Tim first became aware of his surroundings when he heard the front door slam. For the past…well, he wasn't sure how long, exactly…the sun seemed to be edging over the horizon, which meant it had been at least a few hours…he'd been in a hazy fog…unaware of anything. There had been a few short moments of clarity, accompanied by sharp, nearly debilitating pain, sending him quickly back into the safety of the fog.

He vaguely recalled crying with Dana, but she was no longer in the room. He wasn't sure when she'd left. He also had a dim memory of Dick, and Babs…maybe…but they were gone, too. Probably out hunting…with Bruce. He hadn't seen Bruce for quite some time. Alfred had been in and out a few times. But…he frowned trying to get a grasp on the elusive thought…someone was missing…some…Cassandra. He straightened. She had been there…at the…he felt the tightness returning to his chest, and pushed the thought away, needing to focus now.

She had been the voice of reason…keeping him from bursting in on the police and revealing the whole secret. She had pulled him back, away from…no…not going down that road. But since Bruce had come and rescued them…she had disappeared. Something about that seemed…wrong. He stood, pacing as he tried to sort out the various thoughts crashing about in his head. Maybe she was out working with Bruce and Dick…he felt a twinge of irritation that he hadn't been included, but, unsure how long this logical mood would last, decided to ignore it, knowing he hadn't been in any condition to help last night.

There was still something wrong with the picture…an image of Cass' face popped into his mind and he stopped in front of the window and focused on that image. What was it about the memory that disturbed him so much? She had been upset…well, logically, as the scene had been…no! He grabbed his head, pressing his palms into his eyes, trying to erase the image that kept taunting him.

"Master Timothy?" Alfred entered, carrying a tray with a cup of tea, a sandwich, and an apple…thinking it had been too long since the young man had eaten. But Tim wasn't where he'd left him, on the couch, but instead standing near the window, his head buried in his hands. Alfred placed the tray down, and headed towards the young man. "Tim, lad." He placed his hand on Tim's shoulder and Tim looked up, a bleak look in his eyes…one Alfred recognized all too well. He closed his own eyes for a moment against the memories of other young men with similar looks in their eyes.

"I…I can't…" Tim broke off, looking away, as if embarrassed by his feelings. Alfred patted his shoulder comfortingly, wishing that his reassurances could be more than empty words. After all, how can you possibly tell someone, especially a child, no matter how mature he might be, who just lost his father that everything will be all right?

"I wish…"

"Who left?" Alfred blinked at Tim's sudden change in subject, but let it slide, recognizing that he wasn't ready to hear such encouragements just yet.

"I beg your pardon?" Tim flushed a little, but continued determinedly.

"Or came in. I heard the door." Ah. Trying to get his mind on other things. He nodded to himself, as he turned to retrieve the tray of food.

"I believe that was Miss Barbara. Mister Gordon heard about…well, what happened. He came to take her home, as she was somewhat stranded since Master Dick drove her here." Tim nodded absentmindedly, not really hearing a word Alfred said. His mind was still teasing him with traces of his earlier suspicions.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, lad?"

"Where…where's Cass?"


She sat on the hard cot, idly kicking her foot against the wall. It had always been a challenge taking on Cain…and not just because of the skills he possessed. There was still a part of her which recognized him as her father and had trouble closing in for the kill. On the other hand, the better part of her life, her formative years, had been spent doing just that…fighting him. She glanced at him now, where he lay motionless on the floor of the cell. She supposed she should be grateful to have defeated him at all…and that she hadn't crossed that line she had sworn never to cross again. She kicked the wall again…more viciously this time.

A moan rose from the figure on the floor and she tensed. He pushed himself to a sitting position and looked around. His eyes widened, apparently surprised to see her…either because he hadn't thought she'd stick around, he hadn't thought she'd leave him alive, or some other reason completely unknown to her. But a look of pride replaced the surprise and Cass felt her stomach clench with nausea and shame. She didn't want to give him any reason to be proud of her! He was a killer! A heartless, evil, horrible, nasty, repulsive, unspeakable…well, you get the picture.

He examined his injuries, apparently unconcerned by the broken bones in his arm, leg, and ribs. Nor the swelling bruises and cuts on his face and every other uncovered part of his body. He looked at her again, his movements showing his injuries bothered him not a bit, but rather pleased him as they indicated a high level of skill on her part. She shook her head, angry and tired of the useless violence.

"Why?" She didn't bother explaining her question…it was the same one she'd been asking since she came in the door…the same one she'd asked as she pummeled him into a bloody pulp…and the one she would continue to ask until she had an answer.

"You continue to assume I have knowledge of what you're talking about." She wanted to throw something. Instead she just stared at him. He knew, more than anyone perhaps, how well she could read people…he was just toying with her. Perhaps he thought she was just fishing…not really aware of what had transpired. She squatted down so she could look him in the eye.

"I…saw the body." He raised an eyebrow, not impressed. "Only a handful of people in the world know that…technique…" her stomach rebelled again…to call what had been done to Tim's father a "technique" was putting much to kind a face on it. It had been a torture method, one used to inflict the maximum pain, with a minimum of visual damage…unless you know what to look for. Similar to what he had done to Vesper Fairchild, the technique differed in that in that case it had been intended to show the damage done…in this case, only someone familiar with the process would notice…the marks were practically invisible.

The police wouldn't even notice...it had been done as a message…to her, or Batman…she didn't know to whom it was intended, but it didn't matter. All the police would see was a possible foiled break-in, or domestic dispute, or something…anything…that would end with Mr. Drake the victim of a crime of passion…a fast death, as having half of one's head blown away tended to be. No one would know how he'd suffered before that.

"So. You're turning into a real detective, aren't you?" He was mocking her, and she ground her teeth together. He shrugged. No matter her threat, he knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to kill again…not even him.

"What's the point? Why did you…what's in it for you!" She grabbed the front of his jumper, slamming him back against the wall again. The look in his eyes hardened.

"You want answers? Fine. Someone put a hit out on your little boyfriend…" apparently her face betrayed her, because his lip curled as he continued, "yes, I know all about that. You don't think I'd stay in here without keeping my lines of communication open, do you? The reports of Batgirl and Robin working together have increased over the past few months until your names are always linked." There was a deeper bitterness in his eyes than she had previously seen, and she shivered.

"But…"

"The call was for information on Robin's identity, along with the death of everyone related or important to the boy. Only Robin was to be left alive…apparently your friend's made somebody powerful very, very angry." He relished telling her this, she saw, and she kept her face in a still mask, not wanting to give anything away.

"You…"

"Don't worry," he sneered, "I'm not giving away any of your precious 'secret identities'," He laughed unpleasantly, "no one even knows I'm fulfilling their contract for them."

"But…then…why?" His eyes were hard and he pushed her away from him, struggling to his feet.

"Did you really think I was going to stay in here forever? It suited my purposes to let Batman use you, train you for awhile, but that doesn't mean I'll sit back and watch all my hard work go to nothing. I didn't spend all those years training you…molding you…to watch you throw it away. You've stagnated. This…opportunity…simply gives me the chance to get back in the game. When the time is right, I may share the information I have with those seeking it…once I find out who they are. If I were to let some amateur handle it, they might decide you are important to Robin and try to take you out as well." Not one ounce of concern touched his features.

"Not that they'd succeed," he continued nonchalantly, "but I didn't work for years to make you what you are to see you throw it all away on a… erp!" She caught him across the throat, cutting off his words and then swinging around to deliver a well-placed kick to his temple, rendering him unconscious again. He would have a killer headache when he woke up. She smiled grimly to herself, then frowned. It didn't change the fact that he had an airtight alibi, at least according to the police, and she had no way to ensure he wouldn't leave the island again. Tears threatened again, and she viciously brought them under control. They would all loathe her, but it was time to bring in back-up…and tell everyone the truth.


"I don't believe this!" Batman's eyes didn't so much as flicker in Nightwing's direction. They had been out until nearly dawn hunting down clues into the murder, without much luck. The body had been taken to the morgue where two workers remained all night, blocking any attempt at studying the body, and the crime scene had been swarming with cops. They had managed to get some work done, but considering the situation, it wasn't nearly enough. Especially, as Nightwing had just discovered, the press had already decided that it was likely that Mrs. Drake was the most logical culprit.

"How dense can you get? I mean, really! It's not enough that…" Batman tuned his tirade out. It didn't matter what the press thought, although the way they had already tried, convicted, and practically executed Mrs. Drake was despicable…but then he'd never had much use for the media. Apparently the fact that Dana was quite a few years younger than Jack hadn't escaped notice, nor had the fact that his financial affairs were finally beginning to turn around again. Even though the police kept insisting that they were still looking into the murder, as a break in attempt or any other alternative, the thought of a gold-digging wife wasn't far from anyone's mind. Batman rubbed a gloved hand over weary eyes. He didn't think Dana had done it, but without any evidence, he didn't have any other leads to use to clear her name.

At least the police had backed off for the moment. His lawyers had done the job of getting her out of the station well enough, but they needed more information to keep her out. Batman turned from the monitor, thinking that perhaps a break could bring an answer, as getting the mind off a problem was wont to do, only to find Nightwing glaring at him. He frowned, unsure what the younger man's problem was now.

"Were you listening at all?"

"No." He moved towards the costume vault, knowing Bruce Wayne was expected at a board meeting today. Nightwing dogged his heels with an exasperated sigh.

"What are you planning? Let me in on this, Bruce." His tone was bordering on the whiny, but he was tired of Bruce always shutting everyone out of important happenings.

"I'm not planning anything."

"What!" That had caught him sufficiently off guard to stop him in his tracks for a second, but he quickly recovered and chased after his recalcitrant mentor. "What do you mean you're not planning anything? You…" Batman sighed and pulled off his cowl and cape, continuing to prepare for the day ahead even as he cut off Nightwing's rather panicky-sounding rant.

"Without a good look at the body and crime scene we don't have enough evidence to even begin formulating hypotheses, let alone carrying out complex plans to…"

"Don't give me that! I know you know more than you're letting on. Tim told me he thought you were keeping something from him, Cassandra's disappeared, and you're acting like it's just another crime…and it's not!" He maneuvered his way around to block the older man's path. "Don't you remember what it was like? Right now Tim's in shock, but you know it won't take him long to hit that stage where you just have to get revenge, justice, whatever you want to call it, and you're not always thinking straight and it doesn't matter who gets in the way!" Bruce glared down at him throughout his tirade, then brushed past him towards the stairs.

"Are you done?" When Nightwing didn't answer, he glanced over his shoulder to find the younger man glaring at him in disbelief. "I have had suspicions about Robin in the last few weeks…he's been the subject of vicious attacks, more, even, than he's aware of. But this is the first indication that the incidents could go deeper…that his identity is compromised, or that this is a larger game than we thought. It is possible that Jack Drake's death was an accident, or at least unrelated to Tim's activities as Robin. But until we discover the truth, I want as few people involved in this investigation as possible." He paused, considering how best to phrase his command so as not to offend his old partner.

"I'd appreciate it if you could keep an eye on Tim…and Cassandra if she turns back up. I think she knows something…but she hasn't spoken up yet, so I'm not counting on her. I'm not shutting you out, Dick," he countered gruffly as the young man started to object, "I really need your help on this. Like you said, Tim's going to reach a point when he can't hold back any longer. You're younger and closer to him…he may listen to you." He glanced at Nightwing in question. Nightwing hesitated, but nodded grudgingly. He continued matter-of-factly…

"If not, I'm counting on you to keep him from doing something he'll regret."


To be continued…