"Explain," I demanded of the men on the rooftop. Realizing that beside three of Black Mask's thugs and colluders wasn't the best spot to have a Bat-Family dispute, I took the shoebox that his men had come for and the three of us fled the scene, Dick aiding Jason in the escape. We'd wound up on a rooftop towards the end of the block, and that was as far as I was willing to go before getting answers.

"Look, it's not as bad as you think it is," Dick said, waving his hands in front of himself defensively.

"Then explain. Why the fuck is he out here," I asked in a muted yell through gritted teeth, "in street clothes, no less, and why are you with him, why are you even in Gotham, for that matter…"

"Just… slow down, I'm gonna explain…"

"Well get started," I demanded.

"Batgirl, look, hey," Jason said, approaching me quickly, a raised hand halting Dick from stopping him, "he was helping me…"

"No, Jay, stop, you're just… let me handle…"

"Helping you do what?" I asked.

"Get to work," Jason answered. "You know what B's like. If I wait for him to give me the suit, I'll be thirty before he lets me help…"

"JAY. Stop, let me just…" Dick silenced him. I turned back to Dick, my mouth ajar as I pieced it all together. "Okay… look, Batman has been training him for years. Years, Batgirl. And he's ready to fight, he's been ready, so… I've been getting him field experience. Nothing too dangerous, just the basics so that we can speed the process along!" His words became yells at the end as I turned away and raised a hand in frustration.

"Are you serious?! He's not even 18, he's still in school!"

"I was on the streets long before then," Dick said. "And you've fought him twice, you know he's good. Admit it: he's ready."

"It's not your call, Nightwing," I replied, fighting hard to remember to use code-names and not our real names. "It's Batman's."

"He's too afraid to make the call. We're just making it easier for him…"

"All you're doing is making it easy for Batman to be pissed at you, and to ground you," I said, pointing to Nightwing and Jason in turn. "Are you kidding me with this, guys? Do you realize how dangerous this is?"

"I haven't let him get into anything he can't handle…"

"Batman knows that Red Hood is back, he thinks you're impersonating an old enemy," I said, tossing my hands out at Jason. "And to just be diving into fights with Black Mask's men, with cops, you realize how dangerous that is…"

"Well, hey, to be clear: I did not sign off on him attacking those cops," Dick said, pointing a lecturing hand at Jason.

"It worked, didn't it…" Jason mumbled and shrugged like the teenager he was, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"No, it- we are not having this discussion again right now, Jay, those cops are just gonna find a different drop point…"

"I really don't think the one with the ruptured disc will be back in action anytime soon…"

"That's not the point…"

"Are you joking?" I shouted over them both, and they silenced, turning to me. "This isn't a game," I frowned at them. "These are lives… these are your lives." I shook my head as Jason shrunk into his hoodie and Dick shook his head anxiously at me. "I have to tell him."

"No!" Jason shouted at me, his eyes springing open as he looked up at me.

"No, Bar…," Dick approached me quickly, frazzled. He'd almost said my name, but stopped himself. "Batgirl," he restarted, "you can't tell him. Not yet, we're… he's so close, he's worked so hard. And we're hardly going against his wishes. Batman said he might start easing him into street work in the next year."

"And that's his choice," I nodded. "His prerogative."

"That's not fair," Jason piped up. "I can fight, I took out Joker when he couldn't years ago. I'm ready. He can't sit me out just because I'm young. How would you feel if he didn't let you fight because you were a girl?"

"Careful," I cautioned him, as if to say, 'you're on thin ice, pal.' Jason tossed his arms at his side as if he were fighting some Sisyphean battle. "We play on his team, we play by his rules," I said. "That's how this works."

"Says who, Batgirl?" Dick argued. "I've been telling you from the start: he only gets to be your boss if you let him. You're a team, not his employee."

I had to shut the voice up in the corner of my brain that said, 'technically, I'm also his employee at Wayne Tech.' Not relevant Barb, shut up.

"Shit, it's 1:30," Jason said, looking down at a watch on his wrist. Dick let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Okay, look: we gotta go. He's gotta get home," Dick said. "Please, promise me you won't…"

"Oh, we're not done having this conversation. I'll meet you back at the cave," I pushed past him. I didn't even look at Jason. I felt angry, lied to… mostly, I just felt in the dark. For so long, through Bruce being thick and not sharing all his secrets with me, I had hoped that at least Dick was honest with me. Poor, stupid Barb. I leapt off the rooftop, heading back towards Bianchi's and my motorcycle.

I beat them both back to the Batcave. I had to believe they had some kind of coordinated escape plan out of the city, so that civilians wouldn't see some street clothed kid hopping on the back of the Nightcycle. When I pulled onto the pad of the Batcave, tucking my motorcycle into it's respective spot, Alfred rushed over to meet me.

"Batgirl. Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Fine," I said. "Batman is still in Old Gotham?"

"Yes… his tracker indicates he's in the Bowery. Why are you back so soon?" he asked. I didn't want to tell Alfred yet; I wanted to be able to yell it through with Dick more, first. I wanted Dick to be the one to fess up, not to be a snitch who tattled on them both.

"It's nothing. Tell me when Dick gets here," I said, pulling off my cowl and going to store my suit.

"Why would Master Grayson be coming here…"

"He just will. And maybe you should go check in on Master Todd, make sure he's all tucked in," I insisted pulling off my chest armor.

"Ah. You've found them," he said quietly. The breath stopped in my throat as I turned incredulously back to Alfred.

"You knew?!" the biting words spat out of my mouth. Alfred kept his cool composure, as he always did. He clasped his hands in front of his chest.

"I have been assisting them, yes," he nodded. "Suit alterations and updated gadgetry take some time to prepare, Miss Gordon." I tossed my arm bracers frustratedly into the cage that held my suit.

"Great," I said. Even the butler knew. Literally everyone was lying to me. What the hell, maybe my dad was in on it too.

"Miss Gordon, I do believe Batman is as of yet unaware of Master Todd's…"

"I know, Alfred," I said, removing my boots and leg bracers. "You want me to lie to him, too?" Alfred quieted at that and didn't answer my question. I scoffed to myself. "Is there anyone here that isn't constantly lying?"

"No, Miss Gordon," he answered. "Including yourself." I knew my gaze had daggers in it when it hit Alfred. But before I could reply, I heard the roar of the Nightcycle as Dick arrived.

"Oh, great," I yelled over the booming presence of the bike in the cavernous hall as he parked on the main pad, where the Batmobile typically parked. "Look who's here."

"Where is Master Todd?" Alfred called down to Dick as he made his way towards me.

"I dropped him close to the mansion gates. We didn't know if Batman was coming back soon, wanted to make sure he had time to hop into bed before Bruce got back," he said as he removed his mask.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want him getting to bed too late on a school night," I barked at him. "What do you think you're doing, Dick…"

"Barb, this isn't about me…"

"Of course it is, Dick, this is all about you. This is about you leaving Gotham and wanting independence, but then not knowing what to do with it. So you're back here, hijacking Jason, getting him out on the streets before he's ready, before Batman is ready…"

"Jason is ready," Dick defended him, putting his mask down hard on a desk by the monitors. "You just don't want to see it, neither does Bruce. He's young, but he's an amazing fighter and he's got what it takes…"

"He's a kid, Jason," I grumbled back. "Most of his childhood was spent out on the streets just trying to stay alive. Now he's finally got a home and a bed and security, and you're encouraging him to get back out on the streets? He deserves to be a kid, Dick…"

"Is that how it was for you? When you were little, watching your dad get his ass kicked by dirty cops, did you 'just wanna be a kid?'" he snapped at me. My jaw clenched as he touched a nerve I didn't realize was exposed. "No, you learned how to fight back. You were helping Batman dismantle Penguin's operation from the time you were, what, twelve? Before he'd even adopted me…"

"That's different," I snapped back, remembering the Christmas Eve incident when I had hacked Batman's communication device and helped him destroy arms shipments of Penguin's before they reached criminal hands. "I was safe, I was behind a computer in a police station…"

"I'd hardly call Gotham PD safe," Dick smiled to himself.

"I wasn't out on the streets in a hoodie beating up thugs and dirty cops, Dick," I snapped back, louder.

"You know what it's like to be in this battle," Dick fired back, stepping closer to me so that our faces were only a foot apart, "to be ready to fight, and to have our hands tied. To be able to do nothing. Jason isn't gonna be benched just because he's a minor."

"It's not your choice…"

"Alright, enough," Alfred interrupted me as I'd started to speak. "This is not helping anything. Both of you: go upstairs, shower, change. And keep your voices low. Master Todd has a math test in the morning and if either of you wake him from the brief amount of sleep he gets, you'll have me to answer to." I wanted to argue, but Alfred had a spectacularly authoritative tone. I kept my lips slammed tightly together and glared back at Dick. "Miss Gordon, there is a change of clothes for you in the first guest room to the left upstairs." Upon Alfred's urging, I turned away quickly, my long red hair frizzy and filled with static as I tromped towards the elevator. Dick lingered behind me and I could hear him stripping off the exterior of his suit. I went up the elevator in silence a long moment, the rattling of the old elevator the only noise I could hear. After a short moment, I let out a loud breath of frustration.

Lie to everyone but the team, but the team is all lying to Bruce, and it's because we're all teammates, but we should still report everything to Bruce, but he's not our boss…

I was so sick of this. There were so many politics and games and lies and I didn't know what lies I should push to get the truth out of and which I should just be patient about. I felt like, no matter what I did, I was still in the dark. It made me feel stupid. It made me feel like I was the odd one out.

Once the elevator haulted, I traipsed through the study and into the main hall. I couldn't help but stomp my way up the left main staircase. I turned to the left and the first bedroom I saw had a closed door. The grandness of the mansion inspired a sudden reverence in me, and I turned the knob slowly. Of course, no one was inside. But the room was grand and bright, even in the darkness of the evening. The luxurious bed had a soft, cream colored bedframe and a golden bedspread that looked like it was used more for decoration than rest. The throw pillows of gold and contrasting royal blue stacked halfway down the bed. A grand mirror hung over the elegant Victorian dresser, with elegant beveled mirrors framing the entire façade. By the window, two royal blue sitting chairs sat tiled towards each other, inviting tenants to rest in their comfortable embrace.

"That's his parents' room," a voice behind me said. I jumped a little, and turned to see Jason at the top of the stairs behind me. He had his denim jacket and red hoodie thrown over his shoulder, hanging from his right hand. "The guest room is one more that way. There's a sitting room, then I think the room Alfred picked out for you is the one on the right," Jason explained in a lethargic voice, his eyes low and drooping. He looked tired. With that, he turned away and started trudging towards his bedroom.

"Will you get enough sleep?" I asked as I closed the door to Thomas and Martha Wayne's room, and the question stopped him in his steps. "For your math test tomorrow?"

He smiled weakly at me over his shoulder. "It's just statistics," he said with a shrug. I smiled lightly at that. "But I never sleep enough," he said, still only half turned towards me. "Would you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Dick told me…" he hesitated, considering his words. "If your dad was fighting the bad in this city every night, and you could help but he wouldn't let you… could you sleep?" he asked. He knew my answer; he knew how deeply personal and relatable this question was for me. I felt a weight drop from the top of my skull to the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to answer. "I wish you'd help us," he finally looked back at me. His eyes almost looked angry, but his voice didn't show it. His youthful face looked so tragic under his sweaty brow and bloody lip. I tried to keep the sympathy from showing on my face.

Before I could say anything, he turned away and trudged back to his room. He didn't hurry off, but I felt silenced as he shuffled down the hall and disappeared in his room. I let out a sigh, not feeling angry anymore. Just conflicted. Tumultuous. A floorboard creaked at the base of the stairs, and I turned to see Dick standing at the base of the right staircase, watching me. How much of the interaction had he seen, I wondered?

It didn't matter. I turned away and followed Jason's directions to the guest room. The next door down the hallway opened onto what Jason had described as a guest sitting room. There was a left and a right door out of it that opened into guest bedrooms; as Jason described, I took the right door.

The bedroom was longer than I expected and had six large windows situated on the far wall across from the bed, which was an all-white vision that reminded me of ads for five-star hotels. There was a beige couch at the end of the bed that faced the windows, and another longer couch in front of the windows facing the bed. A fireplace at the end of the room looked to have been decommissioned, and now held a large urn. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling above the bed; it had clearly been an original chandelier, one that held candles before it was rehabilitated for the electronic age. At the far end of the room, another door led to what I assumed was the bathroom.

The bathroom had been remodeled more recently. Dark brown granite counters encompassed the room. It housed the sink, surrounded the petite master tub (which was large enough to hold me, if I were sitting with my knees to my chest), and covered the wall in the shower. The shower was already stocked with all my necessities to get cleaned up, including a new razor. And a clean new outfit sat ready for me on the countertop, tags still on the clothes, beside fluffy white towels.

I shook my head as I recalled Bruce's wealth. Sometimes it felt easy to forget that Bruce wasn't just my crime-fighting partner; he was also one of the nation's most eligible bachelors, the golden goose prize for gold-diggers everywhere. If only they knew him like I did.

I took my shower and cleaned myself up, changing into the Under Armour sweatpants and cotton pink tee shirt that Alfred had left for me. I reminded myself that I needed to just bring a backpack of things I could store in this mansion, so that Alfred didn't feel a need to go shopping for me so constantly. I brushed through my hair and tossed it into a ponytail, then left the guest room, letting out a deep breath and preparing myself to talk to Dick.

But as I reached the top of the staircase, I found my eyes drifting towards the other side of the second floor, where Jason was sleeping. I crossed the staircases and walked down the hallway to his room. I couldn't hear any noise inside, so I tapped lightly on the wood of the door with one finger. I got no answer, but curiosity rushed through me. I turned the knob as silently as I could and opened the door the tiniest crack. Inside, Jason was sprawled out across his bed, over the comforter, wearing cotton pajama pants and a Radiohead tee shirt. His mouth was open wide in breathy snores, and his freshly washed hair lay in a wet mop on the blanket. I smiled to myself.

This was the kid that I knew Bruce wanted to protect. The kid that Bruce wanted to give a better life, wanted to give another chance to. I could understand why Bruce was delaying putting him in the field. He'd raised Dick through his teenage years, watched him grow up, and watched him leave home. This was his second time raising a superhero; maybe he didn't want to let this son put himself in the line of danger again.

I closed the door softly, being sure to make as little noise as possible. I crept back down the hall towards the stairs, stopping again when I saw the light on inside of the next bedroom. It was the room I had stopped in front of the last time I was in the mansion- the room that had seemed so undisturbed, yet lived in. The light was on and the door was cracked open. I knocked quietly to see if anyone would answer, but no reply came. I tentatively pushed on the wood of the door, and gazed into the room as it opened up to me. The dark blue comforter on the bed looked cozier in the light than it had in darkness, and I realized that the boxing gloves on the trunk had tears and rips in the cushioning from overuse. The formal shoes lined by the dresser were polished, clearly not worn often. But none of that captured my attention like the poster on the wall did.

A white poster with red font and red framing advertised "the special return engagement of The Haly Circus, featuring The Flying Graysons: performing without a net!" The poster showed three red silhouettes: one of a man swinging from a trapeze, hanging from his knees with his arms outstretched after releasing the silhouette of a woman, thin and graceful as she reached to catch the hands of a boy, hanging from the trapeze from his knees and reaching for her in turn. I stared at the three red silhouettes, knowing that this had to have been Dick's room. My jaw clenched and I felt a tightness in my chest as I considered the pain it must've caused Dick to grow up with this poster, looking at it every day and seeing the family that had been taken from him. The anger he must have felt. Why did Bruce let him hang this poster in here? Why did he let him hold that pain so closely?

I looked down at the bedside table to the picture frame that sat there. I picked it up and looked closely at the family: Dick's mother stood to one side of him, his father on the other. All three stood tall with arms raised as if they'd just stuck their landings at the same time. Their bright smiles shone in the picture, and I couldn't help but smile back at the child-sized version of Dick that looked so happy and proud to be with his parents.

"We never took enough pictures," a voice shocked me from the doorway. I almost dropped the framed picture, I'd been so surprised. But I supposed it wasn't the surprise that made me jump the way I did; it was more the embarrassment at being caught looking at something I knew was not my business. "Sorry," Dick smiled from the doorway as he looked down at the floor, then cutely back up at me. He stood in dark gray sweatpants and a faded dark blue tee shirt. A fluffy white towel rested behind his neck and fell down his shoulders and his always shining black hair, now wet from the shower, seemed to glisten in the soft light of the room. He smiled, friendly rather than flirtatious, from the doorway, and I put the picture frame back in it's place by the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come in," I said, taking a step forward as if to leave. But he leaned in the doorway, blocking any exit, so I held my position in the middle of the room. Silence hung in the room between us, intermingled with all the things we wanted to say to each other. We needed to sort this problem with Jason, but after seeing the images of his family, I felt obligated to say something comforting. And then there was the tiny, tense thought of being in his bedroom, the soft bedding of the bed behind me so inviting. Finally, he straightened himself in the doorway.

"Do you mind if I… close the door?" he hesitated as he stepped into the room. I felt an inhale hold in my lungs. That was a bad idea, one that could end in me doing something I shouldn't in the privacy of his room, but I also didn't want to wake Jason with our conversation.

"That's fine," I impulsively answered despite my reservations. He closed the wooden door quietly behind him and turned back towards the poster.

"You, uh… you know how they died, right?" he asked, far more casual than I'd ever expected this conversation to go. I looked back up at the poster, then to him.

"Yeah. I remember seeing it on the news," I said. He stepped past me, rubbing the towel against his forehead, and sat down on his bed.

"I can't remember the whole night all that well…" he said, leaning over his knees as he looked at the picture. "You do so many shows, they start running together. I think back now and I'm not really sure if I'm remembering that show or another," he said. Then he turned down to look at his hands between his knees. "But I remember when it happened." I felt burdened with the guilt of having seen the video, knowing what it looked like and felt like to the crowd that day. I turned to face him and crossed my arms in front of my chest as I looked down at the area rug.

"I, um… saw the video," I admitted. Silence hung over us. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if he'd be angry. "I'm so sorry."

"When it broke," he said quietly, so quietly that even if the door had been open no one in the hall could have heard, "I was so close. Had I swung a moment later, or had the trapeze held for another second, I could have caught them." My chin lifted and I watched Dick as he stared into the rug, lost in his memories. "My mother's hand was so close, I might have… brushed her fingertips." He didn't seem to be tearing up, but I was. I held my breath as he let the visions play before his eyes. "And they fell. And I couldn't do anything about it." I finally let out a breath and made a decision. I sat down beside him, leaning forward to try to catch his gaze, and placed my hand on his thigh just above his knee.

"It wasn't your fault, Dick," I said clearly. I wondered if he could see the tears I felt lingering just below my eyelids. He pulled himself out of his memories and he looked back at me, forcing a small smile of gratitude. I felt him see me, really see me. His eyes stayed on mine and he nodded softly.

"I know that," he said quietly, his icy blue eyes staring back into mine. "But it's not always about fault, Barbara." When he said my name, I felt a thrill of energy crawl up my back. I turned away quickly and stood up, worried I was losing control. "It wasn't your fault Officer Branden beat your dad up," he said, and I froze in my tracks. Officer Branden had been my dad's first partner in Gotham. He'd been the orchestrator of several attacks against my dad by dirty cops, the instigator of so many of my nightmares as a child. Memories I'd tried to shut out reemerged and I felt my jaw clench. "Or your dad's. You know that, right?"

"Yes," I answered softly, my back still to him. Of course I knew that. Dad was a good man. I was just a child at the time. There was nothing else he could have done and nothing I could have done.

"But if you could go back… if you could stop that from happening, if you could stop it from happening to anyone else, you would. I know you would. It's why we're doing this," he said, his voice coming to a crescendo. I turned back to face him, my guard still raised.

"Of course," I answered softly. Dick rose to his feet and stepped close to me.

"That kid… who's only a few years younger than either of us, by the way… has seen far more darkness than either of us, and he wants to make it right. Who are we to tell him he can't?" he asked.

"It doesn't… I have nothing against him fighting, I just… Bruce said he's not ready," I answered, my hands in front of my chest. "He said he's still… angry. And he's still so young…"

"You're not angry?" Dick asked. And it wasn't a tease or sarcasm, but a real, pointed question. I let out an exasperated breath. "I get that he's young and sometimes brash and quick to jump into a fight," he said. "But we all were. We all want to prove ourselves, we want to prove we're worthy of fighting with Batman." He reached out and grabbed my hands, and I tried to ignore how intimate and close this was. His fingers held my hands in loose fists in front of my chest; a turn of his wrist and his fingers could have pushed between mine; eight inches closer and his lips would touch mine. "All I'm doing is helping him learn to control himself. I'm trying to show him what he can do so that when Bruce takes him out, he's more logical. More rational. More in control." I looked out the bottoms of my eyes. I understood. It didn't mean I liked it.

A simultaneous chirp from both our phones drew our attention, and our eyes got bigger as we looked at one another. It must have been Alfred: Bruce was back. He let go of my hands and we hurried downstairs to the Batcave wordlessly. We stepped into the cave just as Bruce was removing his suit.

"Barbara, did you stop Two-Face's men?" Bruce asked, putting his gloves down on a table. I felt my chest lock with discomfort.

"I didn't see any signs of them," I answered, "but I did find some of Black Mask's men. They were working out of Port Adams." I went to the Batcomputer and lifted the shoebox that the men had been handling.

"Quite rudimentary for Black Mask's taste," Bruce commented as he approached, examining the box and it's contents.

"In order to evade our searches, I'm sure," I replied. Bruce nodded, putting the box down from where I'd gotten it.

"Dick, what are you doing here?" Bruce asked as he pulled off his boots.

"I'm, um, just…"

"I asked him to come," I interrupted, thinking quickly. "He helped me incapacitate Black Mask's men and inspect the area for any further… uh… shoeboxes." I couldn't help but smile a bit at Bruce. He looked seriously from me to Dick, then back at me. "Did you find Penguin and Croc?" I asked. He hesitated a long moment before answering, as if considering if he wanted to allow me to change the subject.

"Penguin, yes. But he doesn't seem to be working with Killer Croc. If Jones is operating in the Bowery, it doesn't have anything to do with Cobblepot," he said, dropping his bracers in front of the monitor and logging information in the Batcomputer. I nodded with furrowed brow.

"Interesting. Maybe I'll go next time, purely for reconnaissance. See if I can track him manually," I suggested. Bruce looked up at me, perhaps a bit dubiously, then returned to disrobing.

"Good work tonight. Let's talk more about Black Mask and your work tonight in the morning. I have a board meeting at 7," he said, starting towards the manor. "Dick, join us… since you were so kind to help out tonight," he said in a gruff tone. Dick sardonically saluted him in reply, and looked back at me with a small smile.

"Miss Gordon, perhaps you'd care to stay in the guest room tonight? I've already arranged for your alibi with your father," he said. My alibi? Oh, Colleen.

"Sure, Alfred, thank you," I said, then took a few steps closer to Dick as I heard the elevator rattle up to the mansion.

"You didn't sell us out," Dick tried to suppress a proud smile.

"Yeah," I answered with a nod to myself. "But if I'm in, then I'm in."

"What does that mean?" Dick asked, turning to me with a nervous look.

"It means I'm training him, too."