"And how long do you expect to keep your dual identity from her?" Damian demands of me as I swab the floor in front of me with an adhesive. "You don't plan on her joining us, do you?"

"You've been Robin all of two minutes and already can't let it go," I tease. I drop the adhesive into a bag and place it back in Bruce's belt. I mean my. My belt. "Did you check the upper walls?"

"Of course I did. No sign of adhesives." Though I want to trust his judgement, he has only been Robin for two minutes. I give the wall a once over and point out the steam marks he'd missed, which he waves off. "As if she could be a better Robin than I. I'm not threatened."

"Then stop acting like it. I have no intention of bringing her into this." I swab the steam marks before giving the room one more thorough once-over.

"She'll figure it out," he argues.

"She stayed with me for a month and a half and didn't find out that I was Nightwing. Let's go." He follows me out the window, and for a few blissful moments, there's only the sound of the wind rushing around me.

Then we land on a roof, and his mouth immediately opens again. "She's not an idiot, Batman." I hear the underlying contempt at the title. "Don't you think she'll notice Father's replacement? How will you explain that?"

"I don't know."

"What about her? What do you know about her? Can we actually trust her?" His questions start coming out faster.

"Look, Robin," I intervene before he can really get going. "I don't know how I'll handle all that. All I know is she's been living with me for almost two months and I love this kid. She'll understand when she finds out. I know she hides a lot but I trust her anyway."

"That makes you a fool."

I glare at him through Bruce's intimidating mask. "We had different ways of trusting people, but that doesn't make me stupid." I turn away from Damian. "And there's only one person who's ever betrayed my trust."

Damian catches my meaning, though I wished we didn't have to go here. "Father?"

Rather than answer, I swing up my grappling hook and leap from the building. We'd been here too long anyway. He follows but doesn't drop the topic. As soon as we land again, he starts back up. "You didn't trust him?"

"With my life, sure," I respond impassively, scanning the area with binoculars to avoid looking at him. "With my ideals, no. He kept things from me, didn't trust me with the basics." I sigh at my caustic tone. "It doesn't matter anymore."

We leap buildings again.

"But what of this girl? You trust her with your life and your… ideals?" He says the word experimentally, like he isn't quite sure how he should treat it. I know he's always trying to prove himself, especially to Bruce. But with me… he's not. He's trying to… accommodate me, almost. Whatever his intentions, I appreciate the effort.

"Yeah," I respond.

"How?" The tone of his voice has changed; less demanding, more bewildered.

"The League taught you that trust meant fear, respect and whole-hearted devotion. But that's servitude. Trust is more… Putting faith in someone to have your back, keep your secrets. But just like you can trust them to keep your secrets, you can also trust them to keep their own. I know she's hiding her past from me, but there's no issue of trust here. I trust her, and she trusts me.

"So why haven't I told her about my night life? For one, she might want to join, like you said. I may, in part, be keeping her safe. For another, she doesn't need know yet. If she felt like she needed to find out where I go, she'd follow me." I fix Damian's confused expression with a stare. "Do you understand?"

He works his jaw and scuffs his boot on the roof. "I think so. If she trusts you enough to accept the lies about your night activities, you trust her enough to accept her unknown past."

I nod, turning back to the edge of the roof.

"But how," he stresses before we move on. "I don't understand how."

I shrug. "It happens. You can't try to trust someone. If you're trying, there's a reason you can't. It just happens." I look back at him again, a faint smile pulling at the mask of Batman. "I trust you."

He scoffs, his open expression hardening. "You shouldn't."

"And that's exactly why I do." I don't ask to hear his declaration of trust, and he doesn't offer one. That's just the type of relationship we'd developed.

We continue patrol, preventing and investigating crimes. So much like when I'd last stationed here, yet so different. Robin is Batman and Batman's son is Robin. A sudden rush of emotions crashes over me as it finally, finally sinks in.

It didn't sink in when I came to Gotham and saw Bruce's body laid out in the BatCave. It didn't sink in when the DNA results came back positively identifying it as his. Not when we incinerated him, when I read his will, when we set up the memorial suit in both the Cave and the Watchtower.

It's Bruce. He wasn't just a person. He was a symbol. Intimidating, unstoppable, invulnerable. And he isn't coming back. He can't.

I'm Batman. Because Batman is dead.

He's dead. This is stupid. He's dead.

The words cycle through my head though I pay them no attention. The knife in my hand continues to tear at the expensive carpet, jagged and uneven. Dust and fibers swirl with the wind made from my movements, kicking up into my eyes.

I'll look a mess to Alfred and Damian. Luckily, they're both out. Damian with the Teen Titans and Alfred running errands. Dani had yet to show her face. Alfred said she'd stayed up until almost three in the morning playing video games, so I guess I shouldn't expect her until noon. It'd only been about four days since she'd come here, and she was still trying to adjust to the manor and a regular sleep schedule.

I shuffle forward and yank the knife through the next part of the carpet. Why are these hallways so long?

My hands are starting to hurt with the force I'm gripping the knife, but I can't stop. I'm so stupid. Perfect DNA match. No one can fake that. What do I think I'll find?

"Here."

My hand stills, though my heart is pounding and my breath is coming out ragged. I tilt my head up to Dani, who's standing over the cuts in the carpet, offering a huge pair of tree-cutters. In her other hand is a bottle of water. I don't understand the expression on her face- it's soft and almost impassive, though there's a kind half-smile on her lips.

I drop the knife and lean back against the wall, accepting the water. Sighing heavily, I twist the cap off the bottle and take a drink. When I lower it, Dani's leaning her elbow on the clippers with a tilted head, silently questioning my actions.

Rubbing the lid of the water bottle between my fingers, I reply to her unasked question, "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing."

She looks up the hallway. "It looks like you're cutting carpet." Hefting the clippers, she shoves the blades where I'd left off and slice down. She glances back at me, noticing my furrowed eyebrows. "What?"

"I'm okay now," I reply, even though I still feel awful. At least okay enough to stop tearing at the carpet with a hunting knife. "You don't have to help me desecrate the carpet."

"Why were you?"

I shake my head, still toying with the cap. "I don't know."

"Then let's keep going until we find out." She pries apart the tool and begins cutting again. This time, I stand up, placing the now-empty bottle in a nearby trash dispenser before going to retrieve my own pair of heavy-duty clippers.

After cutting the entire length of the hallway, we slit the sides and roll the carpet to the opposite wall. I scan the entire length of the floor but find nothing. Dani frowns when I shake my head but lifts the clippers onto her shoulders and walks to the next hallway.

She turns to me when I don't immediately follow. "Come on."

"We can't just rip up all the carpet," I protest.

"Why not? We ripped up this one, and we haven't found what you're looking for. Go big or go home, Dick."

She turns away and heads to the next hallway.

I caved. Here's one more.