Dick let out a long groan as he sat down in his old creaky office chair. He leaned all the way back, rubbing the sore spot on his side. The ice did help and the bruise was barely bigger than a quarter, the outer ring mostly yellow. It really shouldn't hurt this much still. And it didn't – if he didn't breathe too deeply.

"Gotta lay off those boxing lessons, Grayson." Travis collapsed behind his own desk across the aisle. The coffee in his hand was no longer steaming. Guess Dick wasn't going to get any from the break room. The coffee was bad enough piping hot, even with a crap ton of creamer. Lukewarm wasn't worth the caffeine boost.

"Where's the fun in that?" Dick joked. Ah, boxing lessons. His go-to excuse for all the cuts and bruises that appeared from time to time. Many of his comrades thought he should pull back and give his body a break, but he always shrugged it off. What else would he use as his excuse? Polo?

"Well, it'd keep you from missing work." Travis took a sip, flinched, and put the paper cup on the desk.

Definitely not getting a cup now. "I think we could all use a missed day here and there."

Travis smirked. "But then you might miss out on something fun."

Okay. That, admittedly, piqued Dick's interest. He hadn't heard anything happening while he was gone. "What are you talking about?"

Leaning forward, Travis lowered his voice. "We had a raid go bad yesterday. One of the warehouses up north. An informant told us about a new drug manufacturing plant. But when SWAT went in to shut them down, they were ready for them. No drugs, but a hell of a lot of bullets. Most of them got away, but one was hit and is currently lying in a hospital bed."

Dick shot up so he was sitting straight, the chair rattling underneath him from the momentum. A new drug? Could this be related to Damian's intel? That punk. He knew about something going on in Bludhaven before Dick did. He'd never live that down. "Have you interviewed him yet?"

Travis shook his head. Something about the question made him uncomfortable. He was shifting in his chair, no longer making eye contact. "Not yet. He's been out since he got there and they wouldn't let us see him yesterday."

Nothing too odd about that. "Have you called the hospital today to see if he-s awake?" It was almost noon. Checking in about now shouldn't be too inconvenient.

"Are you kidding?" Colleen interjected as she walked up. With a little hop, she took a seat on the edge of Travis' desk, much to the owner's irritation. But he didn't dare protest. Colleen wouldn't comply anyway.

Dick always liked Colleen, ever since his first day on the force. She helped him learn the ropes and looked out for him. He was a little disappointed when he wasn't assigned as her partner. It didn't hurt that she looked like Halle Berry.

In which he meant that completely respectively and was completely aware of the shiner he would receive should he say it to her face.

"He made me call this morning," Colleen continued. "The coward."

Dick shot Travis a teasing look. "And why is that?"

Colleen answered for him. "Cause he wants to avoid the ex."

"The ex?" Oh, this was getting good.

"She's a nurse in the ER," Travis reluctantly elaborated.

"Ah," Dick nodded. "Had a run-in at the hospital?"

Colleen giggled. "Oh, yeah."

"Are you the done?" Travis snapped, though there wasn't any bite behind it. "It was completely professional."

"No, it wasn't," Colleen mouthed. Dick choked back a laugh

Travis sat back in his chair, arms out and palms up. "I'm serious. It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Hence why Colleen had to call the hospital," Dick sarcastically agreed.

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Travis turned to his desk. He was done with the conversation. It was hard, though, to move on from such an entertaining subject.

Colleen erupting into a fit of coughs helped.

"You alright, there?" Dick asked.

"I'm fine," Colleen waved it off. "It's nothing."

It didn't sound like nothing. Digging through one of his desk drawers, Dick found a packet of vitamin C. He tossed it over. "Take that. Don't want to miss an exciting day at the precinct."

Colleen slipped the packet into her slacks pocket. "Thanks for the concern.

"Any time."

With a sigh, Dick glanced at the files on his desk. Their lighthearted teasing could only cover so much of the bleakness held between the manila folders. Every day, the piles grow taller.

This was why he'd come here.

Yeah, he needed to get out of Gotham and out from under Batman's shadow. But he could have gone anywhere. Plenty of cities were void of vigilantes and superpowered heroes. When he was done with his pursuit of Blockbuster, he was sure he would move on. And yet, he couldn't.

Looking around, seeing the people of this city and the crime they were drowning in, he couldn't abandon them. He couldn't leave them to fend for themselves. Roots had dug into this desolate dirt before he realized he'd made a decision. He settled here and became Bludhaven's protector – both in the night and the light. While he believed he was making a dent these past ten years as Nightwing, somehow the piles on his detective desk never waned in size. But giving up wasn't in his nature, so he took the case file off the top and got to work.

Nerves singed under every inch of Tim's skin. His foot tapped rapidly against the cracked concrete of the sidewalk. Across the street stood Precinct Fifteen of Bludhaven Police Department.

Dick's precinct.

Back and forth, Tim debated. The reason he was in town, the lead he'd been tracking, Dick needed to know. It all started with him, after all. He deserved to know what could be coming in his way. Plus, he would be pissed if he wasn't told.

But Dick could be... testy when it came to reminders of his own time as the Boy Wonder sidekick. He and Bruce had worked out their differences years ago, but that didn't make the memories any rosier. And the tension was still there from time to time.

Tim sighed. He should just go inside. Go in, warn Dick, and then get on with his investigation. That way, Dick knew what was going on in his city and Tim's conscience was clear.

Cars came and went down the street, stopping in front of Tim whenever the traffic light called for it, turning red and irritating those who were running behind. Most of the vehicles were older models, spots of rust dotting the lower rim. A few drivers looked over at him, curious to the reason why he wasn't crossing when the walking man shined so brightly. Tim wondered the same thing. By the time he decided to take a step, the flashing hand had turned solid.

Was that a sign?

No. Signs like that didn't exist. There was no evidence that concluded he should follow it.

When the walking man flashed again, Tim crossed the street and entered the precinct.

No one paid attention to the teenager who stood near the entrance, hands stashed into the pockets of his jeans. Tim's eyes flickered to and fro.

He followed the cops visually, taking in the ones that looked overwhelmed versus those who seemed more relaxed. Chatter merged into a single hum, no single words sticking out as important. Papers shuffled. Chair wheels rattled. The tile needed polishing. The front desk had nicks and chips along its edge. No budget for polish, no budget for upkeep.

As no one sat behind the sad front desk, Tim ignored any type of sign-in and walked into the main room that housed the detective's desks. Most were empty, hopefully because the owners were off consulting experts or interviewing witnesses and victims. To Tim's luck, Dick was not one of the absentee detectives. He was seated at his desk, flipping through a manila case file. Tim swallowed down the building nausea and stepped forward.

At first, Dick didn't look as Tim stood opposite him. So engrossed in the file, Dick probably wouldn't have realized it if Superman was floating in his presence. And that was certainly saying something.

"Hey, Dick."

His head snapped up. For several seconds, his eyes were narrowed in confusion. When he finally realized who had spoken, Dick straightened up.

"Tim! What are you doing here?"

"I, uh-" Tim cleared his throat. The detective seated at the next desk made no attempt to hide his interest. "I came for a visit."

"A visit?" Dick repeal skeptically.

"And to talk to you about a..." Tim's eyes flickered to the other detective, "mutual friend."

Somehow, his roundabout, vague, and frankly confusing addition made it through to Dick.

Nodding, Dick closed the file and stood. "Follow me."

Through the maze of cluttered desks, Dick led him towards the back of the building.

In the long hallway, he turned into an empty interview, ushering Tim in before double checking to make sure none of the recording equipment was on.

"Okay," Dick sighed as he turned to face Tim, "what's going on?"

"Deathstroke's back."

Without moving, Dick's entire demeanor changed. Every muscle stiffened. His jaw clamped tight, teeth clattering in the quiet. His eyes focused – not on Tim in front of him, but on the dozens of memories connected to that name.

Dick's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "How do you know?"

"The Titans have had run-ins with the League." Tim explained.

"Wilson isn't with the League anymore."

"I know. But Slade still has a vendetta against them. He was planning a sabotage against the League while they were working with Queen Bee in Bialya."

"Wait, wait, wait." Dick waved his hands in front of him. "You were in Bialya?"

Tim nodded. "We were following some intel for Blue Beetle when we came across them." The kid had just joined the Titans and was still trying to figure his new powers out. They all wanted to help him in any way they could. "It was luck we caught the first sign of them."

Dick accepted this. "I've heard rumblings of the League operating in that part of the world. Guess it's confirmed now. But that's the eastern hemisphere. What makes you think Slade would come here?"

"Whisper A'Daire," Tim said. "Somehow he pulled her in. I followed her here, to the Glacier. I doubt Slade's too far behind."

"Fair assumption." Pushing off the table, Dick took a few steps past him and then turned on the balls of his feet sharply. "How long are you in town?"

Tim shrugged. "As long as A'Daire is. Or until the Titans need me. Why?"

Dick sighed. "Damian contacted me."

That was interesting. "For what?"

"A new drug is making the rounds. The department's aware of it too. Apparently, there is a ring going back and forth between here and Gotham. Damian's looking into it and will let me know what he finds. I promised to do the same for him." Dick let out a small scoff, probably at himself for being sucked in by Damian's antics.

"Bruce know?"

Now he laughed. "The jury's out on that one. Damian says no but... it's Bruce."

"So, he probably knows."

"I wouldn't be surprised, though Damian probably thinks he's being sneaky."

Tim's eyes fell to his feet. A few new scuffs had appeared on the sneakers Bruce had bought him for his last birthday. He would need to buff them out before he visited Gotham again.

He signed internally. He was stalling. There was no denying the obvious. But he knew what Dick was on the verge of asking, where all his previous comments were leading. And what his own answer had to be.

"You want me to stick around for it?"

"Your deduction skills rival Bruce's," Dick praised with a lift of his shoulders, bringing a heat to Tim's face, who cleared his throat to try and stave it off. "It's true," Dick added. "Scary at times, really."

"Well, thanks," Tim said softly. "I'll– I'll stick around. To help. This isn't something we can ignore. It could spread too easily."

Dick nodded, his shoulders relaxing with relies. "I appreciate that. Hopefully, with the two of us, we can get it cleared quickly. Before Damian gets too over his head."

"Yeah." Tim forced a smile and shoved his hands into his pockets. A tiny rock of guilt weighed down in his stomach. "I should go and maybe do a little research before I go back to following A'Daire."

Dick relented to this. "Be careful, okay?"

Tim nodded. "Will do. You'll do the same, right?"

"Of course," he smirked. "Before you go. Is there anything else that I should know about?"

"Nope," Tim answered quickly. Probably too quickly. But Dick said nothing about it. "Alright, then. I'll see you later for a meet up."

"Definitely. We will." He had turned and barely wrapped his fingers around the door handle when Dick stepped him.

"Hey, Tim?"

Damn. Had he given something away? He glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Dick walked over, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Do I have your new number?"

It was Tim's turn to be relieved. "Probably not. But I still have yours. I'll send it to you later."

Before any more words could be exchanged, Tim opened the door and hurried out of the station.