Police reports were the worst part of the job, there was no doubt about it. He had been doing them for over fifteen years, but they never got any easier to do. Harvey Bullock was no stranger to the fact that his choice of words were never favorable with the police board, but that never stopped him from continuing to write it his way. That never bothered him, in fact he sometimes liked having to have internal affairs take another stab at him, gave him a good laugh. What bothered him the most about it was that they just took so long to do when he could be out there on the streets doing some actual good and not doing this paper-pusher crap.

"You must be writing your reports," Renee Montoya said placing the cup of coffee and a halve a dozen doughnuts she brought over to share.

"No, I'm doin' my taxes," he said sarcastically, picking out a doughnut and taking a bite out of it, "besides, how do you know what I am or what I ain't doin'?"

"You always look constipated when you do your reports," she smiled at him, "besides there really isn't much work out there right now."

"There's always work to do in this city." he said turning back to his report.

"Well yeah," she said, "but it's weird. Normally we would be out there hunting down a gang or trying to stop the next big drug wave, but here we are, trying to keep awake. Hell, you're almost caught up with your paperwork, I thought that would never happen." Bullock glared up at her.

"Your point?"

"I'm just saying that for Gotham to be this quiet is weird," she said taking a sip of coffee, "I've never seen the crime rates so low, and for so long before." Bullock was about to say something when he saw Commissioner Gordon walk in.

"Hey Commish," he said to him, "what's up? Got any new cases for us to work on? I'm itching to go back out on the street and busting butts out there." Gordon looked at him, and almost seemed sad to say:

"Sorry Bullock, but there's just nothing going on right now." Montoya looked at him. It was strange, crime was at a all time low and Jim looked like he wanted to jump off a bridge.

"Is something wrong Commissioner," she asked him gently, "you look like as if crime was at a all time high instead of a low."

"I'm just worried on why it is." he said sadly.

"What, your worried about the freak now Jim," Bullock said dismissively, "come on, even you got to admit the Bat was always nuts. It's not your fault that he's gone into overdrive."

"It is odd that Batman has been more active," Montoya said, "but are you really that worried about him?" Gordon looked at the two detectives.

"All I can say is if you knew him like I do," he said walking toward his office, "you'd be worried too." After he closed the door, Montoya and Bullock exchanged concerned looks.

Commissioner Gordon walked over to his desk and sat down. He should be happy, they were right but, it wasn't normal for Batman to flat-out ignore him or major crimes. Something was wrong, he could feel it and he didn't even know what it was or how he could help his old friend. He felt a breeze, and quickly turned to the window.

"Batman?" he asked almost eagerly. No, it wasn't Batman, but a friend none the less.

"Oh, it's only you Nightwing," he said sinking back down into his chair, "I was hoping it was Batman." Jim then thought about it.

"Wait a minute," he said turning back to him, "it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon; from what I understand is that you guys are practically nocturnal. What brings you here at this time of day?" Nightwing looked at him, his expression never changed from the cold seriousness that he came in with. Normally, even after he had grown up from the role of Robin, he usually had a smile or a joke to break things up. This was not like him at all.

"Robin's gone missing."

"How long?" Jim said quietly.

"Three months."

"That's about when Batman started to get more violent. You know he use to break bones in the past, but lately he's been crippling them," Gordon said to Nightwing.

"We've done our best looking for him," Nightwing said, "and we've come up with noting. I know Batman want's this to stay quiet, but..."

"I understand," Jim said, "I'd like to help in anyway I can. I can have the boys looking..."

"Keep the circle small Commissioner," Nightwing warned, "It's going to be bad enough that I've told you."

"Ok, I'll have just the two in mind. They'll be the only ones who'll know. I promise you that." Nightwing nodded and turned to leave.

"Before you go," Gordon asked, "can you answer me something?" Nightwing turned and looked at him. "Is there any reason why he didn't tell me sooner?"

"I don't know Commissioner," he said turning back to the window, "you'll have to ask him yourself." and with that he jumped out of the window silently. Jim turned back to his desk and pressed the intercom button on it.

"Bullock; Montoya...in my office now."

The first thing he was going to go do after this was go to the nearest hardware store and buy a lock pick set. He had been smashing the door handle for about ten minutes and had gone through about three bricks in the process. Hunger was driving him to break into the other side of the bakery and he was getting frustrated, he had to dig at the old oven's crack to dig out some bricks and that took some time to do so. He kept smashing and smashing, hoping to break the door handle soon. Finally, one last smash and the thing finally broke. He backed up and kicked the door where Bruce had trained him to, making the door finally pop open. He had tried doing that earlier, but all he did was hurt his leg. He looked around again to make sure that there wasn't any security of any sort and like before there wasn't. Finally, a little bit of luck in a long time. He picked out a loaf of bread and started to eat it, it didn't matter what kind to him. He only managed to get about six bites in when he started to feel sick.

'Must of ate too quick,' he thought to himself, 'better stop for now.' He put the bread down and decided to look around, away from the window. He looked in the kitchen and saw all the bread making equipment and saw something he didn't expect to see: surgical masks.

'Why would a bakery have these?' he thought to himself. It turned out that there was an employee allergic to gluten, and would wear them so they wouldn't get sick. It didn't mater though why they where there, but the fact that they were there was just perfect. It was still a bad idea in Gotham to ware a mask of any form, but a surgical mask on a kid would just make him look like he had a cold. He grabbed a hand full and ran back to the back of the bakery. He put all but one of the masks into his bag and pulled out one of the makeup foundations and one of the lipsticks and headed for the bathroom. He took off his gloves and then looked at the makeup.

'How do you put this stuff on?' he thought. It's not like he ever asked Barbra on how to do it. He opened the makeup and put some on his hand. It was runnier than he was expecting. He started to put it on his face, over his eyes and down his neck. Soon, his face was a normal color, but with the white undercoat, he looked pale. That was fine, it would help out with his mask. He put on (as best as he could) the lipstick because he was already feeling fabulous anyway. He laughed at the idea and in doing so, he smeared the lipstick on his face. After cleaning that up, he went over to his spare clothes and put them on, including the glasses and the mask he left out. He looked like a sick, gang-banger wannabe.

'Oh well,' he thought, 'it's the best I can do for now.' He tossed the bread he had been eating away into the garbage, he just didn't feel good enough to finish it. He also pulled out enough money he felt to repay for all the damages he had done and a little extra for a security system. He took one last look around the place to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything and then closed the door behind him. He made himself appear small, he didn't want to attract attention to himself as much as he could help it. All he had to do now was find out where he was.

Nightwing looked in every place that he figured Batman would never think to look for Robin, but still came up empty. He felt tired, not the good kind of tired when you've been smashing in faces all night, but that empty tired when you haven't done anything important. He parked the motorcycle inside the cave and removed his helmet, looking the cave. Despite his anger with Bruce right now, he always enjoyed returning to the cave. Just something about it made it feel like home. Of course he would never forget the circus life he once had, but this was the second closest thing too it. He walked over to the Batcomputer and looked to see if any reports came in; nothing. He sighed, perhaps Barbra was right. Perhaps it was time to prepare to look for a body rather than finding him alive. It had been a long time, and most kidnapping cases rarely ended with a happy ending. He heard someone enter the cave and he looked up. Alfred descended the stairs with a dinner tray in hand and a small smile on his face.

"Welcome back, Master Dick," he said placing the tray down and lifting the plate cover, "I've taken the liberty in making your favorite dish for your dinner."

"Thanks Alfred," he said walking over to him, "you seem like you're feeling better." Alfred's smile seemed to drop some.

"It does one good to get rest, however mine was rather...hindered by my mind." Dick nodded in understanding. "I fear that you haven't found anything." Dick nodded again.

"Not a thing, but I did do something that Bruce should have done already. I told Gordon."

"You know Master Bruce will be most upset when he finds out."

"He should have been asking for help months ago Alfred," Dick said, trying not to raise his voice, "you know he should have. He's got so many friends that could have possibly found him the first night and yet he chooses not to use them! I'm sorry Alfred, but we need all the help we can get." Alfred didn't say anything, he always kept things to himself but Dick knew that Alfred agreed with him. They heard someone else come down the stairs and saw Bruce already in costume march down the steps.

"Anything?" he asked Dick.

"Nothing. I checked everywhere I though you wouldn't have already checked, listened for any hints about anything that could have..."

"Rest up and report back here to go check the north side with Batgirl in two hours," he said grabbing a fresh utility belt, "I'm going to go check the south side again; that's where most children end up when they're kidnapped."

"Bruce," Dick said walking toward him, "You and Barbra have checked and rechecked everywhere in Gotham. He's not here. If he's alive, he's probably not even in the country anymore." Batman glared over at him.

"Our best bet is to find out when and where he went missing, and there is always someone who talks."

"Bruce," Dick said finally reaching his limit on patients, "even you have to admit it's getting pretty hopeless we'll find him alive. If you didn't have such a damn ego, you would have called for help earlier! What ever has happened to Tim," he said finally losing his temper, "is completely your fault!" Batman slowly looked at Dick, and for the first time in his life, Dick was slightly afraid of him and instinctively took a fighting pose. Alfred quietly cleared his throat to gain their attention.

"It seems that the sensors have picked up that the Batsignal has been turned on," he said in his gentle commanding tone, "perhaps you should see what the Commissioner needs of you." Batman didn't react at first, but then walked over to the Batmobile and jumped inside.

"We'll discus this later." he said coldly to Dick. The car roared to life and sped out of the cave. Dick sighed and turned to face Alfred and for the first time he saw true anger in his face.

"I know we're all on edge Master Dick, but Master Bruce is teetering on the edge and I sincerely hope you just didn't push him off of it."

"You're taking his side," he asked in surprise, "really Alfred!? You of all people should know what he's done is all kinds of wrong! He took someone who wasn't ready out into the field and now look what's happened! Am I the only one who see's him for what he really is? Am I the only one who has the guts to tell him that he's wrong?"

"Master Dick..."

"No Alfred," Dick said, his anger finally released, "it's time to call him out on it. He's had his way for far too long. He's been enabled to do as he pleases!"

"Sir..."

"And you're just as much to blame for letting him do it in the first place!" Dick paused, then started to curse himself. He looked at Alfred and saw that he did hurt him.

"Alfred," he said quietly, "I...I really didn't mean that." Alfred straitened up, knowing his pride had been wounded but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"No, Master Dick," he said proudly, "you meant every word. Do you think I don't question it myself," he said looking hard at him, "do you think I don't loose sleep at night, worrying about all of you, wondering if this is the night that you don't come home and I read about you in the morning papers? That I don't think about what I have done?" He looked away. "I have quietly wondered to myself all these years, wondering if I had done the right thing in letting Bruce become what he is today. So Master Dick," he said looking back at him, "you are right. In the end, it truly is my fault in the first place in allowing Master Bruce in becoming what he is, it's my fault that Tim is missing right now."

"Alfred..."

"Now if you'll excuse me," he said turning away, "I have my duties to attend to." He walked away, head held high and proud; only masking the pain that he felt. Dick watched him leave the cave and he sat down on the computer chair and held his head. He felt so stupid right now. He never meant to hurt Alfred. He sighed and looked back at the dinner that had been prepared for him. He felt so low right now. He quietly started to eat it, hoping to get some rest before Barbra came down to go out again, hoping that he wouldn't snap at her as well...again.

Gordon stood there, patiently waiting. He would wait all night if he had to, but he was going to talk to him. He looked at his watch, the signal had been on for nearly two hours. He looked back at the sky. He soon saw him, swinging toward him. Batman landed quietly like a cat, and walked over to him, from the way he walked and carried himself he seemed...agitated that he had been called.

"What is it Jim?" Batman coldly asked.

"It's about time you showed up," Jim said just as cold, "this is the first time in two months." Batman scowled at him and started to turn away.

"I know about Robin," Jim said, making Batman freeze, "Nightwing told me earlier today." Batman didn't move or say anything.

"Listen," Gordon said, his voice melting from the cold hard talk to a understanding tone, "you and the others have done so much for this city and I could never imagine what I would do if my Barbra was gone that long. I was going out of my mind when Freeze took her, but that was only a few days. I can't imagine how you feel right now, but as your friend, let me help you. I owe you that much at least." Jim looked at him, his back was still turned toward him so he continued on,

"I've sent my best detectives on the case," he said "and I gave them strict orders on not to say anything to anyone and they are to report to me as soon as they find anything out of the ordinary. They're following up on an earlier case right now, but as soon as they're done with that, their only job is to help find Robin. I'll do my part as well. I'll pull favors if I have too; we'll do our best to find him." Batman didn't move for the longest time, he almost looked like a statue. Finally Batman pulled out a grapnel and fired it at the nearest building; swinging away. Jim sighed; Batman and his teammates were like family to him. He was always concerned when Nightwing was Robin and was just as concerned when this spunky Robin came around. If it were his son, he probably would have never allowed him to do it.

"How is she adjusting?" Montoya asked Mr. Fields about his daughter, writing down notes.

"She seems to be doing well," Mr. Fields said holding his wife's hands in his, "she acts like nothing happened."

"Yes," said Mrs. Fields, "the doctor said that there was nothing wrong with Casey physically and doesn't act like anyone molested her, thank God," she said rubbing her forehead, "but he thinks that she's not telling him everything."

"What do you mean?" Montoya asked, writing notes down.

"Well," Mr. Fields said looking at her, "she won't go into details. She said a woman took her and a man watched her, but that's all. She wont say how she got away or how she got clear on the other side of town...It's just strange." Montoya finished writing her notes and looked over at Bullock, he looked barely interested. She wondered how he solved any case.

"Do you mind if I and Detective Bullock ask your daughter a few questions?"

"If it you can find out who took her," Mrs. Fields said, "I just can't sleep at night knowing her kidnappers are still out there. What if they tried again?"

"I understand your concern Mr. and Mrs. Fields," Montoya said while standing up, "but we need to find out anything we can about it." They nodded in agreement.

"She's up in her room, second door to your right." said Mr. Fields. Montoya started to walk toward the stairway with Bullock close behind. Montoya knocked on the door.

"Casey? Are you in there," she asked, "Detective Bullock and I would like to ask you a few questions, can we come in?"

"Yes!" pipped up a small voice inside. Bullock and Montoya entered the pink and white room, toys and stuffed animals strewn about the place. Casey was near one of the corners of the room having a pretend tea party.

"Hello Casey," Montoya said sweetly, "do you know what we are?"

"The police." Casey said looking at them.

"That's right; we need to ask you some more questions about..."

"Here," said Casey giving Montoya and Bullock plastic tea cups and saucers, "we'll have a tea party." Bullock looked at the pink plastic cup,

"There ain't no tea."

"Well, it's pretend tea," Casey said to him, "you have to pretend."

"Yeah Bullock," said Montoya smiling at him, "haven't you ever played tea party?" Bullock glared at her and mumbled to himself:

"I hate working with kids." Montoya took a pretend sip of tea and then said:

"Ok, now Casey, we need to talk about what happened three days ago. When the bad guys took you away."

"Yeah, I was at preschool."

"That's right," said Montoya, "and your teacher said that a woman picked you up; she said that she was your mother's sister. She was a mean liar, wasn't she?"

"Yeah," said Casey, "I was scared."

"Why don't you tell us about her then," said Bullock, "and about where she took you?"

"Because I said I wouldn't." Casey said. Bullock and Montoya glanced quickly at each other.

"Who did you promise that too, sweetie?" asked Montoya.

"Somebody." said Casey, looking away.

"Was it somebody nice?" asked Montoya.

"Yeah, he carried me on his back."

"Can you tell us more kid," asked Bullock, "how he looked, what he wore?" Casey shook her head.

"I said I wouldn't say." Montoya thought of another tactic to maker her say something.

"Was it fun when he carried you?"

"Yeah," she said, "it was fun walking in the woods. I splashed in the puddles. I wished we didn't walk for so long though; I got tired and my feet hurt after that."

"How long did you walk for?" Montoya asked, having a good idea what she was talking about.

"I don't know," she said, "a long time."

"One last question," Montoya said leaning in close, "and it's really important that you're honest with me." Casey nodded.

"Did the bad man and lady look like clowns?" Casey was quiet, but nodded.

"You did a very good job," Montoya said, reaching into her pocket and pulled out her notebook to write everything down, "you're a very brave little girl." Casey smiled at her.

"Come on Bullock," she said, "I have a good idea where they took her."

"So do I," said Bullock, "I can put two and two together too, you know. And I've been doing this longer than you have." Montoya and Bullock descended the stairs and went back to Mr. and Mrs. Fields.

"We have a pretty good idea where she's been and who took her," said Montoya, "we'll let you know more when it becomes available." Bullock and Montoya entered their squad car; Montoya picked up the scanner.

"Commissioner Gordon? Montoya here." There was static for a second then a scratchy voice.

"What is it Montoya, have you gotten any further in that kidnapping case?"

"Yes sir," she said, "we think we know who took her and where."

"Great, come back to my office so I can assign another team to apprehend them. I want you with me to work the Robin case." Bullock took the scanner from Montoya.

"It ain't that easy Commish," he said, "we think it was the Joker and his henchwench that took her, and we think they kept her at the old Arkam building. It makes sense because the road where she was found leads up there." There was a pause.

"Commish?"

"I don't want you two to go it alone, let me call in some help. Wait ten minutes and then start heading toward there, but if you two go in there and they are there so help me you're badges will be on my desk before the night's through."

"Copy that." Montoya said taking back the scanner.

It had taken some time, but he finally was in familiar territory. J.J. had finally found a newsstand that carried a map of Gotham city; he couldn't believe how long it took him to do so. It was getting dark, he wasn't going to make it to the train station tonight. It was still about ten miles away. He looked up at the street signs and then back down to his map, he was near Park Row, more commonly known as Crime Alley. This was one of the worst areas he could be in right now, this was practically Batman's hangout. He had to find some shelter soon, because if Batman saw him walking around the streets after dark, he would swoop down and ask questions that he literally couldn't answer. He looked around and soon found a building that was most likely a drug den, but it was his best bet on short notice. He looked around and saw the fire escape was still intact, but it required him to build a small tower to get to it. He moved some trash cans and built the best tower he could make. After getting a hold of the ladder, he kicked over the trash cans, so it didn't look like someone climbed up like he did. He got to about the third floor when he looked inside.

The building was abandoned, but it looked like nobody had been inside in a long time, at least the third floor. He tried his luck and tried to open the window. Success! He just hoped his luck would carry him out of Gotham at least before it ran out. He crawled inside and closed the window behind him, locking it. The building smelled dusty and like rotting wood. He took a couple of steps inside the abandoned apartment, feeling the floor wanting to give in. Perhaps this wasn't the safest place to say in. He tried to turn on the lights, but the power had been long gone in this place. He tried looking around, hoping the previous owners left a candle or something. No such luck this time. He would have to find a place to sleep in before it got completely dark. He looked around and soon came into a room that looked like it was a baby's room. There were faded cartoon characters on the wall and the only bit of furniture in it was a old crib.

'This will have to do." he thought. He lowered the cribs side and flipped over the mattress so it wouldn't be so dusty. The window of the room was a perfect spot to look out for Batman or cops, just as long as he stayed away from it, he should be fine. He put his things inside of the crib and decided while he had some light he would explore the house. He looked inside the kitchen, it was bare. He looked at the old living room...there was a large hole inside of it. He crept carefully to it and looked down. It reached all the way to the first floor.

'Nasty fall,' he thought, 'better stay away from here.' He then found the bathroom. He tried turning the faucet to see if there was any water in this old dump. There was, but it wasn't preferable to drink. The water was rusty and smelled odd. He looked around and found a towel. He took off his mask, hat and outer clothes and decided to wash up. He put the towel under the water and rung it out as best as he could and started to rub the makeup off. The water smelled worse up close and the towel was itchy, but it did the job well enough to get the just as itchy makeup off. How could girls ware this stuff all day and every day? He looked into the broken mirror to make sure he got it all. He looked tired. He sighed and gathered his things; walked back toward the bedroom. He put his clothes by his bag and hopped into the crib. If Dick saw him now, he would never live it down. He made a makeshift pillow out of his clothes and tried to relax. His thoughts were so hard to control anymore, they would jump around and come up with their own ideas. He tried thinking on where he should go to. Perhaps somewhere quiet and with a small population. Maybe like Smallville Kansas. Nothing seemed to happen there...except tornadoes, yuck never mind. He felt a pain in his stomach; he had forgotten to eat after leaving the bakery and he had only eaten six bites of bread. It was fine though, he seemed familiar with the pain now and soon it would go away and bother him later. He sat up, his head was running too fast for him to relax, so he looked inside his bag.

There was plenty of money still for him to get a train ticket of his choice. He would use the money until it ran out...then what? Maybe get a job of some sort? He couldn't go back to school looking like this. Thinking about that was a headache in itself so he put the bag under his clothes and tried to think of something else. He tried thinking of something good, something positive. He tried to remember a happy memory from the past. He recalled one of the only times he and his dad, his real dad were happy together. His dad had taken him to the park to eat a ice-cream cone. Not to the docks where he would have his 'business meetings', not down in a drug house where he would have to wait on the porch steps till his dad was done shooting up, but the actual park. In the middle of the day. They had a good time just hanging out and talking about the Gotham Knights game. He remembered that they laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed...no wait, that's not how it went. He opened his eyes and looked around, everybody was pointing and laughing at him.

Everybody in the park was pointing down at him and were laughing, he turned to his dad and he was laughing too. Their faces were twisted in horrible humor, looking down at him with contempt and they just kept laughing. He tried running away, but the laughter followed him where ever he went. People in the streets pointed and laughed as he ran by. He ran so fast that he tripped on something, and it made them wail all the louder. He got back up and kept running, covering his ears and closing his eyes, trying to block it out. He ran into something and fell down. He looked up and there they were; Nightwing, Batgirl and Batman all standing around him and laughing.

"Stop it!" he yelled out at them. Nightwing only folded his arms and laughed harder, Batgirl pointed and laughed too. Batman, he leaned in closer and said:

"It's funny because you're a joke."

"I'm not a joke," he cried out, "I tired my best Bruce, I really did." Batman laughed loud and hard.

"Stop!" he said grabbing his head in agony, "stop it, please! I did my best! I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry!" They just kept laughing and laughing. Soon he was laughing too, he laughed and laughed along with them, he looked up at them, seeing them Jokerfied as well and he laughed at that. He turned and ran away, laughing all the while. He ran blindly in the dark, stumbling over invisible objects. All he could see was people laughing at him and all he could hear was that laughter, until he heard the horn. He turned and saw two bright lights coming toward him. Instinct kicked in and he tried to dodge the lights, but he felt himself get clipped by something big and metal. He rolled for a moment and he was suddenly back into reality. He wasn't in the room anymore, he didn't even know where he was. All he knew was that he was in the middle of the road somewhere and that apparently he just got clipped by a car. He ran to the nearest alley way he could see and ducked into a wooden crate, hoping that whoever was in the car didn't see him. He heard the driver open the door. Damn it...damn, damn, damn! He tried to not move or breath. He saw a flashlight beam. Oh damn, damn, damn! Then he herd it, the one voice he really didn't want to hear at all.

"Good lord," said Alfred in a panic, "are you all right? I didn't see you, you just darted into the road and..."

The beam of light blinded him. There was no hiding from it. No more hiding from everyone. He lowered his hands to look at a very shocked butler.

Thanks again for taking a look! I would really appreciate any reviews! Until next time!