Notes: This is where the flow took me to finish off this story. To those who despair, there will be more Batman/White Collar crossovers. I have received prompts for it.
The conference room was silent. On the screen was information about Dick Grayson. His driver's licence, the newspaper articles about his parents' deaths, his missing person's report with his photo and his police ID (expired).
"You're a cop?" Diana finally asked. It was that question which broke the silence, people turning to gossip and chat with each other, the room filling with a quiet roar.
Neal grinned at Diana. "I was a cop. I left the force before everything happened."
"He was in Bludhaven," Neal heard someone whisper off to his left in awe. Bludhaven had a reputation, even among the FBI in New York. Whether they thought he was corrupt or not, the fact that being on the force didn't end with him dead still impressed some.
"Why?" Diana asked.
"I left because my senior asked me to. I was in danger and putting others in danger and she needed to protect the majority." Diana looked crestfallen at that so he added, "she offered me my job back later on but, I didn't feel like it was for the right reasons so I refused and decided to find something else to do."
Diana raised an eyebrow but Neal turned to Jones, ending the conversation. After all, he wasn't going to tell her that he had been offered his position back so he could legally shoot a criminal who had been systematically attacking every aspect of Dick Grayson's life.
"What do you make of this?" Neal asked him.
"Do we call you Neal or Dick?" Jones questioned. "Personally, I vote for Dick."
"As long as everyone's okay with it," Neal responded. "Bruce is trying to get my name back anyway."
"It'll be Dick by the end of the week," Peter said. "Enjoy your last days as Neal."
A couple of nearby agents stopped talking to listen.
"You seem calm about this," Diana commented.
Peter smiled. "I think having Dick Grayson around as a CI might be interesting." What he had seen of Dick so far was someone like Neal but with a weight off his shoulders Peter hadn't realised Neal had.
"You're just happy that I'm stuck in the anklet," Neal pouted. "So mean."
"So, is it Wayne now, Caffrey?" Jones mused. He said it kindly but Neal heard a couple of agents mutter 'Wayne' in a demeaning way. After Bruce was known for two things; money and being a stupid socialite.
"It's Grayson," Neal corrected. "Bruce adopted me as an adult and I was much more comfortable keeping the name my parents held."
"I know it was a long time ago but, I'm sorry for your loss," Diana said. Neal nodded his thanks, having expected that reaction from her. Diana was one who knew that losing someone never really stopped hurting after a loss.
"Alright Agents," Hughes ordered, clapping to get everyone's attention. "You are now up to date."
"Mostly," Neal muttered. Peter raised an eyebrow at him.
"'Mostly'?" Peter questioned after everyone had returned to work. Neal was sitting across from him, avoiding the stares and questions for as long as he could. "What haven't you mentioned, Neal?"
Neal thought about it for a moment. "My brothers. I mean, I know you know about them but, it's one thing to know and another entirely to meet them."
"Are we going to meet them?" Peter questioned.
Neal shrugged. He honestly didn't know. After all, they all had their own lives.
Neal couldn't hide in Peter's office forever. Since his memory issues had been explained, he received many pitying looks. He also received a couple of congratulations for getting his memory back.
What surprised him was that it took only two days for Dick Grayson to be old news, which Neal was happy about. He might have been a conman and a person made to be in the spotlight but he preferred it when the spotlight was of his choosing.
"Want to share any cases you worked in Bludhaven?" Diana asked when they all went for coffee.
"Not really," Neal responded.
"If he was anything like he is now, he probably spent his time bugging people in the van," Jones commented.
Neal grinned at him. "We don't get vans. Only cars for stakeouts." Which was more than Nightwing got. There had been a number of stakeouts he had to cancel or do in the rain while wearing the mask.
"That must have killed you," Jones responded jokingly.
"Or your partner," Diana added.
"Oh, definitely. She complained that I 'talk too much'," Neal said, taking some liberties with what she actually said. Honestly, she had probably been thinking it.
It happened in a meeting when they were talking about getting a warrant. Peter suddenly paused and looked straight at Neal.
"Wait a second. You were a cop. You know warrant law."
"Yes?" Neal responded hesitantly, wondering where this was going.
"I want my book back, Neal. The one I lent you when we were after Hagen and you apparently didn't know warrant law."
"'Apparently'?" Neal questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"I knew there had to be a reason you were so good at staying one step ahead."
"You think I was using my forgotten knowledge to dodge the police?" Neal questioned, playing up being offended. Then he relaxed and grinned. "Probably. I wouldn't have been useful to them if I got arrested too easily."
"Neal. I want my book back."
"Fine, fine. I've give it back when Mozzie's done with it."
"You gave it to Mozzie?"
"I'm surprised he hadn't already finished it," Diana commented.
"Oh he has. He just hasn't returned it."
"I'm never getting my book back," Peter sighed.
Hughes coughed to get their attention and Neal immediately explained how they could get the warrant using a connection they hadn't realised yet.
The day that Bruce brought Dick's updated IDs into the office was also the day Neal; now Dick, invited Jones, Diana, Peter and El over to his apartment. June wanted to celebrate and she had the chef make up a spread of sandwiches, quiche and fruit platters.
"How lovely," El said when she saw them.
"I guess," Jones commented, taking a bit of a small quiche. "I don't know if it'll be filling though."
Dick opened the fridge and pulled out a six pack of beer.
"While I prefer wine and liquors, I did get something the rest of you can enjoy."
"Plebeians," Mozzie snorted, sipping his wine. He had been sitting on the couch when they all arrived.
They all shrugged it off. Jones, Peter and Diana all went for the beer while Neal poured himself and El a wine.
"So, what's it like having your memories back?"
"Great," Dick responded with a smile. "It filled in everything which had felt... off about my life. Although, I remember how much I loved travelling." He sighed since travelling wasn't something he could do right now.
"You can travel all you want when that comes off," Jones reminded him, pointing at the anklet.
"Surely the FBI can provide enough interest for you to stay," El commented.
Mozzie snorted.
"Something to add, Haversham?" Peter questioned.
"The things which we have done are far more interesting than working for the Man."
"While the FBI is limited in the actions it can take, it does play an important role," Dick reminded his friend.
"Limited?" Jones questioned, sounding slightly offended.
However, Diana smiled and countered, "you grew up in Gotham so you really can't talk."
"What does Gotham have to do with anything?" El questioned. A frustrated frown marred Peter's features.
"Gotham has alternative methods for dealing with criminals."
"Seriously?" Jones questioned in disbelief. "Those rumours about Batman are real?"
"What else would they be?"
"I thought he was just some myth which someone in the Justice League modelled himself after."
"How do you explain Robin then? I mean, he used to hang around here," Diana said. Dick smiled into his wine. He silently wondered which Robin Diana was thinking about. After all, he had lived here in his late teens and Tim had lived here for a while before becoming Red Robin. "Now we have Red Robin and his group."
"The Teen Titans," Mozzie grumbled. "They're bad for business."
"How so?" Peter asked in interest.
"So Batman's real and the teenagers running around in skin tight costumes and powers to spare cause more than just traffic delays?" Jones summed up, reaching for another beer. He needed it.
"You don't know what'll attract their attention. So you've always got to plan for them turning up. Plus, it makes dealing with costumed fools more likely but also more difficult. Groups tend to attract the ones who'll want to kill you if things don't go their way. They're the worst." Mozzie pulled out a chair and joined them at the table. "At least Neal was the kind of criminal that tended to stay off their radar."
"Was?" Peter questioned.
"Well you've got him dealing with guys like Wilkes, who's just one origin story away from being a supervillain."
Dick mused on that. Mozzie was right about Wilkes.
There was a cry of pain and a thud followed by what sounded like scraping outside.
Mozzie was snoozing on the couch, Jones had to get to bed early since he was in the van the next morning for a shift and Diana was getting ready to leave. Peter pushed El behind him and pulled his gun with Diana doing the same next to him.
Dick held out a hand to keep them from firing. He had seen a symbol flash in the darkness outside. He just hoped he was wrong. He opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.
"Dick!" Peter hissed in warning. They had no idea who was out there.
Dick recognised the figure in the darkness. It was hard to misplace the segmented cape spread along the figures back and out to the sides. He moved quickly and dropped down next to Red Robin's side, checking his pulse.
"Alive," he announced in a relieved tone. He tentatively checked for injuries by running his hands over Tim's features. There was blood on his forehead, his arm was cut and bent at a strange angle and he was unconscious.
"Dick?" Diana questioned. "Who's out there?"
"It's Red Robin!" Dick called back, knowing that lying wouldn't do any good when they could just come out and check. His voice shook a little as he continued, "come help me! He's hurt."
Peter came out to help him carry the unconscious vigilante in, El went for the first aid kit in the bathroom and Diana took charge of waking Mozzie.
"We'll put him on my bed," Dick said to Peter.
Mozzie took the first aid kit from El and walked over. "I guess it's a good thing to have a vigilante in our debt," he commented as he began to look Red Robin over. "But shouldn't we see if any of the other vigilantes are able to help?"
"Sure, I'll go light the batsignal," Diana responded sarcastically.
"What would be helpful," Mozzie said. He requested some water and a cloth so they could clean off the blood. Especially the blood from the head wound which was spottily covering half of his face.
"We don't have a batsignal," Peter informed him. "And no way of contacting the Teen Titans."
"Young Justice," Red Robin groaned out. "We call ourselves 'Young Justice' now. The Teen Titans are Robin's team."
"You're awake!" El said happily. She took the cloth and started dabbing at the blood.
"Where am I?"
"351 Riverside Drive," Peter rattled off, having memorised the address the moment Neal moved in.
Red Robin was silent for a moment, head lolling around as he processed that. Finally, in a small voice, he muttered, "Dick?"
"Right here," Dick said, taking his good hand and giving it a squeeze. "I have the stuff needed to splint your arm."
Red Robin groaned and his gaze flicked back towards the group on the other side of the bed. "Do you trust them?"
"Enough," Dick responded, "besides, they're smart enough to figure out that there's something going on."
"Sorry," Red Robin muttered.
"Not your fault. I don't have to tell them the truth. I will, but later. Let's get you looked after." Neal passed sticks and twine over to Mozzie, who began arranging things to splint the broken arm.
"This isn't a long term fix, you know," Mozzie said. "And it's going to hurt."
Red Robin hummed and nodded his understanding. "Communicator, you know where it is. Call Superboy."
"Got it," Dick said, pulling the object out of the right pocket. "If you'll excuse me." He ducked outside.
The group shared a look between each other, which ended with them all staring at Peter. Peter sighed and followed Dick outside.
"Do you mind…?" he questioned.
"You can stay," Dick said as he took a deep breath and pressed a couple of buttons, activating the tracker while making the call.
"Red Robin!" Superboy picked up instantly and with panic. "Please tell me you're alright!" Impluse could be heard in the background, speaking a mile a minute. From what little Dick could make out, Red Robin had been injured and vanished into the darkness before they could help him. He had been right there as Superboy punched the villain out but then gone the moment Superboy turned around.
"Not Red Robin," Dick responded.
"Who- Nightwing?" Superboy questioned, recognising the voice after a moment of confusion. Dick glanced back to Peter, who had heard the bewildered cry on the other end. Peter's eyebrow went up, the only sign he gave of hearing it. Dick frowned, frustrated that he couldn't get a read on how Peter felt about it. Dick rattled off the address they were at and, in a blur of colour and gust of wind, Impulse appeared on the edge of the balcony.
"Whoa!" Impluse cried, falling back off the railing and towards the ground three floors below. Superboy flew up behind him and gave him a push into the ground with a long-suffering sigh.
"Hey," Dick said with a smile and a wave. The next moment, there was tight squeezing around his waist as Impulse gripped him in a hug.
"ohmygosh, you'rereallyokay! RedRobin's sohappy'boutit."
"Uh… yes. I'm fine. Let go please?"
Behind him, Peter snorted. Having caught the attention of the two costumed heroes, he held up his badge. "Peter Burke, FBI. I'm Dick's friend. We were having a get-together before Red Robin appeared."
"He needs medical attention." Dick turned to Superboy. "You can fly him to the nearest facility, but be careful of his arm."
Superboy cursed. "I told him he broke it. But he told me he was fine."
"Of course he did," Dick sighed. He motioned for them to come in.
Superboy gathered Red Robin up in his arms, despite the other's protests.
"See you later," Superboy said before flying off.
"Well, that was interesting," Diana said. She stared at Dick. "Anything else you want to tell us?"
"Can't a guy have a couple of secrets?" Dick questioned. "Of course, if you really want to know, it might mean you'll have to perjury yourself one day."
"No one's going to ask us if we know who Nightwing is," Peter said. "Not unless you give them reason to." Dick held a hurt hand to his heart. It hid his real hurt expression by turning it into a mockery. He would never give someone a reason to hurt his friends. Peter's expression softened. "I trust you won't."
Dick tried not to smile.
"Nightwing?" El questioned.
Mozzie frowned. "If you're Nightwing, do a flip or something!"
Dick laughed. "Really? That's all it's going to take?" He jumped into a backflip, landing right where he had been standing. El clapped while the rest looked shocked.
"Nightwing, huh?" Mozzie mused.
Dick's smile faded a little at the cold attitude coming from his friend. "Moz, I didn't mean to lie to you. It's just I didn't remember until recently."
Mozzie forgave Dick the day Alvin Draper turned up at Friday; the safe house Mozzie used on Sunday. It wasn't hard for Mozzie to make the connection between 'Alvin' and Red Robin. The teenager was also wearing a cast on his arm. He knocked and waited for Mozzie to let him in before explaining that Mozzie was under the Batman family's protection. He gave him a means of contacting them and also a painting.
The painting had been part of Jason's stash and Alvin had stolen it off the anti-hero's wall. The Red Hood, dressed in a suit and domino mask, turned up the next day. With hood tucked under his arm, the young man relented and let Mozzie keep the painting after he explained how it arrived in his possession.
"You can keep it. It's the least you deserve for putting up with Dick for years. Keeping him alive would have been difficult. He's a trouble magnet."
Mozzie mentally prepared himself to keep his friendship with Dick. Neal had been trouble enough but, his presence brought about some of the best years of Mozzie's life. Plus, the painting netted quite a bit on the black market.
Dick groaned when Mozzie told him about the painting and the visits.
"I can't believe they basically paid you to put up with me."
"Their loss," Mozzie commented into his second glass of wine. "I would have done it anyway."