to the front counter.

"Is there something I can do for you?" I asked, forcing exasperation in my tone. But Dick just chuckled and smiled widely at me.

"That, my dear, is a very dangerous question," he smiled. I gave a fake smile and he outstretched a cup of coffee to me. I took it but hesitated to drink.

"Why are you here?" I asked more plainly. He took a sip and shrugged innocently at me.

"What, a guy can't come to his favorite Gotham public library branch at 9 am on a Saturday to watch a presentation about the Dewey Decimal System?" he smiled. I clenched my jaw in efforts to keep as neutral an expression as possible. He just kept smiling at me in that baiting, goading way from behind his coffee cup. I caught sight of Phyllis in my periphery, leaning over the counter and watching us interact like she was watching a soap opera. Seeing me stare at her, she just raised her eyebrows at me as if to say, 'are you really not gonna kiss him?' I looked back to Dick and put my hand on his arm.

"Let's talk out here," I insisted. Dick allowed me to lead him towards the front doors of the library, though not without making a noise of eager excitement. The cool early March air was a bit chilly for comfort, but I preferred it to having Phyllis meddle in my business and to Dick putting on a show in front of all the people I worked with.

"Phyllis is sweet. You should give her my number," Dick smiled to himself as he drank his coffee.

"She is sweet, don't be an ass," I defended her. He lowered his coffee cup and raised his eyebrows at me, calling my bluff. "She's nosy and a gossip, but sweet," I clarified with a shrug. He smiled back at me, one hand resting on his police belt and the other holding his Ernesto's coffee cup.

"Where ya been?" he asked. The question almost surprised me; no quip, no sass. Just straightforward and plain. I shifted my weight, shrugging my shoulder blades together as if to blame my discomfort on the cold.

"Working a lot," I answered obliquely. I sipped my coffee, thankful for the warmth it provided. It wasn't hazelnut this time; it had a strong dose of vanilla in it.

"Yeah… three jobs will keep you busy," he nodded as if lecturing me. I was about to correct him: I only had two jobs, the library and Wayne Tech. But then I remembered that he knew about my third job, the job that kept me up all night and required Kevlar. I slammed my lips shut and nodded. "You getting the answers you need?" he asked. I nodded somberly again.

"Most of them," I answered honestly. The only secret that Bruce seemed to actively keep from me was about the League of Shadows; there was something about this Talia woman that he didn't want me knowing. But I wasn't about to ask Dick. If I had patience, Bruce would come to trust me. I just needed to wait. "Jason seems like a good kid," I said with a plain smile, hoping it would persuade him that Bruce was open with me. Dick raised his eyebrows quickly, then looked back down at his coffee cup seriously.

"Yeah," he almost chuckled out, "yeah, he is. Better than he knows." Dick stared down at the lid of his coffee cup with a modest, distracted smile for a long moment before looking up at the sky above my shoulder. I resisted the temptation to inquire further. "So, is that it then?"

"Is what it?" I asked.

"The other night," he said with a sideways nod of his head. "When you said we couldn't…" he trailed off, but I knew what he meant. In the Batcave, I had told him that we couldn't turn into anything. We couldn't date, couldn't flirt, couldn't work together… we really shouldn't even be interacting on a regular basis. Dick had hung up his mantel as Robin, moved on to Bludhaven. I was his replacement, not his friend. "You're really gonna let him tell you what to do?"

"Yes, I am," I quietly retorted, avoiding drawing attention from passing pedestrians. "As much as I'd love to say we're partners, he's my boss in all this. And I want him to be my boss. He's training me. Without him, none of this would be possible. I don't want to risk this on… this," I vaguely motioned to the space between the two of us. "I want to do what he asks. And I don't expect you to understand that." His eyes stayed locked on mine, studying me, assessing if I meant what I said or if I was just making excuses for myself. He turned away, looking over my shoulder at the traffic beyond me.

"I know you think you're doing this the right way," he said with a nod, "but a day's gonna come when you'll regret following him blindly." I wanted to argue, but his eyes- those ice blue, crystal clear, heart stopping blue eyes- met mine again and I felt my throat tighten. In a serious, somber tone that I had rarely before heard, he said, "you are his partner. From the moment you signed on, you're his partner. Not his project. Don't make the mistakes I did. You're the same as him." His eyes stayed fixed on mine.

He was standing so close to me, his head bowed close to mine in a serious low tone. I could kiss him. I wanted to. I became instantly aware of the heat of my breath and my heavy pulse and the feeling in my stomach that urged me onwards.

I tightened and pressed my lips together as if giving them a command to stop. As if he'd heard my thoughts and knew I had to tell myself to pull it together, he smiled out of one side of his mouth. He stepped backwards to throw his coffee cup away. The moment he pulled away, I felt myself regain control of my senses.

"Mistakes?" I asked, reflecting on what he'd said. When his eyes returned to mine, he tightened his lips in a disappointed grimace.

"All stories I could have shared… had you ever shown up for drinks," he shrugged. My gaze and shoulders fell, feeling like I had missed out on learning so much. But I knew I couldn't trust him; or rather, maybe I just couldn't trust myself with him. He began to walk away, and my eyes followed as he passed me. He stopped and turned back to me once more. His lips parted in a smile and I knew he was about to say something snarky, some quip. But he stopped short; had he seen something in my face? His smile softened and his eyes stared into mine. "Call me, Barb," he said, "when you figure it all out. Call me." And he left. I stood on the sidewalk and watched him climb into his BPD police cruiser. He pulled away from the curb without so much as a second glance at me, and I watched him go, squashing every eager thought that wanted to chase after him.

Why should it matter if we dated, it's not like we

Stop.

But why should Bruce care? We don't even work together, it wouldn't even matter

Stop.

This is stupid and so childish and I'm not a child and Bruce can't control me

STOP.

I forced myself back into the library, where Phyllis was staring at me with intrigue over the counter.

"Did you dump him? Sweetie, he's not gonna keep coming back if you give him the cold shoulder. You need to lock that down," she advised me. I inhaled deeply, held the breath in my lungs, then let it out through my nose as I trudged past her and watched the struggling librarians figure out the Dewey Decimal System.

Standing on the edge of the roof, I could watch the dying neon lights illuminating the storefront: BEER, WINE, CIGS. Not exactly the catchiest name for a Gotham bodega, but it got the point across and was clear enough to inquiring customers. The shop owners were from Colombia and, though most spoke a level of English, only one member of the family had been fully naturalized. The money they were making was being sent home to support family there, and the eight family members that worked the shop (including a mother, father, three children, two uncles, and one grandmother) all lived in a two bedroom apartment in Old Gotham. They were getting by on very little, which explains why they resorted to using the services of a sketchy loan officer: Jack White (aka, The Joker).

I had done my research. And I would be damned if Two-Face robbed this family to get back at Joker for going sour on a deal. It's Joker: criminals should expect him to flip on them. It's Harvey's own damn fault for trusting him in the first place.

A swooshing of capes alerted me to Bruce's arrival on the rooftop behind me. He stepped up alongside me and looked down at the shop with me.

"You're sure it's tonight?" he asked.

"As sure as I can be," I replied. "The hits have been seemingly random, but he's only human and humans leave patterns. The last hit he made was nine days ago, and it was at a bodega on the Northeast side of town. He's going to hit one in a different neighborhood, like this one, and judging by the timeliness of the hits it'll happen tonight."

"So, we're not sure," Batman grumbled, turning to look at me. I faced him with a forced shrug.

"There's only three bodegas left. So it's a gamble- but the odds are in our favor."

"Waiting here means we're leaving this city vulnerable. If we're here, we can't be vigilant for other threats," he said, almost scolding me.

"Batman, it's happening tonight. The patterns, the strategy… my gut tells me it'll happen tonight," I said with a shake of my head. He scanned me dubiously, wondering how much faith he had in me.

"I'll stay within a four-mile radius," he said, turning and removing his grapnel gun from his belt. "If you see anything, call. We'll stop them together."

"Don't stray far," I cautioned him as he shot his gun and zipped away. I knew he had his doubts, but I felt certain it would happen tonight. And moreover, this is what I was here for anyways, right? To be his backup, his other set of eyes, his second brain? I could stay vigilant here, and he could pummel bad guys elsewhere.

I monitored the store carefully, listening as the shop owner watched a sports channel in Spanish and drunken patrons purchased bottles that they would wrap in brown paper and leave the store swigging. It was a quiet night for the shop, with only the typical sounds of traffic as the night dragged on.

Around 1:30 am, a banged-up van swerved and stopped abruptly on the curb. Four men, pulling masks down over their faces, hurried into the shop, each clutching a gun in his hand.

"Batman," I said into our comm device, "they're here. It's time to move." But he didn't answer me. "Batman," I said again. Still no response.

"Miss Gordon, I believe he's engaged in combat at the moment- his biometric readings are elevated as such," Alfred answered me through the comm device. My eyes darted from the shop to the van and back again; I didn't have time to wait. Not only would Two-Face's men get away, but the shop owner was in danger and time was running short. It was time for action. I shot my grapnel gun to the adjacent roof and swung down towards the van, landing silently on the balls of my feet.

Step one: I needed to ensure the getaway car couldn't get away. I could hear the driver stammering nervously to himself in the driver's seat. Disable the driver, disable the van. I crept up beside the driver side door, hearing some light rock float out of the van. Keeping my weight low, I grabbed the handle of the door and softly began to pull it- it was unlocked. I smiled to myself and yanked it open the rest of the way. Just as he was about to scream, I grabbed around his shoulders and put him into a sleeper hold, silencing him as I dragged him from his seat. Once he was passed out on the ground, I crept forward around the van and looked into the store. One man was forcing the shop owner against the front counter, a gun pushed against his chin. One was perusing the aisles, grabbing bottles that interested him. One was watching the door sleepily, apathetically. The fourth was opening the cash register, stuffing wadded bills into a bag.

Step two: save the hostage. I needed to focus energies on getting him to safety. I grabbed three Batarangs from my belt. Taking a moment to aim, I threw all three at once, shattering all the main windows and the door of the bodega. The gunmen all ducked and shouted in shock, which gave me the perfect opportunity to rush into the store. I rolled over the broken glass and landed low behind a shelf of wine bottles before any of them could overcome their shock to look for me. I crept towards the back of the store, working my way around the shelf to creep up on the man that had been browsing the shelves.

"The hell, man, this is a grab and run!" one of the men yelled.

"It wasn't me! I didn't shoot em out!" the man watching the door yelled back as I snuck up behind the man in the aisle. I stood and kicked in his knees while one arm wrapped around his neck and the other hand came forward around his mouth, silencing groans of pain. I held him low against the ground until he stopped struggling, then let his unconscious body rest on the floor.

"Finish up, fast," one of the other men insisted. "We gotta move."

"Yeah, I'm on it," the man by the cashier said. He was opening something under the counter, and the man with the hostage was facing the counter; that meant neither could directly see the man guarding the door. Upon this realization, I hurried forward and grabbed him the same way I'd grabbed the last, choking him out. This left just two, and the man behind the counter was still ducking low, looking for something. While I had the chance, I threw my weight over the shoulders of the man holding the hostage against the counter. I pulled his head back and wedged it into my armpit, depriving him of air as I pulled him back away from the hostage. I cocked my head to the side, and the hostage hurried off towards the back of the store as the gunman lessened his struggle.

"Dave, what're you doin, you let him go…" the last man complained as he stood and looked over the counter at me. I dropped Dave's body and kicked my legs over the counter in a lunge at him as he dropped the bag and exclaimed, "Batman!"

I thrust my knees against his chest and he slammed into the wall behind him, sliding to the floor in a stunned puddle. I stood over him with a smile as he regained some of his senses and looked up at me, confused and dazed. "Not quite," I answered, then axe-kicked him. The men were all down, and the shop owner would be safe. I could hear him in the backroom, speaking loudly into a telephone; the police, hopefully. I walked back out of the shop and launched myself back onto the rooftop across from the bodega, rolling forward and hurrying a few rooftops away. I waited until I could hear the sirens and see the blue and red lights reflected on the light brick building. Mission accomplished.

"Batman, come in," I eventually called into my comm device. I'd wondered, while I fought, if this was his way of testing me. But if it was, why wouldn't he come and tell me how I did? "Batman, do you read me?" Still nothing. "Alfred, what's going on?"

"Miss Gordon… I'm not sure. I have his location, though, if you'd like it…"

"Where is he?" I asked, starting to get nervous. Even Alfred wasn't in on it?

"He's on Penitence Bridge just off of Miagani Island. I don't see any particular reason for him to be there, but he's silenced his microphone; I can't hear what's going on," he said. Miagani Island? That was ten miles away, at least. Before he had finished speaking, I was jumping rooftops and heading towards my motorcycle. It would take me a few minutes to get there, even at my hardest sprint. I dropped down into the alley, clamoring between fire escapes to cushion my landing, and climbed onto my bike as fast as I could.

"Connect me to Nightwing," I said urgently into my comm.

"Miss?" Alfred questioned me.

"Batman's not answering and I don't know enough to help him; I need his help," I tried to clarify.

"Miss… Batman would not want Nightwing's help…"

"Well I want him to answer me and I'm not getting that either. Connect me," I demanded as I started up the bike. It rumbled to life and I zipped out of the alley, scaring a drunk man who staggered down the sidewalk as my motorcycle jetted towards Miagani Island.

"Hey Alf, how's it hangin?" Dick answered, sounding a bit out of breath. I could hear his smile.

"Nightwing, Batman's not responding to his comm. Is he with you?" I asked, trying to hide my anxieties.

"He hasn't spoken to me all week. What's your location?"

"His last was on Penitence Bridge, off Miagani," I said, darting around traffic and between cars.

"Alright, I gotta handle something real quick. Meet you there," he said.

"Any update on his location?" I asked Alfred.

"None yet, Batgirl," he answered. As I arrived in Drescher, I whipped my bike into an alley, ditching it behind a dumpster. I shot my grapnel gun to the roof and hurried to the edge of the island, looking out over the bridge. I couldn't see anything conspicuous; just typical traffic and bad drivers. I hit my investigative mode goggles on to see if I could find his bio-readings amidst the darkness, but I didn't see anything.

"Alfred, he's not here," I said into my comm device. "Do you have anything?"

"No Miss… but…"

"But what?" I egged him on as he stammered. A crunch of gravel behind me drew my attention. Nightwing, in his stunning black and blue uniform, appeared on the roof behind me.

"You find him?" he asked, a touch of concern evident in his tone.

"No," I answered, looking with him back over the bridge. "He's not here… maybe he disabled his tracker, or it froze… they're waterproof trackers, maybe he's in the river…"

"Look, he's fine. This isn't the first time something like this has happened," Dick waved his hands in front of me, trying to keep me calm.

"This isn't… he could be at the bottom of the river, how do you know he's fine?" I asked indignantly. Bruce wouldn't have just abandoned me to deal with Two-Face's men, something must have happened.

"He's done this to me before, Batgirl, many times. You need to trust me. He'll resurface soon," he insisted.

"When has he done this before?" I demanded.

"Remember how I said I'd tell you everything you wanted to know if you…"

"When, Nightwing?" I asked, working hard to not use his name.

"Last time League of Shadows showed up," he conceded. Things were beginning to make sense, though I still felt like I didn't know anything. Why would he disappear for the League? Who was Talia to him? Why didn't he want us following him? Why would he just go dark with no warning? "I'm sure he's okay," Dick tried to comfort me. He must've seen the look of frustration on my face. He reached out a hand and placed it on my arm. "You can trust me. He's alright." I wanted to be angry, and to have someone to take that anger out on. But I did trust Dick, and I did envy the answers he might have given me.

"Why did you come?" I asked. "If you knew what this was, why he wasn't here. Why did you come?" He smiled out at the bridge, then returned his gaze to me.

"You needed me to," he smiled. I wanted to argue, but I bit my tongue. I looked out at the bridge and back again at him.

"What were you taking care of?" I asked. He cinched his brows together in confusion. "You said you need to take care of something before meeting me here. You did it fast." As I spoke, he seemed to remember and catch himself.

"Uh… yeah," he stammered out quickly, "nothing. Just… babysitting."

"Babysitting?"

"You know, picking up kids from daycare, tucking them in... that wasn't in your job description?" he cocked his head at me, producing a quiet laugh from me. "Why were you two separated anyways? Isn't he in babysitting mode with you still?"

"Two-Face's men hit a bodega on the other side of town… I was putting a stop to it," I explained.

"Everything go okay?" he asked.

"Of course," I answered casually. He smiled at me proudly.

"Well… if the Bat's away, I think you ought to get work done regardless. I could use some help in Bludhaven tonight, if you wanna join?" he offered. I shook my head and looked once more out at the bridge.

"Thanks, but… if I'm flying solo, it should be here in Gotham," I answered. He smiled widely at me and nodded.

"Yeah, figures," he said as he began to turn away. But he stopped a moment, his body perpendicular to mine, smiling over his shoulder at me. "You're doing great, Batgirl," he said. "He'll be proud." I tried to stifle a smile back at him, and nodded.

Dick leapt off the South side of the roof, heading towards Bludhaven. I leapt off the North side, looking for any traces of Bruce while patrolling the streets. I stopped a bar fight from taking place by mildly kicking the two drunken brawlers to the ground. I stopped a mugging down an alley by dropping down onto the shoulders of the attacker, flattening him. I carried the body of an overdosing homeless girl to a clinic, leaving her at the doorstep and knocking before flying away. It felt good to be a part of making Gotham's lives better.

It was almost 3:30 am when I crouched low on a rooftop, looking into the darkness, and I saw a brawl breaking out between four men near the Oblivion Bar. I wondered briefly if it had anything to do with Dick and the trail he had on Riddler, but he was nowhere in sight. Three men, all off-duty Bludhaven cops, were throwing punches and bully sticks at a fourth man who seemed to level their attacks easily. The fourth man wore dark jeans and a red hooded sweatshirt that hung low over his brow so I couldn't discern his appearance. He was handling himself well, but I wasn't about to leave him to fend for himself. All four of them could be knocked out, problem solved. I leapt off the roof and allowed my cape to carry me on the breeze towards the bar. I kicked my feet forward and was about to take out the man in the red sweatshirt, but he ducked at the last moment, as if he knew he was in danger. Instead of knocking him out, my kick landed at knee level of one of the cops that had been rushing him and knocked him to the ground in a scream of pain.

Well… not the one I'd intended, but one down all the same. I spun on the ball of my foot as one of the cops was about to yell out 'Batman!' and grabbed the bully stick in his hand, pulling him closer to me and elbowing him in the nose. In my periphery, I could see the man in the sweatshirt roundhouse kicking the other cop against a dumpster. I slammed my cop victim down on the ground and managed to diagonally kick up at the hooded man's face to keep him from pulverizing the cop. He somehow anticipated the kick, though, and managed to lean away just in time to miss it.

This guy had training. Good training.

I threw a few punches at him, knowing something would land soon and I could level him by focusing on sweeping his legs, but he blocked each of my punches in turn. The hood he wore bounced in place as he bobbed and I tried to glean a look at his face, but he kept his blocks tight and chin low.

Entirely unexpectedly, he grabbed one of my wrists as I extended my arm to punch and pulled me forwards. His arms wrapped around my torso and he held my wrists in an arm block. As I felt my arms lock in front of my chest, I was struck by the memory of Dick pulling this exact move on me in a training session. I felt stupid for repeating the mistake, but I also questioned myself for a moment: why did this stranger feel so much like Dick? It felt too familiar.

As the cop he'd been fighting tried to scramble away, I leaned back against the man and kicked my knees up against the cop's chest. I launched off him, knocking the cop to the ground in a heavy thud, and propelled the man in the sweatshirt against the ground behind me as I flipped behind him. I landed softly on my toes in a low lunge, just as my opponent scrambled up to his feet and ensured his hood was still in place. His fist was clenched tight, but I realized this time that it held something. I rushed at him, intending to wrap my legs around him in the move Dick had taught me and force him to the ground, but he threw what was in his hand at the ground. Light and smoke surrounded me. It was eerily familiar to the smoke bombs Batman used.

I switched into my Detective Mode as quickly as possible, searching the haze for him. I couldn't find him. It was like he'd evaporated. I tried peaking around the corner of the bar, ensuring he wasn't hiding just out of sight. He wasn't. He'd disappeared. I hurried back to the alley as the smoke dissipated to see the three cops still motionless on the ground. I searched the concrete for some kind of firework casing, something that might lead me to where this perp had gotten his smoke bomb. But I couldn't find anything.

Batman's didn't leave casings either; his smoke bomb casings were water soluble after penetration, so as the smoke released it dissolved and left no trace. I wondered if Batman had somehow dropped a smoke bomb somewhere and this perp had picked it up. Or if this perp had maybe taken them off Batman somehow.

A terrifying image struck me of Bruce stripped of his Batman uniform, bleeding out and vulnerable, while some mysterious thief made off with his gadgetry, tools, and suit.

I scanned the alley one last time, hoping to find a trace of Batman or the perp.

This guy could be a problem.