She woke alone in her Carriage House, her eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight that filtered in. She wondered if the night had been a dream, if all of it was just her subconscious letting her in on the truth. She ran a hand over the sheets, cold. "Well, it was worth it." She muttered and rolled onto her back, stretched her long body like a cat. She glanced at her alarm clock; it was just after eight in the morning. She groaned and got up. As she meandered to the bathroom she glanced at the picture of her in hockey gear, she paused, and smiled. She would start playing again. Why wouldn't she? It made her as happy as she was then; if she put the two together then she would be, well, unstoppable. There was no reason not to, she had a good schedule at work, and she would have mornings and evenings free, weekends too. Yes, she grinned, she'd play ice hockey again. As she showered she sang along to her Pandora station as it played from her phone. Reba's voice reminded her that 'the heart won't lie' and as she got ready for the day at hand all she could do was smile.

Inside the East Wing, not far from where Ripley joyously sang Blake was taking his own shower and singing as well. "I wanna put you in my car and drive. And turn you up loud, roll down all the windows and shout it out I love this girl. If I could press play, repeat how happy I'd be wherever I'd go I'd have you there with me. You'd be right where you belong, I wanna put you in a song." Blake shut the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He had felt bad leaving her in the night, but in the end it was better. He had to get to work, she had to get to work. They were two civilized adults who had shared a night together. "A very hot night," he muttered to himself as he began to shave. "A very, very—" He stopped talking with a scolding look at himself in the mirror. He had to focus. He washed his face and wiped it dry as he stood by his floor to ceiling windows. The subject of his thoughts walked out of the carriage house.

John smiled, a slight smile, barely there, but anyone who saw it would recognize the look. He was in love. Of course he wouldn't realize it, no one does until it's almost too late. He stood, watching over her as he did the city of Gotham. She was heading to her office on the west wing. She wore casual clothes that day, a pair of jeans paired with knee high brown boots and a white turtle neck sweater. He couldn't help but notice that for the first time since he met her she was wearing her hair down in loose curls. He smiled to himself and hoped he had been the cause. With that hope in mind Blake finished getting ready and headed to work, the file Evy had given him tucked safely in his briefcase.

0-0-0

"Explain this to me," Blake stood at his desk, his good friend Owen Bennett behind him with a letter in hand. John turned to look at Owen. "Explain the letter, Owen."

"All it says is first borns will be taken from the wealthy families of Gotham for what they did to him."

"The man signed his name as an arctic animal." Blake ran a hand over his hair. "What the hell is this guy thinking?"

"Should we worry?" Owen watched his partner with dark eyes. "Blake?"

"We already are," John sat down and pulled out the files. "I want everyone on this list contacted."

"John it's Halloween, all of them are gonna wanna be at the ball. Hell, you're gonna be at the ball."

"I still want them to know about it. Send the rookies out," Blake worried his thumb nail with his teeth. "Owen…" He spoke as the man started out. "Post someone out at the orphanage as well."

"Will do, Blake." Owen gave a cocky two fingered salute. Alone at his desk now Blake furrowed his brows and pulled his phone out, dialing Evy's number from memory.

"What?" Was the annoyed question on the other end. Blake smiled.

"Question for ya," he leaned back in his chair. "Any first born kids at the orphanage?"

"There's a few. I don't know they're financial backgrounds if that's what you're after."

"How…"

"You talk in your sleep…what little you had." She added with a teasing tone.

He chuckled and glanced out the window at the darkening sky. "Still going tonight?"

"Of course, I have a date with a masked man."

"What's his mask?"

"Not a damn clue, but I'll figure it out."

"What's yours?"

"You'll find out."

"Well, if we're playing that way, what color can I look for?" Blake grinned at a passing detective who had begun laughing at the conversation.

"Mask or dress?"

"Both."

"Multi-colored and black."

"Which one is which?"

"That's for you to find out. I gotta run, a kids coming soon." They said their goodbyes and Blake heaved a sigh. He supposed a long day at work would be worth a night of dancing.