Tim wasn't happy. Well…truth be told, he didn't think anyone in the apartment was thrilled at the moment. His injury, received nearly a week past, and completely healed as of two days ago, had brought the tenuous peace between the members of his family to an abrupt and violent end. Weeks ago his father hadn't wanted him to be Robin at all…Dana had thought it was great, but wanted peace between father and son…and Tim, well, of course he couldn't give up Robin. But since their huge argument after a run in with Joker's thugs, they'd both been avoiding each other, despite Tim's promise to Dana that he'd try to work it out.

Well, if he thought getting roughed up by Joker's goons was bad…well, he'd just say being shot and lying in the cave's infirmary for three days had shown him the true meaning of the word. He assumed his dad hadn't continued arguing with him, instead simply demonstrating his displeasure, but not doing anything active about it, because Dana had talked some sense into him. Probably something along the lines of "we're going to lose him forever if you don't chill out!" Or at least something with that basic meaning, though he figured Dana would put it more eloquently than that.

But now his only ally had abandoned him. Scrapes and bruises, even extensive and serious injuries like broken bones, she could handle. The boy she'd come to love as her own being shot…well. That was a whole different story. So without her calming influence, his dad had once again begun an active campaign to end Tim's stint as Robin.

"Tim?" He sighed, rolling his eyes. He didn't want to talk to Dana…the traitor. Though, in all fairness, he could see where she would be worried about him. His return home hadn't been too auspicious…as he understood it, Alfred had called that night, with a disguised voice, Dana still wasn't in on everyone else's secret, to let Dana… and his dad, of course, though Tim knew that no amount of consideration would win his dad over…know that he was hurt, but ok. Yet when he had come back…driven home by Alfred, who parked a block away so as not to be recognized…he was still weak from the venom, his face a rather pasty grey, and with the occasional spasm in his legs which, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite manage to conceal. He assumed it must have been the first time the real danger of his job had hit home with Dana, and he couldn't fault her for her overreaction. But if he couldn't win her back over…

"Tim, can we talk?" He shrugged, knowing by the sound of her voice that she had progressed from inside the apartment to the rooftop behind him, where she would be within clear sight of his actions. He heard her footsteps, and a whisper of sound as she came to sit beside him. She didn't say anything for a long moment, looking out, instead, over the city. He wondered absently if she thought she was trying to "see things from his perspective".

"So…" He was Robin. He had tailed criminals silently for hours. He could wait patiently for the foulest of the foul to get done with a deal before striking. He couldn't, however, sit here in awkward silence with his step-mom for over thirty seconds.

"Tim, you know I think…"

"Not really." He continued to stare off into the distance, not wanting to see shock, anger, or any other emotion on her face.

"'Not really' you don't know what I think, or 'not really' you don't believe I think it? Or wait….maybe you just aren't convinced that I think… is that it?" The humor in her tone finally got him to look over at her. There was uncertainty in her face…and hope, as well. He recognized an olive branch… but wasn't sure he could accept it.

"Dana, I didn't mean..."

"Tim." She cut him off gently. "You're seventeen years old. I don't expect you to agree with everything your dad or I say. I'm not surprised at your reaction. But try to understand…we're not doing this to hurt you…just the opposite! When you…"

"Dana, stop. I know that. Some detective I'd be if I didn't! But what you don't understand, what dad has never accepted, is that this isn't new! I've been shot at, beat up, sliced up, and knocked around since I was twelve. And it doesn't matter! I know you think it does, but it doesn't. The danger is just part of the job. I have been trained…extensively….to make sure I don't get hurt if at all possible. You have no idea how hard it is for me to convince Br…Batman to let me go out every night.

I know dad thinks that he's an evil demon who's corrupted me and is throwing me into danger, but it's not true. I figured out his secret identity. I convinced him he still needed a Robin. I proved myself. I wasn't allowed out at night until I convinced him that I wouldn't be placing myself in unnecessary danger. And any time any of us is injured we're all stuck having to work seventy times as hard to convince him not to go psycho on us and keep us in. Dana, you said you understood why I did what I did. You said Batman and Robin were important, were needed. Nothing has changed, except your perception of the situation."

He ran out of words. He had resumed his scrutiny of the skyline of Gotham as he spoke, not wanting to be distracted by any expression on her face.

"I didn't mean to make things worse. I just…you looked so…" she broke off, searching for the best way of putting it. "I was shocked. You're right, I hadn't really thought about the dangers. You were so competent, so confident the night I saw you…it was as if nothing could touch you."

"Most of the time nothing does. But we're protected. Kevlar, flame-retardant materials, special devices for surveillance and defense. And…yes. Some have…well, there have been deaths." He frowned, lost in thought for a minute.

"Deaths?" he heard the consideration in her voice and knew she was putting facts together. "Stephanie. She wasn't mugged, was she? She was involved in…all this." She waved her hand vaguely, indicating the city and all his profession encompassed. He nodded, silently.

"Yeah. But…Dana, I can't give it up. I just can't." He waited, wondering what her reaction would be, knowing that not everyone survived the occupation. She sighed.

"Tim…I just don't want to lose you. But I know…" she held up a hand, forestalling his instinctive argument, "that we're probably more likely to lose you by driving you away with all this mess than by you getting killed, right?" she sounded hopeful, and Tim felt himself anticipating her next words breathlessly. "I know you're good at what you do. And you've managed to keep yourself safe this long. Just…promise me you'll be careful out there?"

"Of course. I always am." Well, not always…sometimes he knew he got a bit reckless, but she didn't need to know that.

"All right. I…I guess I'll see if I can talk some sense into Jack. At least keep him from the threats against revealing Batman's identity or worse."

"He said that? That he'd reveal Batman's…I thought I'd explained that too him! He…he didn't say, um…"

"Who Batman was?" she finished wryly. "No. But it wasn't hard to figure out."

"What!"

"Tim, what other reason would a young teenage boy have for spending 'quality' time with a playboy bachelor, unless there's something else you haven't seen fit to tell us, in which case…"
"No! Uh…no, no. That's quite all right. Um, well. Ok then." Great. Now he got to inform Bruce that Dana knew everything…not just about him. Well, she may not know about Dick, Babs, or Cass…but still.

"Don't worry. You're secret's safe with me. I understand, even if Jack doesn't, what could happen should the world find out that you're Robin. It would be rather suicidal to be broadcasting the fact that you're one of the world's greatest superheroes' step-mom, right?" He grinned at her and she smiled back, ruffling his hair, while he barely contained a burst of laughter. She thought he was one of the greatest? Well, he would try not to disillusion her.

"Something like that." The sun was sinking below the horizon. Even though he wasn't supposed to be out as Robin yet…he hadn't been kidding when he'd told Dana that Bruce over reacted when they got injured…he was planning on heading over to the cave…getting in a good workout…maybe bug Babs on the computer, or run into a certain female crime fighter…

"Tim, I said I'll try to talk to your dad, but I can't keep doing this. You have to talk to him. Explain your position…he's not as unreasonable as you think…I'm sure he'll understand. He's just worried about you." He should have worried about him when he had the chance…before he'd gotten involved in…but Tim sighed. That line of thinking would get him nowhere.

"I…I'll try, Dana. But I can't promise anything, really. I mean…I don't know. I just…I just get so frustrated…angry sometimes, too. And it doesn't seem to matter how calm or reasonable I try to be, he just doesn't listen!" She nodded.

"I know. But he'll come around. Eventually. It may take awhile but…think of it this way…you had the intelligence to figure out Batman's identity, the courage to confront him, and the fortitude to withstand…well, everything you've been through. I'm sure you can find it within yourself to be patient long enough for Jack to see the light." She gave him a look and he wondered if there was a class or something adults took to learn how to make kids squirm with just one glance.

"All right, all right." She stood.

"You have a good night, kiddo. And, Tim… be careful." Like he could get into trouble just working out in the cave. But he smiled at her anyway.

"I will."


Thud! His foot connected with the punching bag in a vicious manner. To an outside observer, it may seem that he was harboring a lot of anger. They would be wrong. Truly they were. He held no anger, no wrath…just pure, unadulterated rage. Thwack! Oops. There went the bag. Sighing, Tim stepped back and regarded his opponent dispassionately. He wasn't sure what had gotten him so riled up…he had left the apartment feeling rather better about things after his talk with Dana.

But he felt as if he was being wrapped in cotton. Kept out of the action. Protected. Even after he had gone through every exercise Bruce had required of him, he had been forbidden from going out again tonight. So here he was, beating a poor, defenseless punching bag to a pulp…and for what? Why wasn't he back out on the streets? What had he done wrong…to make Batman lose faith in him? Letting out another burst of pent-up emotion, he gave the downed bag another hearty kick.

"Sorry." He whirled, startled at the quiet interruption. Batgirl stood there, head cocked to the side as if contemplating some grave concept. His sudden turn, accompanied by a defensive attack, didn't faze her. She simply sidestepped, ducked, and pulled her cowl down to grin at him. "Missed me." She had no idea, he reflected, but squelched that train of thought before it could get too far down the track.

"Like I could ever do anything but." His easy reply was belied by the tenseness still in the way he carried himself. She sighed.

"I am sorry." He gave her a funny look.

"For what? Interrupting 'practice'? No way. I'm glad of the distraction."

"No." she shook her head and decided that this conversation might turn out better if they weren't in a room dedicated to physical violence. "Alfred has cookies." She bobbed her head in the direction of the exit to the Manor. Though she could tell he was a bit suspicious of her odd behavior, he shrugged and followed her out of the gym.

They walked in silence all the way through the cave… Cass pulling a jacket over her costume so she wouldn't get in trouble for wearing it "upstairs" while Tim grabbed a sweatshirt from the locker room… up the stairs, and into the house. Tim kept giving her funny looks. Which was really quite understandable, as she had interrupted him, apologized twice, then changed the subject instead of answering the question why she was apologizing.

Alfred, apparently, had decided that it was time to go to bed…it was, after all, past three a.m. That was…unfortunate. Or perhaps it was a good thing…no one to interrupt. Cass grimaced…as much as she knew this conversation was needed, she wasn't looking forward to it. They found the cookies easily…there was a large plate of them just sitting out on the counter. Of course, they were nicely wrapped and looked like they might be there for some specific purpose…but then again, Alfred should know by now not to leave any such goodies unlabeled if he didn't want them to disappear.

"So…you wanna talk 'bout what's bothering you," Tim broke into the silence around a mouthful of cookie, "or are you just going to mutilate that poor defenseless dessert?" Cass glanced down in surprise. Her hands, completely on their own, she was sure, had been nervously tearing apart a cookie…covering the counter with crumbs. Tim continued, "Of course, it's fine by me if you want to maim cookies to your heart's content, but I'm not so sure Alfred will appreciate the resulting mess." She grinned and shook her head, putting down the disfigured cookie.

"I…um." She shrugged, not sure where to begin.

"Let's see…I think it started with 'I'm sorry'…and we never quite got past that part." She nodded, resigned.

"Yes. I am sorry."

"For what!" He threw his hands in the air, exasperated, and managed to toss the remainder of his cookie across the room. "Oops." Cass laughed, but then sighed, sobering.

"I…when I came here tonight, I was…well, I had hoped to find Batman. I needed to talk to him. But I saw you there and you were…you were very angry. Frustrated. And I knew it was my fault."

"Your fault? What the…how could you possibly think that it…"

"Because." She wouldn't quite look him in the eye. "I told Batman….the night you got shot. I told him."

"Told him what?" Tim shook his head. "Cass, you aren't making any sense! Are you feeling ok?" She rolled her eyes.

"I told him that you got shot on purpose."

"What! I did not! What are you…"

"No! That came out…wrong! That was wrong!" She dropped her head into her hands, shaking her head in frustration. "I dinnmn thht"

"Ummm, I didn't understand that." She growled, she actually growled at him.

"I said I didn't mean that!"

"Ok! OK! Calm down! Sheesh." He held his hands up in surrender.

"I meant the lady shot you on purpose."

"Uh, yeah. Don't they all? I mean, it's not like all those gang members and rogues and henchmen just accidentally start shooting."

"But…"

"I think you maybe just were tired? Upset? I did get sick all over you, after all…um, did I apologize for that, by the way, because I'm really sor…"

"Tim!" She actually lunged across the countertop to grab him by the front of his shirt.

"Hey! Um, did you want to say something?" He realized he hadn't been on the wrong side of Cass' wrath before, and wasn't really looking forward to the pain promised in her stance. But instead of hurting him, she relaxed, releasing her vies-like grip.

"Tim. I know you don't get it. I know. I don't get it. I think maybe Batman gets it…but maybe not…and he won't explain it anyways. I just…she looked right at me and then shot you. Why? Why did she do that? Why, Tim?" She looked at him as if he had all the answers and he found himself wishing he did, just so he wouldn't disappoint her.

"Uh…I don't know. Maybe it was the costume?" he asked hopefully, thinking the bright colors of his uniform made a much easier target than Cass' black.

"No. She didn't aim at your costume. She just wanted to hit you, graze you even, to get the poison in you. She knew what she was…"

"Cass…so what? We always get shot at. So she wanted to shoot me and not you…so what? Maybe she's a crazy extreme feminist who thinks all men should die. I don't know. But it doesn't change anything. Any time we go out there we could get shot at or stabbed or…we know it's dangerous! I don't get what you're so concerned about!" Cass didn't either. She could see all his points, why he didn't think it was a big deal, but…

Why hadn't Batman let him back out at night? It seemed that he thought it was important. Or did he really not trust Tim as much anymore, like Tim feared?

"Cass?" He sounded worried. And no wonder, as from his point of view she was really acting strange. She sighed.

"Nothing. You're right." She hoped her tone and the smile accompanying her statement were good enough to convince him. He stared suspiciously at her for a moment, then shrugged, apparently deciding it would be a waste of time to try to figure out the way her mind worked.

"Ok then." He took another cookie, shoving it into his mouth. Cass, realizing that during her attempts at figuring out the strange suspicions she harbored she had worked up quite an appetite, grabbed two of them at one time.

"What is going on in here?" Both teens looked up guiltily at Alfred's shocked tone, Cass belatedly recalling her crumbled mess and Tim remembering the "one that got away".

"Um…"

"Er…" Cass hurriedly swept the crumbs into her hand as the two of them backed towards the exit.

"Ahem." Alfred held up Tim's missing cookie with a raised eyebrow. A twinkle in his eye belied his wrath.

"Yeah…see, um…" Tim actually shot a look of desperation at Cass, as if she could come up with an explanation.

"These cookies were for the workers at Dr. Thompson's clinic." Oops. Alfred always went down to Leslie's clinic on Wednesdays to help restock supplies, raise morale, and generally lend a hand in any way necessary.

"We're really sorry!" Yep. Cass was now the apology expert. Tim supposed that, having apologized to him so many times tonight, she had decided to keep up the good work. That was fine with him…he nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, we didn't know!" Alfred shook his head sternly, but then, with his classic wry humor, pulled open a cabinet revealing two more large platters of cookies.

"Very well, then. I suppose I can let you go free this time." They grinned at him, appreciating his joke. Seizing the opportunity, they escaped down to the cave, their troubles forgotten for the moment.


To be continued…