Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! To celebrate, let's kick off this baby I've been working on for the past year. To those who've been following along with the series – as well as to any new readers – this is the story of how Tim Drake met and fell in love with his wife Stephanie Brown in the DCAU/BTAS-verse, after the events of RotJ. It does not adhere to the mainstream comics canon, although there will be references to the DC universe as a whole. (Please bear in mind that I'm still pretty new to this fandom, so apologies if I make any mistakes. ^^; )

This story will be told anachronologically, covering all the way up through Batman Beyond. And, "spoiler" alert: There will be a happy ending. ...Just gonna take a while to get there. =P

Tell her a story
Tell her the honest truth
You treat her better
Make sure to see it through

-Echosmith, "Tell Her You Love Her"

"We need to talk."

Dear Diary, a bit of dating advice: Words like those are usually meant to be said by a girl right before she breaks up with a guy. Not by said guy when he's just snuck into the girl's room and suddenly switched on the lights while she's getting changed.

Stephanie Brown whirled around to confront the intruder, none other than Tim Drake, her currently very-angry-looking boyfriend.

…I mean, it makes things super-awkward for both parties.

"Tim? What the hell, you scared the bajeezus out of me. What are you doing in my dorm? How'd you even get in here?"

"That's not important."

"Not important" my ass. You're just digging yourself deeper, mister.

"And why were the lights off? Were you just waiting here in the dark like some creepazoid stalker?"

"Would you have come in through the window dressed like that if the lights were on?"

Stephanie looked down at her hooded cloak and sleek eggplant bodysuit, accented by a black utility belt, gloves, and boots. Not a bad design job, if she did say so herself. Perhaps it wasn't the sexiest superhero uniform on the planet, but served function in its simplicity, shrouding any individual aspects. (Or so she'd hoped.) Despite the somewhat crude shabbiness of the final product, she took particular pride in having sewn it together herself. …Still, it wasn't something she was eager to share with others she knew – especially the one irately interrogating right now.

Okay, so maybe the more pressing part of this situation is the whole "exposing one's secret identity" thing he's flipping out over. …Basically, I'm the one who's screwed.

"Well, no... Wait a minute, where's Cass?"

She glanced around for signs of her roommate, purposefully evading Tim's eye.

"She's out with Conner. They're at the library studying for midterms, which is where you said you'd be when I called earlier."

Great. He's definitely onto you, girl.

"Now enough dodging. You're the one on the news going around calling herself 'Spoiler', aren't you?"

Yup. Busted.

Steph fumbled with the mask's fabric in her hands.

"You mean the cool and mysterious new butt-kicking crimefighter in Gotham who helped take down Cluemaster?"

Real nice save there.

"Stop avoiding the question, damnit. Answer me."

"…Would it make any difference if I say 'no'?"

C'mon, you caught me purple-handed already. What more do you want me to say?

He frowned in frustration. "Quit playing games with me, Steph. I read your diary. How could you lie to me like this?"

Oh no he didn't just admit to snooping and try to turn it on you. That's like, rule number one of "how not to be a jerk in a relationship".

"Me? You're the one going around invading other people's privacy." Steph snapped back, indignant. "I can't believe you'd read my freakin' diary. You can't use that as evidence against me."

"Explain the costume then."

"Um… Practicing for Halloween?"

Smooth move, Steph.

His face hardened. "That's months away. Besides, you know I hate Halloween. Jokerz just use it as an excuse to run around causing more chaos, and meanwhile you've got kids roaming the street dressed up like the goddamn Batman… It's fucking ridiculous."

Here we go.

There it was. That all-too-touchy subject, the real reason she'd been keeping it confidential from him. From the way he always reacted whenever the caped crusader was brought up, he was the last person she wanted to find out about her own attempt at "vigilantism".

"Why? Why do you despise Batman so much?"

He hesitated, shoving his hands in his jacket as his vision narrowed, slanting aside.

"…I don't despise him. I despise what he's done to others – and to himself."

"You sound as if you know him."

He kept quiet, averting his gaze.

"Tim, if there's something you're not telling me, I think now's the time to come forward. I get it, there are things you don't want to talk about. Things that made you the way you… 'are'. I've been patient, figuring you'd open up about it on your own time, whenever you felt comfortable. I've never pressured or pried, letting you do things at your pace. …But when I look at you with Cass and Conner, it's like you're in some other world I'm not a part of. It's painful, you know? Feeling like I'm the odd one out all the time, like you're always keeping me at arm's length for some reason."

She inhaled quickly, before carrying on with her rant.

"I've been straight with you about everything else. You know about my dad, what he's done – why I'm doing this. …It's not fair though. Even though we've been seeing each other for a while, I still hardly know anything about you, and yet you seem to know everything about me. Hell, sometimes it's scary how much about me you do know."

Glaring at the open notebook on her desk, she crossed her arms accusingly.

"…Maybe it's because you've been spying on me or whatever. I honestly don't mind sharing personal information – because that's what people do when they're intimate to get to know one another better – but it has to go both ways. Communication is a two-way street you know. I need some assurance. At this point, if we can't even trust each other… I don't think we can keep this up between us. Whatever 'this' is."

That got his attention. He turned towards her, expression clouded thick with conflict.

"If I tell you, will you promise to put a stop to this 'Spoiler' nonsense?"

"Why don't you let me know exactly what it is you've been keeping from me first."

He swallowed and clenched his fist, closing his grasp on a hard metal object, steeling his own resolve before slowly pulling it out. He'd come prepared for this, but his palm was still shaking as it opened to reveal a black boomerang, shaped like a bat. While the bold insignia practically confirmed one of her suspicions, Stephanie couldn't help but snark:

"So is that a Batarang in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Crap. I just said that aloud didn't I.

"I'm being serious here."

"Sorry. Go on."

Tim took a deep breath. "Do you remember the Batman used to have a kid sidekick?"

"His name was Robin, right? …That was you, wasn't it?"

He nodded.

"But… That's so amazing." Her tone hushed, emanating envy and excitement. "You were really part of a legend. Shouldn't you be proud of that?"

Tim clutched the symbol tight, tenor trembling slightly.

"You don't understand. …How could you."

Stephanie softened, extending out to tentatively touch his cheek.

"I'm trying to. But there has to be more to it than that. …Whatever happened between the two of you, you can tell me."

Tim flinched away, already doubting his decision.

"I… can't."

"Tim, you're the one who said we needed to talk. So talk to me. Please."

"No, look- forget it. Coming here was a bad idea. I've said too much already."

"By 'said too much', you mean the fact that this means Batman must be Bruce Wayne?"

He froze, startled by the weight of his own implication sinking in.

"How'd you-"

"Look, I may not be that smart, but contrary to popular belief, I'm not some 'dumb blonde' stereotype." She rolled her irises. "…It doesn't really take a genius to figure it out though."

Tim chewed his lip, only now realizing the corner he'd driven himself into.

"You can't tell anybody."

"I wasn't planning to. …But that still doesn't explain why you're so bitter at him. Unless…" Concern crossed her countenance. "Did Mr. Wayne really do something to you? He didn't abuse you or try anything… 'inappropriate', did he?"

"What- no. God no." He shifted uncomfortably. "…Bruce Wayne is a good man."

"Then what is it you're trying so hard to hide?"

"Nothing. Just… You really shouldn't follow his example. Believe me, it's not worth it."

"What example? Of being a hero? Someone who's dedicated to helping others?"

His grimace grew darker.

"Of putting yourself in constant danger under some dumb delusion of 'justice'. I mean it, don't try to be something you're not. This isn't a game. You're gonna get yourself into trouble."

"I'm a big girl, Tim. I can take care of myself."

"No you can't. You haven't had any training, and even if you did, one mistake can cost you everything."

Steph stared at him, the defeated slump in his shoulders supporting her own worried hunch.

"Does this have something to do with your… 'episodes'?"

He stiffened abruptly.

"Back then, even I noticed the Joker disappeared right around the same time as Robin and Batgirl… There were rumors going around, that they were all connected to some giant conspiracy. A lot of it was crazy conjecture, but… He is related to the reason you quit, isn't he."

She was definitely sharper than her appearance suggested. Tim lowered his head in silence.

"Something happened to you, didn't it? It had to have been something awful, to make you regret it this much."

She was getting close – too close – to the truth, and it terrified Tim. Even though he'd rehearsed this speech many times in his mind, formulating and fabricating, inventing a response to every inevitable inquiry – to actually recite them was a different story. (Not to mention his mind was still a constant minefield to sift through.) While he'd anticipated and arranged for this potential outcome, all his meticulous organization – orchestration – collapsed when it came to presentation. Courage failing, nerves fraying. Just reflecting on that whole experience made him sick to his stomach. His skull throbbed as flashbacks flooded his stream of consciousness in short bursts and pulses, stinging like insect needles. Pieces of events he'd tried so hard to erase. He scratched at his skin, recalling the straps and shocks and serums, current combined with venom coursing through his veins. Biting back a scream – or laughter – clawing to the surface.

"It doesn't matter what happened."

He stated flatly, trying to keep his voice level. Neutral. Minimal.

Now who's the one who's deflecting?

"It does matter."

"Look, you don't need to know the details. Just trust me on this, okay? You have no idea what you're getting into."

She stepped forward firmly. The looming advance made him feel more trapped. Hunted. Haunted. Like a deer caught in a car headlamp's beams. Lights. Camera. Chemicals. Action. Probing under fluorescent strobes.

"I won't know unless you tell me."

Despite their difference in stature, he cowered under her insistent hover, the color of his accoster's robes alone bringing back a raw reminder of that… monster's scheme. Plus he couldn't stand that familiar look of curious sympathy she was giving him, like she was trying to coax some wounded animal to accept her care. Instead it triggered his flight instinct. He had to get away.

"Will you just drop it already?"

His thoughts furiously began to race, focused only on escape.

"I just want to help…"

"Then leave me alone, okay?!"

His brain was being too loud, his heartrate beating too fast. Fear pumping in his blood as he backed away – before bolting for the exit.

"Tim, wait!"

She reached out to grab his wrist. It was a risky gesture, as without warning she found herself immediately spun around and slammed harshly against the wall, arm wrenched behind her back. There was a brief pause – before a low hiss whispered in her ear:

"Answer me honestly: Could you have defended yourself against that?"

She winced as he applied the twist further.

"Tim, let go. You're hurting me."

He loosened his grip a little, but asked again. Calmer, though still cold as ice.

"Could you?"

…Okay, fine, we'll play it your way. You want to dance, let's dance.

"Watch me."

She swung her left leg back in a sweeping strike to offset his balance, simultaneously elbowing him in the gut with her free limb. Following the kick, she pivoted and punched, managing to land a combo hook on his chin. Neither blows were strong enough to do much damage, but he stumbled, clearly taken aback by the target's fierce reflexes. Seizing the opportunity, she tucked and launched into a tackle, tripping and rolling together across the floor in a violet, violent blur. She wasn't operating on any real sense of skill or judgment, just momentum and adrenaline rush, taking advantage of whatever opening she could to get a hit in. Respiring rapidly in a blind rage. For her opponent as well, his movements seemed clumsy and uncertain (even compared to the couple drunken street thugs she'd managed to successfully take down tonight), relying more on muscle memory than anything. But while she'd caught him by surprise, he was still more than a match at this stage. (He was trained by the best, after all – even if years of atrophy had taken their toll.) Before she could even comprehend what was happening, he had disentangled and dominated again, straddling her pinned waist.

You know, a "normal" couple might find this position kinky.

…Except this time, there was a Batarang tip pointed directly at her, threatening her throat.

"Tim…?"

The atmosphere around them chilled. She didn't dare budge, tensely sucking in her chest as the edge of the blade inched nearer to her neck, almost cutting as it traced her clavicle. She frantically tried to signal distress, blinking a tacit SOS. Myopic Mayday. But the mute message was lost, drowned in those dead, empty pools – swimming within a murky mist. Black holes engulfed in lack of logic or light; perception muddled by a static screen, muffled filter. Like projecting an old movie film, a dazed trance. As if her existence – let alone safety – reality – didn't even register.

…What was more disconcerting though, was the curved contrast of his mouth beneath the shade. A crescent sliver, displaying a disturbing gleam of Cheshire teeth – stark white and sinister.

Is he… smiling?

Surely it was a trick of the ambience. A fleeting tug, a temporary twitch. Though the spasm passed within a second, the weapon stayed put. Ages ticked by, and her torso became numb, practically vegetating into a hollow trunk. She didn't complain or utter protest, barely bothering to gulp back saliva gathering around her sandpaper tongue.

After an eternity, his distant, dilated pupils locked onto hers, and there was a momentary flicker of recognition – remorse – in them. The haze lifted as he instantly released his chokehold, dismounting.

"…Sorry."

He muttered, refusing to meet her regard.

"I shouldn't have been so rough. But do you get it now?"

Steph was still too stunned to say anything, for once at a loss for words. Mental processing a sheer blank.

"I don't want to see you wearing that outfit again."

The declaration hung heavy in the air as he stalked out the door, shutting it forcefully behind him.

Stephanie eased in relief and sat up, rotating her cuff's sore socket and rubbing her ribs where he'd knocked the wind out of her. As she relaxed, her internal monologue gears revolved again.

Ow. Guess he wasn't the Boy Wonder for nothing.

The physical ache couldn't compete with what was brewing inside though. A mixture of dread and confusion and emotion swirling anxiously like a storm in her abdomen. It was obvious he hadn't been holding back, but was it really just to teach her a lesson? There didn't seem to be any intentional malice behind it (not like the way her dad used to "punish" her and mom at least). ...Rather, from the way he fought initially, it was as if he was acting out of pure panic and desperation. Like his life depended on it.

…But then, there was that eerie grin. Had she just imagined it?

It's not the first time she's seen him like this. In addition to the jumpiness and spacing out (not to mention sullen aggression), she'd witnessed his prowess in combat before, back when she wasn't even aware of his previous persona. She'd been impressed by it, but also a bit intimidated. …He almost lost control then too.

Balling her knuckles on her knees, her concentration fell upon the discarded cloth on the ground. Picking it up, she stretched it over her hair and features to obscure them, and determinedly drew up her cowl.

Sorry, Tim, but I can't just leave this alone.

She cast out the window, surveying the moon against the red horizon. Even at this late hour, the sky seemed in eternal dusk (due to all the pollution, she thought dryly). Opening to the evening breeze, she sighed at the sight of the drop. Climbing up was one thing, but getting down was a lot more difficult.

Maybe I should have a chat with Res Life about changing to a lower level.

Suppressing vertigo, she ignored the vacillating view and started to scale the side of the building. …Unfortunately, just as she approached the base, her toes lost traction on the last brick, tumbling rather ungracefully into the bushes.

"Damn gravity."

She murmured, massaging her bruised bottom.

Definitely gotta work on that landing.

Hastily scrambling to her feet, she double-checked to make sure no one else was around (to witness the embarrassment of such a miserable acrobatic performance), before darting across campus. Slipping through the shadows, she shimmied over the university gate and took off towards the city.

Tomorrow's test would have to wait. Tonight she had another mission: Score a date with the dark knight, and convince him to spill – for Tim's sake. (…At least, that's how she tried to assure herself she was doing the right thing.)

How hard could it be?

But don't you run away run away
When you get tired
'Cause this will slip away slip away
And start a fire

Cassandra's and Conner's presences will be explained, in time... Next up: Tim's and Steph's first meeting.