He hears her boots fall heavily on the asphalt before he hears her clearing her throat.

"Busy here," he says without turning around.

"Got you food." She crouches beside him and waves a paper bag in his face. He swipes his hand at it, completely ignoring how his stomach audibly growls.

"Jerk." She sits a good few inches away from

him, legs hanging off the roof. She places the bag in between them, straightens her back, and folds her hands together on her lap.

He clucks his tongue a couple times, refusing to look her way. "Told you. I'm busy patrolling."

"There's nothing to patrol. Crime rates have gone significantly down the past few months."

"It's 'cause you haven't been around to pick a fight with anybody." She smacks his shoulder and he smirks.

"You look like a jackass."

"And you're annoying."

"You're annoying. I went out of my way to get you food because we both know damn well you haven't been eating, and this is the thanks I get. Psht."

"Didn't ask, Babs."

He can see her roll her eyes and cross her arms from his peripheral vision. Now does he feel like a jerk.

"Thanks, Babs. You know I appreciate it."

"Yeah," she quirks her brow," whaaatever."

"Oh ple— wait," he cuts himself off, looking at her now. "When did you—"

"Well, I'm happy you noticed, good sir."

"Your suit… wow. Alfred?"

She nods her head enthusiastically. "Who else? One of the reasons I've been missing in action was because I got my suit real fucked up. But this bad girl's indestructible."

"Is it really?"

"For the most part." She runs her gloves over her kevlar sleeves. "Extra compartments. Totally lightweight. Dropped the yellow. I'm as discreet as can be."

He looks at the black symbol among the gray of her suit. "It looks really good. I'm gonna miss the yellow and purple, though."

"Oh, that'll be back in the future. Don't you worry. This is just for the time being…"

She eyes him like she knows something he doesn't know she knows.

And knowing her, she definitely does.

"What?" he asks, almost afraid of the answer.

"You never did tell me why you really came back…"

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because," she starts, pointing a finger into his arm. It feels like a puncture wound. "You didn't want to come forward until it was official."

"...Yeah?"

"Alfred didn't betray you on purpose. He just happened to mention that you had a new costume as well when I was picking up mine."

"Did he now?"

"Mhm. A classic Freudian slip." She squints her eyes and smiles mischievously, scooting closer to him. "So, Robin. Or should I call you something else?"

He slaps a hand on his forehead and slides it down his face.

"Awfully dramatic, aren't we?"

"I just can't believe somebody figured it out."

"Well, my father is a pretty damn good detective."

"But are you your father?"

She pats her wrist. "It's in my blood."

He mocks her and she sticks her tongue out at him.

"So… when are you gonna drop the mantle?"

"When I'm good and ready," he says quickly, looking back at the illuminated streets. "Drop it."

"Richard," she says, and he knows she's pouting. "I know you wanna tell someone…"

"You know who I told. And the next person won't be you." He squeezes her knee where he knows it tickles, and she slaps his hand away. "Yet."

"Alright," she huffs. "Okay." She grabs the paper bag and opens it, taking out a few fries and biting them.

"Ugh, I haven't had fries in… months."

"Looks like it." Fuck. He actually is hungry.

"And it looks like you want some. Too bad I won't give it to you."

He shrugs and pretends like his stomach doesn't hurt.

Then she's holding out a fry for him, and he takes it into his mouth. "Thanks, Batgirl."

"Anything for you, not-Robin."

He smiles. She feeds him more fries.

"Burger?"

He holds out his hand. "Please?"

And just as she's about to hand it to him: "Tell me the colors."

"Oh, please."

"No, you please! Tell me."

And it's just because she would keep annoying him, and not because he actually does want to talk about it, that he tells her.

"Black."

She leans forward. "And?"

"Blue."

"What kind of blue."

He smirks. "You'll find out. Someday."

"Alright, sidekick."

"And you're not? Burger, please."

She hands it over with a huff and he's got half of it in his mouth in the next second. It's crazy how his appetite is entirely inconsistent. He hasn't had a proper appetite for the past two months.

"Oh, honey," she clucks her tongue. "You gotta eat."

"I don't wanna fucking eat most of the time. It's annoying."

"I know." She rubs his back, but he can't really feel it much.

"It's just so strange that there's nothing going on here."

"I know," she repeats. "Hard to believe. Something's brewing."

"And back in Jump, there's been homicides."

She whips her head around in disbelief. "How many?"

"Two. Maybe more. Who knows."

"Wouldn't you be the first to know?"

He pauses. "Yeah."

"You don't sound so sure."

"What if something happened in the past couple weeks?" he says, standing abruptly. "What if they just didn't tell me?"

"Why would they keep that from you?"

"'Cause they don't want me to come back."

He wants to throw up everything he just ate.

From the ground, she slips her hand into his. "Hey. Come sit."

Hesitantly, he does. Like if he stands any longer, he'll collapse, anyway.

Something feels wrong.

"I'm sure your team would let you know. And by the off chance they don't, I'm sure they'd have a good reason."

"I don't know," he mutters, frowning. "I don't know."

"You trust them. Don't you?"

"Yeah. I trust them."

She squeezes his arm. "Don't stress yourself out."

A few drops of rain fall on his skin. The promise of broken heat.

"What time is it?" he asks, almost disoriented.

"Ten past four."

"Sun's coming up soon. Wanna wait it out?"

She smiles. "I thought you'd never ask."


When morning comes, the drizzle is soft around them like a mist, and the sun rises through gray clouds. It's one of the most beautiful ones he's ever seen.

He gets home and he doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat, either. He spends the whole day in his room, reading and thinking and trying to meditate how Raven taught him, and how Babs blabbed to him about.

It doesn't work.

He calls her to tell her that it doesn't work.

"The point isn't to stop thinking, dumbass," she chides. "It's to let the thoughts go."

"Sounds like a whole lotta bullshit."

"You ever think that maybe you just suck? Look, Golden Boy, you can't be good at everything."

He stops himself from heaving at the nickname. She coughs awkwardly.

"Well," he starts, trying to break the silence, " -it-all. Enlighten me even further, then."

"Imagine your body kinda just melting into the world. And keep it there."

They talk some more and when he hangs up, he thinks about it. About how to him, it almost sounds like praying, and he doesn't know if he could do that anymore.

He's exhausted, so he falls asleep. He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up after the sun sets.

He takes his communicator out of his bag and stares at it. Waiting for it to beep. Willing it to.

And when it doesn't, he puts his mask on and calls.

"Yo, what's up, man?" Cyborg says.

"Good, what about you? How's everyone?"

"Same old, you know how it is," he beams. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to check on things. Everybody," he says as easily as he can. Which isn't much.

"Everything's good here, Rob — everyone's good."

He sighs, believing it for the time being. It's what he wants to hear, anyway.

"Great. I'll be back within the week."

"You sure? I think you need this, man. You even sound a lot better."

How the hell did I sound before? Holy shit.

He rolls his eyes. "Of course I'm sure. I can't stay here forever. If I'm being honest, I didn't miss it much." It's a lie, but it also isn't. What does he know anymore?

"Yeah, well… maybe a little distance is good. Take another week. We'll be okay. If we need you, you'll know." He's starting to speak a little too quickly, now.

"I'll consider it."

"No rush, Rob," Cyborg says in a rush.

He raises his brow.

"Don't think we don't want you back here. Of course we do. But you need to get your shit together before you do."

His bluntless makes him think about Babs. And the peace of mind he's been trying to hold with shaking hands.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "you're right."

His eye widens. "Damn, I think maybe I was wrong. Sure you ain't ready to come back right now?"

"Nah. I gotta finish up that project. Should be done by next week."

"Yeah. You gonna tell what it is or what?"

He smirks. "You'll see it for yourself."

"I sure hope so. The team misses ya."

His mouth drops into a line. "Oh. Everyone?"

He hates himself for saying it. He really does.

"Yeah, even her. Don't worry, Rob. I can tell."

He coughs, searching for an out in his mind. "So, uh, Wally stopped by?"

"Yeah. No offense, but that dude kinda pisses me off sometimes."

"Yeah. He pisses me off too."

Cyborg laughs. "How long have you known him?"

"Long enough. Look, I gotta get ready for patrol. Thanks for taking care of everything."

"No problem. Take care, man."


As soon as they hang up, she lifts herself up and flies to her room.

She did not mean to eavesdrop— not on purpose. She happened to he passing by Cyborg's room when she faintly heard his voice… and she froze.

She enters her room, the embarrassment making her stumble.

Then she is biting the hand that closes over her mouth.

"Damn, princess, I think I'm bleeding."

"Jason? What are you doing here?!"

He rubs his hand while glancing up at her, eyes sunken in, but with his usual glint. "Wanted to see ya. Why else?"

She crumbles onto her bed, the panic still coursing through her. "This is not a good idea," she whispers loudly. "How did you even come up here?!"

"I've got my ways, babe," he says nonchalantly.

"I came to apologize."

"For what?"

"For the other night." His voice lowers and he walks closer to her. "For how I treated you."

"Jason, it is the okay—"

"No," he cuts her off, reaching behind his back. "It's not."

She gasps softly, reaching out to cup his hand in hers.

"I saw this and I thought about you," he says, sounding almost shy, and it makes her heart swell. "I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate you being with me. 'Cause I do."

Gingerly, she takes the flower from his hand, a pink so vibrant that it bleeds into red. Its center extends beyond the petals into a golden yellow.

"Jason…"

"It's a hibiscus flower. Ya like?"

"Yes," she beams, pulling him down to his knees by the neck. "I love it."

She wraps her arms and legs around him, kissing him so deeply it makes her head spin and heart warm. He hugs her to him, leaving no space in between. She smiles against his lips.

He kisses her with an open mouth down her jaw and neck and back up once more, burning her skin deliciously. He sucks on the spot beneath her ear, dragging a moan out of her.

His fingers are hot around her waist, holding her like she will pull away from him at any moment.

Instead, he is the one who does. He licks his lips and takes his time lifting his eyes to meet hers, a deep green soft like summer light.

"Hey," he says, smiling slowly.

She threads her fingers through his hair and bites her lip. "Hello."

He squeezes her hips before skimming them up to her shoulders and then down her arms. He unhooks them from his neck and brings them in front of him, kissing both of her hands. He takes the flower from her.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he says, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I didn't want you to scream."

She giggles, blushing. "I understand. You are forgiven."

"I hope so, doll." He inspects the flower before bringing it up to her. "Or else I would've looked like a damn idiot coming up here."

"Oh, if only I were as brave as you."

He grins lazily, placing the flower behind her ear. "I think you're a whole lot braver than me, Kori. Now what do you say we finish what we started?"

"Oh," she gapes, "I do not know about that…"

He looks dangerous now, palms pressing into her thighs. "I'm already here. And really, sweetheart, I could eat you right up."

His lips are back on her neck, hot and frenzied and sending a familiar ache to the center of her. She tilts her head and lets him push her back onto her bed, stretching his body over hers. His fingers edge at the seam of her underwear, teasing.

She grabs at the black fabric of his shirt. "Jason, no…"

He licks up the column of her throat, stopping when his lips are over hers. "You're gonna have to sound a little more convincing than that, princess."

That's when he cups her fully in his hand, and she arches right into him. He wraps his arm fully around her in the way that makes her feel so small and delicate and his, and she can feel his smirk on her skin.

He alleviates the pressure. She wills herself not to create it.

"You're already so wet for me, sweetheart. You sure you want to stop?"

She does not dare to open her eyes. "I cannot risk it."

"I know," he sighs, kissing her cheek. She winces when he lifts himself off of her. "I kinda lost control for a second."

She takes deep breaths, praying for her heartbeat to decrease. She feels heat on every inch of her, coating her like a second skin.

He takes her arm and kisses the inside of her wrist. "Forgive me?" He lays another higher up. "Again?"

She nods, waiting for the world to stop spinning. "Of course I forgive you."

He cups the back of her neck and pulls her up, pressing his mouth against hers so sweetly she tastes sugar on her tongue.

"I just can't get enough of you," he breathes.

She lays both of her hands upon either side of his face and strokes his cheeks.

"I do not want you to go," she says, grazing her thumbs over his lips, "but you must."

He pecks the pads of her fingers and hesitantly pulls her away by her wrists.

"See you soon, honey," he whispers in the quiet. "Now close your eyes."

"What?" she says, complying anyway. "Why?"

"Wouldn't want you to worry." He kisses her cheek and in the next second, she feels a slight breeze coming in.

When she opens her eyes again, she is alone.

She reaches up by her temple, touching a petal and smiling.


"So when are you heading back? Next week?"

"Yup."

"Been a whole month, huh?"

"About."

She's sitting across from him, cup of coffee in her hand. She kicks her foot up and rests it right next to him on the booth.

"You ready?"

"Nope."

She chuckles. "Thought so."

"You just love thinking, don't you?"

"I love knowing. And I love being right."

He flips her off and she blows him a kiss and a wink.

They're at the diner they had an awkward date or two when they were younger, too scared to look each other's way.

Now she's calling him a douchebag for wearing sunglasses indoors.

"The bags under my eyes are terrible." He pushes them up his nose.

"Dick, I thought you've been sleeping!"

"Not last night," he says, almost feeling like a child. He thanks the waiter when his pancakes come and douses them in syrup.

"Oh, god, that's half the bottle." She snatches it out of his hands and pours a drizzle over her french toast.

"And that's a drop. Live a little."

"You'll only live a little longer if you keep up those sleeping patterns, honey."

"They're lying to me." He says it like it doesn't make him sick, not even a little bit, cutting into his food. "I know it."

Her face drops. "And you know this, how?"

"I hacked into Jump's police reports." He takes a huge bite. This morning, he's actually hungry.

"Richard," she says sternly, pointing her knife at him. "Didn't you tell me yourself that you'd butt out?"

"Help me create a profile and I'll tell you who I'll be."

It almost feels dirty, knowing a secret kept only from him. Going behind his teammates' backs.

But he knows why they didn't tell him.

She stares at him.

"I need this. And I need your help. Now eat."

"But why profile?" she finally speaks. "I'm not a psychologist yet. And there are more reliable ways to catch a criminal."

"I know."

"And?"

"I just want to know what you think."

He finishes his whole plate in silence.


He stayed up all night, fighting with himself on whether or not to check if Cyborg was lying to him. But eventually, he gave in.

Honestly, he wasn't even hurt. Not even pissed.

And now that he knew, he had to know.

She stands with her fist on her hip, the other on his desk. He still hasn't taken his glasses off and he knows it's bothering her.

She bumps her knee against his thigh. "What do you have?"

He doesn't reply. He keeps sitting and keeps scrolling on his computer.

"Hello? Earth to Dick?"

His printer whirrs. When it finishes, he hands her the pictures.

She grimaces, turning away. "Couldn't have warned me?"

"What's the first thing that popped into your head?"

She pauses for a second. "Hate," she says, physically cringing. "A lot of it."

"You see a lot of that in Gotham. But in Jump? And with that kind of precision?"

"Someone who was trained…" she trails off, furrowing her brows. She looks at the next picture, face contorting. "Is this the most recent one?"

"The first. That's what I was thinking."

She flips the pictures, going white when she gets to the second victim.

"Jesus Christ…" she mutters under her breath.

"Saw those two up close." He shudders, the first time he really lets himself react to seeing it at all. "Imagine that."

"I can," she mumbles. "Kind of." She turns to the next picture. "There's something so… eerie about it."

"Yeah," he huffs. "I know."

"So you're just using me so you don't feel crazy?"

He smirks despite himself. "This is a mutually beneficial agreement. Take it or leave it."

She squints her eyes at him. "Don't try me, Grayson."

"Easy. I trust your opinion. There's just something about it…"

"You… you don't think it's somebody from Gotham, do you?"

"Possibly." He crosses his arms behind his head and leans back into his computer chair. She reaches to grab his glasses but he stops her.

"It helps me think," he explains. "Leave it alone."

She rolls her eyes and sits on his bed.

"Definitely someone who's been professionally trained."

"What else?"

"The way the victims are laying face down. Bullet behind the ear, execution style. Like a signature." She purses her lips, inspecting closely. "Lots of blood… what are the connections?"

"Middle aged white males. Drug dealers. Registered sex offenders." He chuckles darkly. "Lovely people."

"Revenge?" She taps her chin. "Justice?"

"Are you saying we've got another vigilante here?"

"Possibly."

"More than likely." He yawns, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Thank you."

She smiles brightly. "You're welcome. Don't sleep yet, though. You'll be up all night again."

"Don't worry about that." He stands up and grabs her hand, pulling her up. She cranes her neck to look at him, confused.

"Yes?"

"A promise is a promise."

She holds her pinky up. "I promise I won't tell a soul." He hooks his own around hers and grins as widely as her.

He leans forward, until his mouth is right by her ear. Hovers there until she smacks his arm and he laughs.

"Grayson…" she growls, nails threatening to sink into his skin.

"Alright, alright, alright…" He takes his glasses off, locking his gaze with hers. She's holding her breath.

He offers her his hand to shake. "Nightwing. Nice to meet you."