Once again he observed, crouched as he was outside his target's window. It was rare for this one to be home at this time, much rarer for him to be asleep, but his prey had been up for the past thirty-six hours, trailing some deranged individual, stopping bombs and saving lives.

How heroic.

Then when all was done he had drug himself home, up through this very window, and had crawled onto his bed fully clothed and above the covers.

As he had many times before he stole into the room in silence. He wondered what Terry would do if his mother came in at that moment, checking up on her children as she often did in the night, and saw his choice of evening wear. Cautiously he pulled the covers from beneath the prone form and drew them to the chin, smoothing down the wrinkles in a gentle, one could say loving way.

A time ago he had convinced himself, or attempted to, that a discovery would be hindering to his chase. If someone found out about the man, about the bat, well he would be difficult to deal with on a fair and level field. It couldn't be helped, he needed watching over, to be sure that no one would snatch his kill from him. Of course this also applied to his enemies, who were the largest threat. As unworthy as they were, they often enough found a way under Batman's guard, by cunning, coincidence, or simple stupidity.

Such cowardly excuses, evasive thinking in defense of an emotion he wasn't quite ready to all felt like long ago, weeks in reality, but a lifetime for him regardless. And now? Would he admit to it now? No, not while he hovered over his prey, his obsession, he didn't know his own restraint so well, and worried the outcome should he let these...urges get the better of him while the teen was so helplessly laid out. Wounded animals were never fun to hunt, it was distasteful, without honor, and demeaning to them both.

Quiet as the panther he so feared he slipped out the door and down the hall, into a room he knew well, and whose occupant knew him.

With a sigh he sat, soundlessly, on the bed, so low to the floor his long legs folded like a frogs, his knees almost to his chest. He laced his fingers together and stared up at the plastic stars on the ceiling, loosing their glow so long after being charged by a source of light. The tiny body, so tiny it scared him what could happen to this person in this city, stirred, a head of black hair, as black as his brothers, popped out from beneath covers as blue as the afternoon sky.

"Hmmn, Stalker?" Mat said through his sleep, and ran hands over his face to clear dreams from his eyes. "Is Terry back?"

"Yes," was his simple answer, and he thought to say more, but as always remained silent.

"Thats good, did he get hurt?" The child was sitting now, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to mirror his own position, looking up at him with those big eyes, he never could understand how this strange friendship had developed. Only that it had, and for the first time in anything he had done, he had someone supporting him in his quest. That touched him, deep inside, in a place he hadn't even known existed.

"A small explosion in the beginning jarred his shoulder, he recovered quickly, as expected. A few cuts from shrapnel, and a very large knife, and the usual bruises, but he is well." He sat a large hand onto that very small head and felt the boy lean into it, like a cat almost. "He is resting."

"Did he come home as Batman again?" Mat laughed, and Stalker nodded, it wasn't a thing that occurred often, but it was what led the younger brother to his discovery the first time around, they both worried for the time the mother would know, and the unavoidable flip-out that would come of it.

"You know, you could always just undress him." Mat suggested and could only tell the blush in the dim light because his already shadowed face darkened all the more. The hand on his head shoved him down and he fell with a laughter like the chiming of bells.

"Sleep." His intruder commanded and he crawled back under the covers to comply, saying only one last thing before the man who wished to own his brother left.

"I think he knows you're watching him," Stalker turned to give him his attention once more, "and I don't think he minds." He shifted under the blankets, getting comfortable in the warmth once again. "That says something, don't you think?"

The window opened without a sound, and he was alone again without a reply.

"Well, I think you're both being idiots." He pouted at his little plastic stars, fading into the shadows of his roof, them smiled in a mischievous manner and rolled onto his side. "I guess its up to me then." and was asleep with that thought.

I am almost %60 certain this came out how Rin wanted it to.

Not the face Not The Face NOTTHEFACE!

niKola