"A long time ago, before the rise of the Joker, Red Hood was at large for several crimes. The ACE Chemicals Heist, digital robbery of $300,000, and millions in counterfeiting, among several other raps. Before Commissioner Loeb's death, I was operating under the theory that Red Hood might actually be a series of copycats all wearing the same outfit or a group operating under the guises of a single man. After the Christmas eve incident with Joker, Red Hood's trail went cold. We archived the file. But this encounter last night…" Bruce trailed off, watching the monitors replaying the video in slow motion as he sipped the cup of coffee Alfred had brought him.

"You think it's the same guy?" I asked. Bruce hesitated a long moment.

"No," he said reluctantly, like he was still considering the question even after he answered it, "but I think there's a connection. We just need to find out what." The video continued until I'd turned to see the hooded man on the ground after I'd leveled him. "There," he said, pausing the video. He'd stopped on a frame of the man with the sweatshirt, checking to ensure the hood was still raised and covering his face. "Did you get a look at his features? Race, hair color, anything?"

"No," I answered. "He did a really good job of keeping his face covered. And it was dark. There's nothing more I can tell you than what you can discern on your own from this video." Bruce nodded.

"Male assailant. Medium build. Probably around six feet tall. Significant training in Muay Thai, Krav Maga, and Taekwondo. Confident and capable… until you almost showed his face," he noted under his breath. I considered the points he was making. These were all forms of combat that Bruce had trained me in, the same ones he had trained Dick in. I remembered the way that the man had grabbed me and pulled me into an arm lock, one that Dick had used against me in training as well. And the man had used Wayne Enterprises weaponry. It didn't feel right, but… what if this man was Dick? They were fighting outside of a bar that Dick was patrolling… it made logical sense to assume it was him…

"Master Bruce, Jason needs to leave for his first appointment in ten minutes. Would you still like me to take him?" Alfred asked. Bruce blinked away from the screen and towards Alfred.

"No, Alfred," he said, trying to put his Bat-self away and awaken his Bruce side. "I'll take him myself, thank you." He turned to me briefly. "You've been awake and working since 5am yesterday. You should rest."

"I'll be fine," I answered.

"Rest," he insisted as he turned from the monitors and headed out of the cave. But I stared at the monitors, fast forwarding through the video until the man threw down his smoke bomb and disappeared. I watched the video of myself searching for him through the alley and down the street to find nothing. I rewound again to the last shot I had of him before he threw the bomb, his tall and serious figure silhouetted by darkness.

Is that you, Dick?

On my way home, I couldn't help but sate my curiosity. The Oblivion Bar was still closed, it being only 9am. But I didn't want to check inside the bar; I wanted to check the alley. The bodies of the off-duty cops were gone; I supposed they'd come to and gotten themselves either home or to a hospital. Looking at the ground, I could see the dirt dragged in patterns showing our fight. Taking one last peek around the sidewalk to ensure no one was watching, I stepped into the alley and took the position I had been in just before the man had thrown his smoke bomb. Facing where the man had been only hours before, I could still feel the adrenaline of the fight that had surged through me.

I remembered when he had locked me in his grasp, trying to disable me. It was a move that Dick had pulled on me before, one that I had taken too much pleasure in. I'd secretly savored the feeling of his hot breath against my neck, the feeling of the hands on my wrists as he locked me in his embrace. I remembered the first time he'd done it.

"Give up yet?" he'd flirtatiously asked, and I got chills from the top of my scalp down my spine as I could feel him smiling just behind my ear.

"You wish," I'd replied, sweeping his ankle out from under him and rocking my weight back into him.

It was his move, and it's no surprise I escaped the lock since I used a different method of escape than the move I'd used in training. But I didn't get the same feeling I'd had when Dick grabbed me when this man did. His grip wasn't the same. The way he held me tight to him wasn't the same. I couldn't explain how or why, but I felt in my core that this man wasn't Dick.

But then, why were they so similar?

I examined the area where he had dropped his smoke bomb, still finding no remnants of the casing. Then I looked over the area he'd been standing when he dropped it. I could see a smudge in the dirt where he must have pushed himself away at high speed, but I couldn't see any signs of footfalls escaping the alley. So he ran away, but he didn't run out of the alley…

He went up.

My gaze turned to the dumpster, where I could see an edge of the lid was bent down from the force of someone jumping on it. Diagonally across from there, I saw a faded smudge of dirt from where a sneaker had scraped against the wall. From there on, there was a fire escape the man could have grabbed onto. He had parkoured out of the alley; but he must have frozen on the fire escape, otherwise I would have heard him in the clanging noise of metal.

The Red Hood had crouched there and watched me as I searched for him, examined the smoke bomb he'd dropped, and left the injured bodies in his wake. He'd watched me leave.

Maybe those cops didn't make it back to safety, after all.

I was going on hour 30 with no sleep, but I couldn't tear myself away from this work now. I was the one who had failed to look up after that fight with Red Hood; because of me, those cops were still in danger after I left. I needed to know if my negligence had gotten them killed, or worse. And selfishly, I needed to know if I could trust my gut- if Dick was involved or not.

So, after calling in to the library and letting them know I needed a personal day, I arrived at the Bludhaven central precinct with a brown paper bag in my hand. I walked in the front doors and approached the desk sergeant manning what was essentially reception at the police department.

"Hi, um… I'm looking for an officer? Richard Grayson?" I asked. The sergeant looked sleepily at me across his desk.

"What is this pertaining to?"

"He forgot his lunch… he's my boyfriend," I offered my made up an excuse. I wasn't even sure if Dick was working today, but I didn't want to ask Bruce anything until I understood what was going on. Maybe Dick wanted to help Gotham again and was sneaking around in civilian clothes, or maybe Dick had messed up in a big way and dropped equipment somewhere and he was trying to fix it on his own. The cop pursed his lips and his eyes scanned down my torso, taking in the outfit of jeans and a V-neck sweater under a fluffy green coat that I had hastily thrown on just before coming to Bludhaven. He smiled at me lightly with tightened lips.

"Yeah. Okay," the officer said as he picked up a phone. "He's a beat cop, right?" I nodded in the affirmative, and the officer dialed a number quickly. "Yeah, Sergeant, I got someone up front here to see Grayson. Says she's his girlfriend, and he forgot to pack his lunch today." He waited a long moment, then something the Sergeant had said in return made him giggle to himself. "Yeah, you got it." He hung up the phone and looked at me with a grin of delight. "He should be up in a minute."

"Thank you," I said politely, considering the fact that the cops were likely giving Dick hell. I turned away and smiled to myself at that idea. I could understand why he terrorized me at work so much; it was fun to swoop in and throw a wrench in his morning.

"Babe!" he called from behind me when he arrived in the lobby of the precinct. The few derelicts and bail posters that cluttered the lobby with me all chaffed at his energy and excitement as he loudly entered the lobby, and I did my best to keep my tight smile from turning into a loud laugh. "You're so sweet, you brought me lunch?" he sweetly said as he approached, his arms outstretched. The realization struck me that I'd given him an inch and he was about to take the whole mile. He put one arm on the forearm holding the paper bag and the other around my waist, and he started in with his lips puckered to give me a kiss. All I could do was turn my face in time to let his kiss land on my cheek clumsily, instead of my lips. He pulled back and looked me up and down with a satisfied smile. "You look tired, honey… did I keep you up too late last night?" he sweetly said, and I could feel my cheeks reddening as it became even harder to keep from laughing.

"Can we talk for just a sec?" I asked in a meek voice. He gestured towards the front doors of the precinct, then turned back to the desk sergeant with a nod of his cap.

"I'll be back in just a sec, Sarge," he said in his most charming tone. We stepped out the front doors and I pulled him into a shadowed corner behind a pillar. "Didn't know we had made it official…"

"You… ass," I laughed out at him as I smacked his arm.

"Just playing the cards you dealt me, Barb," he smiled. We stood close in our corner, avoiding the gaze of anyone on the streets and the aim of the security cameras. "Bruce make it home?" he asked more seriously.

"Around 5," I answered. He took off his BPD hat, looking up at me through his dangling black bangs.

"Was I right?" he asked, though he didn't look like he wanted the satisfaction of me saying he was; he almost looked like he wished he weren't.

"Yeah," I answered. He shook his head and looked off to the side for a moment before returning his gaze to me.

"Glad to hear it… so why are you here? It looks like you've been up all night," he noted.

"Thanks," I answered sarcastically, "I have been. I ran into someone late last night."

"Who?"

I didn't answer just yet. In my heart I felt sure that this man was not him, but I was here because I suspected him. The evidence all pointed to him.

"What did you do last night, after we split up?" I asked quietly. He shrugged.

"Went back to Bludhaven… ordered a pizza… watched some Netflix," he answered. It was Dick's way of saying, "nothing of note." I looked down at my hands. "Barb, come on, what's this about?" I turned to the side, not wanting to let myself look at him, as I let out a tense sigh.

"I ran into someone last night that… I thought it was you," I said. He furrowed his brow at me, and I noticed the swiveling security camera capturing our image on tape. I shook my head and forced a smile.

"What do you mean…"

"We can't talk about this here. I can give you the particulars later, but… look, there were three off duty Bludhaven cops involved in a fight right outside of The Oblivion Bar. I left them unconscious but… I need to know if they made it home okay," I said. He started to form a question, but it stopped in his throat as he realized we really couldn't talk about this here. He let out a heavy breath instead.

"I'll do some digging. But it would help if I knew what the hell we were talking about," he said, brushing a hand through his shining black hair.

"Meet me for lunch?" I asked, leading him back towards the precinct doors. He laughed under his breath.

"Didn't you just bring me lunch?" he asked quietly as I led him back into the waiting area of the precinct. I smiled back.

"I think you'll have room for dessert," I answered as I handed him the paper bag that held the only thing I could quickly grab from my fridge: a half a lemon. For the benefit of our story and the desk sergeant, I leaned in and kissed Dick's cheek. When I pulled away, he had a satisfied smile on his face.

"I'll see you later, babe," he called after me as I left.

I got back in my car, smiling to myself at our joking shenanigans. But as I considered Red Hood and Dick's involvement and how uncertain I felt about everything that had gone on the night before, the smile faded from my face. I drove home quickly, hurrying upstairs to my apartment and setting an alarm for 12:30 pm before falling onto my bed and passing out.

Dick had texted me a location for lunch before I'd woken up from my two-hour nap. We met at the Mr. Pickle Deli in Bludhaven. When I arrived, he was already sitting at a diner table with two cups of water. He leaned back in his seat, one arm resting on the table and the other casually wrapped around the back of the empty chair beside him. He somehow looked relaxed and terrifically comfortable in the metal frame of a chair. He grinned at me, his eyes on me before I even opened the door to the establishment. He stood when I walked in and had a cocky grin as his arms stretched wide and he said, "babe, I missed you," and leaned in to grab me. I wanted to resist his embrace with a snarky comment, to push him away with a snide retort and make it clear I didn't want to play the role of fake girlfriend anymore, but I remembered quickly that we were on Bludhaven turf, at a deli not too far from his precinct. While there were no other cops here, the woman at the counter looked up upon my entrance and various other patrons had taken note of us. I couldn't betray our cover story.

So, awkwardly caught between active resistance and reluctant inaction, I froze with my hands at chest level just in time for him to engulf me in a hug. His arms wrapped entirely around me so that each hand reached down across my back to the opposite hip. His face tucked easily into my hair, messy and haphazardly pulled back as I'd run out the door. His lips were just by my ear. My hands, still tensely raised as he hugged me, had landed on his chest, where the feel of his police badge on his left breast pocket felt cold under my palm.

For the briefest of moments that lasted only maybe two seconds, I closed my eyes and let my impulsive imagination believe that this moment was real. My shoulders softened and released a tension I didn't realize I'd been holding; my chin dropped, coming to rest just above his clavicle in a small depression in front of his trapezius muscles that felt designed for me; I felt his heart beat beneath his shirt, the muscles in his chest masking the slight thump beneath my palm. And though it was an imagined moment, one that signified nothing and was for the benefit of onlookers only, it felt for a half a second like it might be real for him too. His hands were soft but possessive on my hips, his embrace tight without oppression, and his mouth seemed to breathe me in.

But the imagined moment ended promptly when Dick quietly whispered in my ear, "you know I'm never gonna let this go, right?" My eyes snapped open and I pushed him quickly out of the hug with an urgency that was directed at myself: stop it, Barbara.

"Yeah, well," I said as I hurriedly sat down, brushing a rogue strand of hair behind my ear near where his lips had been. He sat down across from me with that self-satisfied grin and leaned over the table. "We good to talk?" I asked in a low tone, attempting to not be overheard by the diners at the counter.

"Yeah," he said, louder than I'd been. "We're good here. What's up?" In a low voice, I explained everything that had happened to me the night before: the man in the sweatshirt, the fighting techniques that reminded me so strongly of him, the smoke bomb of Wayne Enterprises caliber, how he'd slipped away parkouring out of the alley, and how he'd waited in hiding until I'd left. Finally, I finished with the name Bruce had mentioned: Red Hood. By the time I was done recounting the story, his brow was creased as he thought, his eyes low.

"Did you find anything out about the cops?" I asked, my eyes wide and nervous. Dick hurriedly shook his head with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

"Yeah… Rich was one of 'em, only one to come into work today. Has a messed up nose, but the other two guys are a bit worse off. A broken knee and a ruptured disc. His story goes, they were stopping a mugging when the Batman attacked them. So I'm guessing you had something to do with that," he trailed off, rubbing his chin.

"I don't know what you mean," I smiled modestly to myself as I looked down at the table. So none of them were killed; they were all okay. Then why did the perp hide on the fire escape until I'd left.

"And it's not you," I clarified, stating it although it was really a question.

"After I… left you last night, I seriously just… did a little more work, then went home. I was in bed by three, scout's honor," he said, raising two fingers. I grimaced at him. I could guarantee Dick was never a boy scout…

"And there's no way you could've dropped any equipment, something someone might have picked up and figured out how to use," I said, again as if it were a statement even though it was a question.

"No, it wasn't me, it's… look," he said, leaning towards me suddenly over the table with his hands flexed. Now that our eyes met, I realized he looked mildly frantic. Stressed. Panicked? "It's probably nothing… I mean, Red Hood was a big deal back then because it was a copycat problem. The get up is a red hoodie: anyone can get that from Walmart, you know? This is probably just some asshole copycat that was around in the old days. It's nothing to worry about."

"A criminal copycat that's beating up dirty cops outside Riddler's bar?" I whispered. "That doesn't make you suspicious?"

"Well, yeah, of course it does…"

"And the fact that this guy had the upper hand on me, could've leapt off that fire escape and gotten at me when my guard was down, or at least could have finished what he'd started on those cops after I'd gone… none of that concerns you?" I asked.

"It's not that it doesn't concern me, Barb, it's just that…" he stopped abruptly when the waitress came and dropped off two plastic red baskets filled with potato chips and Ruben sandwiches.

"You two need more water?" she asked apathetically. Dick had withdrawn his hands and his gaze was fixed on the table in front of him.

"We're okay, thanks," I nodded up at her. She left as indolently as she'd arrived and Dick looked back across the table at me.

"I think… you're gonna take this the wrong way, but I think… that you had a crazy night…"

"Miss, can I get a box for this?" I turned back to the waitress. I knew where this was going and he was right: I wasn't in the mood to hear about how irrational my suspicions were.

"Hear- hear me out," he insisted, leaning over his sandwich. "It was a long night, Bruce was a total ass and ditched you, you kicked ass, and then this guy appeared and really threw you off. I'm not saying it was nothing, but…"

"But you think I should drop it?" I finished the sentence for him.

"That's not what I was gonna…"

"Dick, even Bruce sees that this is noteworthy. You're not gonna convince me I'm losing my mind over this, this is a big deal…"

"I just… don't want you to waste your time," he said with a shrug. I could see a nervousness or reluctance in his eyes. But my lack of sleep and sureness that he was wrong trumped my empathy.

"Yeah, me either," I said, getting up and grabbing my purse.

"Barb…"

"See you, Dick," I said in as neutral a voice as I could muster, and I walked past the waitress carrying the box to my table and out of the diner.

I went home and slept the rest of the day. I knew that it was terrible for my sleep cycle to sleep this much during the day; I'd slowly become nocturnal if I didn't just push through the tiredness to wait until night to sleep. But after essentially 37 hours awake with only a two hour nap, I needed to recharge. Furthermore, I needed energy for tonight. I was going out again to see if I could find anything on Red Hood; I couldn't just let it go.

After a good long nap, I awoke to the sounds of dad coming home. I sprang quickly out of bed and wiped my face with a cleansing wipe before leaving my room to say hi.

"Hey stranger," he said, his voice far more energetic than he looked. The sagging bags under his eyes made him look far older than he was, and the tired slump of his shoulders spoke of a long day hunched over menial paperwork. "How's Colleen doing?"

"Huh…" I started, and quickly remembered my alibi, "oh... yeah, she's good, she um… she'll be fine. Guy was a loser anyways, she's better off." He chortled in my direction.

"You look tired… long night?" he asked, hanging his coat up and starting towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, just… talked a lot," I stammered out. That's what sleepovers consisted of, right? Not having a lot of girlfriends growing up, I only had the portrayal of them in movies and books to go off of.

"You eat dinner already?" he asked, peeking into the kitchen. I closed my eyes with frustration at myself.

"No, I… totally forgot," I said, wishing I had cooked something before he'd gotten home. He smiled at me.

"You look exhausted, sweetie," he said, hesitating just outside of the kitchen and staring at me. "Go lay down… I'll make dinner and you can turn in early tonight."

"Actually," I started, hating what I was about to say, "I'm gonna hang out with Colleen again tonight. She asked if we could go out… she wants to get back in the game, you know?"

"And you're gonna take her?" dad asked me, his head low and looking at me through the tops of his eyes, dubiously.

"She doesn't have anyone else to go with, dad," I excused myself. "And I think it's the smart thing for her to do, so…" Dad eyed me as he let out a big sigh.

"Well… go lay down while I make dinner then. You'll be sleeping on your feet if you go clubbing in this state," he shook his head at me and stepped into the kitchen. As I heard him open the refrigerator in search of food, I smiled to myself. I hated lying.

I laid back down and texted Colleen about my alibi.

We're still going out tonight right?

She responded quickly, Yeah, totes. Want me to pick u up?

Nope, I responded, I'll see you there.

Part of me wondered if she'd actually go to a club on a Sunday night, or if she'd just be relaxing at home in her sweatpants.

I had told Batman I was doing random patrols tonight. He was happy to accept that, as he seemed completely focused on whatever was going on with the League of Shadows in Metropolis. Though he was staying within the confines of Gotham tonight, he was off on independent errands that he didn't want me involved in.

Fine. I had work I didn't want him meddling in yet, either.

At 1 am, I stepped onto the roof of The Oblivion Bar. I crossed to the edge of the building and looked down into the alley I had fought in the previous night. No movement. The bar itself was relatively quiet. Nothing important was going on. I leapt over the edge of the roof and onto the top of the fire escape, descending to the level that the Red Hood would have climbed onto the night before. I crouched low, examining the distance between the dumpster and the fire escape. The height of the jumps and speed of his escape was impressive but, more impressively, he'd done it without making any noise. I considered how the perp had leapt up here and stayed here, silent and unmoving, as I'd searched the sidewalks for him and given up. Then, when the cops he'd been attacking were still below, unconscious with their wounds, he didn't attack them again. He could have killed them, kidnapped them, stolen from them, but he seemingly didn't. Why does a man stay hidden at his own crime scene if he didn't want to continue the crimes he was committing?

He either stayed to extract evidence he had left behind… or he simply stayed long enough to watch me go. Because he didn't want to be discovered.

Because he was afraid I would discover who he was.