Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Working as Dick Grayson’s personal assistant, was somehow the most anticlimactic and bizarre thing that had ever happened in her life.

Mainly, because she had only seen the man a handful of times at best. Let’s backtrack a little, shall we?

When she had applied for the job, she had been utterly and completely desperate to get out of London. She would have done anything, taken any kind of job - hell, even being a supervillain had been on the table - so long as she could leave the city and her old life behind. For months she had scoured every job ad, every slim possibility of taking off that she could find; and she had done it all alone. Every time she tried to tell her parents and friends that she had been “encouraged” to quit her job, she felt the bile rising and she couldn’t get the words out. No, they could never know.

When she’d stumbled upon the ad, she’d been shocked, to say the least. It was on one of the worst websites for job searching - it probably hadn’t been updated since 2012 and was in dire need of a major makeover, as well as some bug fixing. But the ad was there, triumphant and gleaming, immediately standing out from the others.

Personal Assistant for Manager at Wayne Entreprises. The salary was outrageous, healthcare was included and paid in full, and the company even paid for the monthly rent. It seemed Bruce Wayne really knew how to take care of his employees.

It felt like a miracle, a sign of the universe that she was on the right track. Not only that, but it was in Gotham City, on the other side of the Atlantic and far away from the big mess that had become her life. It was perfect

She had sent in her resume within ten minutes of finding the ad, terrified that it would be gone before she could click “send”.

And then she had waited for a full week, nervous and desperate, praying to all and any gods that she would get it. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, ran around her apartment like a mad woman, and bit her nails until they bled. It had been 3 months since everything had happened, and she wouldn’t be able to cover everything up much longer.

On the eighth day, she decided she finally had enough. She pulled up the ad on her laptop, took a deep breath, and called the number that was listed.

The call only rang a couple of times before the person on the other line picked up, and she was surprised to hear an old, sweet British man reply. His name was Mr. Pennyworth, and he was the Wayne family’s personal butler, but he was in charge of finding someone to fill in the position. She had only been momentarily mortified that she’d bothered someone so high up, but that embarrassment had quickly been replaced by her determination to get the job.

Mr. Pennyworth instantly knew who she was. “Yes, Miss, I have indeed received your resume. It’s quite impressive, definitely the most qualified of the ones we received.”

“Really? Am I up for consideration then? For the position, I mean.”

“Miss,” Mr. Pennyworth had sounded apathetic, sorry even. “You’re probably our best candidate, but…”

“But?”

“You’re just… I fear you may be a little overqualified for this position, Miss.”

His words had stopped her dead in her tracks. Her voice was shaking when she finally managed to speak again. “Overqualified?”

“Miss, you have a Phd in Quantum physics, and you were a researcher at Oxford University up until recently… to be completely honest, I thought you sent us your resume by mistake when I received it.”

She could feel the anxiety rising. “Listen, I know this isn’t exactly my field but I am a fast learner and I am determined, and I can put my mind to anything, and really I-”

“You would be Mr. Grayson’s personal assistant, Miss. I’m just… I’m not entirely sure a person of your knowledge and studies would be right for this position.”

That was the last straw; as soon as the words left his mouth, she burst into tears and bawled her eyes out. She had proceeded to sob for the following ten minutes, babbling about how she had to leave and she would do anything and work any job, while poor Mr. Pennyworth tried to console the young woman.

No, it wasn’t her proudest moment. Not by far. But whatever she had said in her distraught state had worked, because Mr. Pennyworth had taken enough pity on her to offer her the spot.

She had agreed to be in Gotham City to start in two weeks and had gone to buy moving boxes as soon as the call ended. She spent the day packing, booked a one-way plane ticket, and then remembered she probably should have warned her parents.

That call was… less than fun. They were understandingly worried that their 26-year-old daughter had decided to quit her high-profile job at Oxford University and move across the Atlantic for no apparent reason. She had tried to tell them the truth a handful of times, but had eventually settled upon “I need a change of scenery and some time to clear up my mind”.

Her best friends, Cora and Ember, had also been worried and concerned, but had been nonetheless very supportive and had promised to visit soon.

And so that had been that.

Three days later, she was on a flight headed for Gotham City, full of hope and relief. She used the remaining ten days to find a quaint little apartment in the city center, close to the main headquarters of Wayne Entreprises, where she would be working.

When the first day of work arrived, she wore her nicest pantsuit and floral-printed blouse and headed out early. She stood outside the imposing building for a long time, looking up and admiring the modern glass empire. The W from the logo shone brightly in the early morning sun, and the streets buzzed with excitement as people walked in and out.

She breathed in. Then out. Then in and out again. This was a new beginning, one that was supposed to change her life around. There was no going back now. This would work, no matter what. She was confident and ready.

She walked into the building confidently, a serene smile on her face.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

That smile and confidence vanished almost as soon as they appeared.

When she reached the floor where she would be working and was brought to her desk - right in front of Mr. Grayson’s office - she found a cardboard box on it, and a pretty red-haired girl bawling her eyes out as she filled it with her stuff. She looked up at her and her eyes instantly filled with anger. “So you’re the bitch they’re replacing me with then, huh?”

She had been, to say the least, flabbergasted, and had been unable to do anything except widen her eyes in shock.

The red-haired kept throwing her belongings in the box rather violently, babbling angrily. “You have no idea what you’re in for. The asshole is never here. It’s a fucking fake job. A dummy job. Like you see in the movies. He shows up once a month, you give him contracts to sign, and he’s fucking gone. He’s like a vampire.” She picked up the box and purposefully bumped into her on the way out. “Have fun doing shit nothing all day long. I lasted six months, maybe you’ll last longer.”

The whole office watched in horror as she strode out, red hair swinging back and forth with tears on her face. Then all heads turned to her, the newcomer, the usurper, still rooted into place. Her mouth was still gaping, trying to piece together the information that had just been thrown at her.

It took her multiple minutes to gather her senses and sit at her desk, eyes glaring at her from all over the office. She placed her purse on the floor, wishing she could bury herself into the depths of the earth and never come out again.

Everyone finally went back to work when a woman with a cheery disposition walked out of the elevator, entirely oblivious to what had just happened, and walked straight to her.

Her name was Jessica Hallard, and she was the manager of the unit. She quickly showed her around and told her what her tasks consisted of. Every morning, contracts would be dropped off on her desk. She had to organize them and prepare them so that Mr. Grayson could sign them when he came into the office - which was relatively rarely, according to her (and the redhead she’d apparently stolen the job of). The rest was up to Mr. Grayson.

She was surprised by the lack of work, and by the simplicity in which Jessica explained these things. She didn’t find it weird that she basically wouldn’t be doing anything all day except sorting contracts. No emails, no phone calls, nothing. Just… contracts.

Yeah, this did feel like a dummy job.

She didn’t dare say anything for a week. Every morning, she walked to her desk while most of the office glared at her (and the rest dutifully ignored her) and gathered the contracts that had piled up. There were normally two or three a day, and once she divided them, she was done for the day. Which was outrageous, truly. She tried helping other people, but they all looked at her reproachfully and declined her offers. She essentially sat at her desk all day, too scared to leave or do anything that could further worsen the office’s general opinion of her, waiting for some kind of miracle to happen.

She often heard the others planning after-work dinners and parties, but she was never invited to any of them. At first, she figured it was because she’d stolen the red-haired girl’s job. But as two weeks passed, she quickly realized that it didn’t matter at all. People hated her just because of the position she occupied, a dummy job for an absent manager, and honestly who could blame them?

At the beginning of her third week, she decided to approach Jessica about it. She was the only one who actually bothered to say hi to her and make some small talk.

When she asked why she was never invited to office outings, Jessica simply laughed.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t take it too personally. It’s just Mr. Grayson’s assistants never last.”

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Well, we all know it’s a cover-up for… whatever it is that you actually do.” Jessica winked, and her cheeks turned bright pink as she realized what she was implying. “You girls never last more than three months. Sarah, the girl before you, was actually an all-time record. Six months!”

“Wait, everyone thinks I’m sleeping with Mr. Grayson? I haven’t even seen the man yet!”

Jessica smirked and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, honey, we all need to do what’s necessary to get to the end of the month. Don’t fret it too much.”

The woman had then left, leaving the girl in a state of utter confusion.

So, not only this was a dummy job, but everybody also thought she was Mr. Grayson’s personal call girl. Ridiculous!

She started having second thoughts about everything. Maybe she shouldn’t have left London. She should have just signed that NDA, and done what they had asked of her. She should have never come. She was going to be laid off in a matter of weeks eventually, she should have known it was too good to be true. She spent the following week questioning every single decision she’d made in her life, wondering how everything had turned out to be such an utter and shitty mess. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been truly happy.

It was during her fourth week that she finally saw Dick Grayson for the first time.

The clock had just hit 11:00 AM, and she was trying to busy herself as best she could after finding no contracts on her desk that morning when the man confidently strode in.

There was no denying he was handsome. She had seen an interview he had done for Vogue, and yeah, her boss was a catch. Soon to be 29 years old, young, charismatic, two dimples that girls would kill for… yeah, she understood the appeal alright.

He was wearing a simple shirt and jeans, and a huge smile on his face as he strode between desks and said hi to everyone. Nobody glared at him, because how could they when he was this charming and when his blue eyes were smiling right back at you? He strode right past her desk, giving her a small “good morning”, and headed into his office, closing the door behind him. She had never even known that door was unlocked. Nobody ever went into the room.

She saw Jessica shaking her head at her, urging her to bring the contracts to him. She bolted as soon as she saw the sign, gathering the 18 contracts that had piled up during the past weeks, and softly knocked at his door.

She heard a smooth “Come in!”, and proceeded to walk into the office.

It looked like any ordinary office, albeit perhaps suspiciously tidy due to Mr. Grayson’s constant absence. The man was sitting at the desk, pouring over some documents and seemingly very focused on the task. He didn’t even look up when she walked in, nervously clutching the contracts.

She waited a few beats before finally speaking up. “Mr. Grayson, here are the contracts that-”

“You can leave them on my desk, thank you.”

The words died in her throat. Well. So much for small talk. She thought she’d have to at the very least introduce herself, and explain what had happened to Sarah. But the man seemed absolutely unbothered and uninterested.

She sighed, took a few steps toward the desk to drop off the contracts, and stepped back. His eyes didn’t look up from the documents in his hand, and his face was now pulled into a soft frown.

Oh well. So this was not going the way she’d imagined.

She slowly crept out of the office, mumbling a small “If that’s all” that was met by utter silence, and went back to her desk. She could feel all of the office glaring at her, and it made her want to cry. They probably thought she’d done god knows what in his office, when in reality he most likely didn’t even know her name.

Dick Grayson left a few hours later, while she was on lunch break. She found the pile of contracts on her desk, now signed and ready to be mailed out. The task took her approximately an hour, and then she was back to her usual lack of activity.

At the end of the week, she decided she needed to shed light on this and decided to call Mr. Pennyworth.

“Ah, Miss! Yes, of course, I remember you!” His warm voice had been a source of comfort after a month of being ignored, judged, and glared at. “I was planning on calling you. How has work been?”

“Mr. Pennyworth, I’m going to be straight with you. Is this a dummy job?”

The line had gone silent, and she’d started to worry that she’d officially blown things up when the old man suddenly burst out laughing. He’d continued to laugh and giggle for five minutes, and she hadn’t been able to add anything else. Her mortification only grew the longer he kept laughing.

Eventually, he managed to calm down. “I apologize, it’s just… nobody ever actually outright says it.”

“What?”

“As you can imagine, you’re not the first person we hire for the position. I assume you met Sarah?”

She cringed. Had the old man fired her the same day she’d arrived? For what, chaos? Maybe he wasn’t as sweet and gentle as she thought he was. “Yes…”

“Well, nobody ever has the courage to say it’s a dummy job. We dance around the subject, and then eventually we have to let them go after a few months.”

She felt her stomach hollow out. “Am I being let go soon too, then?”

“No, of course not. You’re the first person I hired because I actually like you. And believe in you. The position is yours as long as you want it. We will not fire you, you have my word.”

The words slightly reassured her, and after a few more minutes of small talk, they finally ended the call.

Well then. She was stuck in a dummy job and everybody at the office thought she was a call girl, but at least she was paid, had a roof over her head, and was far from London. That was at the very least a partial win.

Alfred had assured her she could stay as long as she wanted. As long as she needed to figure things out was the implicit message, and she briefly wondered if he had done some background checks on her. He probably had. He probably knew.

She tried not to think too much about it. This was supposed to be a new beginning. And she was going to make the most of it.

Chapter Text

A year went by, and her determination to make it work paid off.

Her colleagues didn’t like her any better, no matter how much time went by, but that didn’t matter to her. She’d made up her mind. She was staying, she would never go back to how things were before. And so she simply ignored them, willing every muscle in her body not to react when she heard hushed “whore”s and “cunt”s whispered when she walked by.

What did it matter what they thought? At the end of the day, she was still paid and taken care of, had Alfred’s word that she wouldn’t be fired, and wasn’t actually sleeping with her boss.

Jessica was polite and some times made small talk, but only when the rest of the office couldn’t see her. She did come to congratulate her for breaking Sarah’s record when she started her seventh month of work and even brought her a small celebratory cupcake. It was now a tradition; every month, they shared cupcakes and celebrated the fact she had yet to be fired.

Alfred was the only other person that had come close to being her “friend”. The old man was far too busy with his work for the Wayne family, but he took his time to call her every month and to check in on her. They normally spoke for an hour about life and the weather and family - firmly avoiding subjects like her old life and work - and it always made her feel better. Perhaps it was a bit of a stretch to call him her friend, especially given how she had never seen the man in real life and had no clue what he looked like, but he was still one of the only people who seemed to care about her in this new environment.

Her friends Cora and Ember had to come visit once during the month of February. She’d had a hard time hiding her lack of friends and relationships in Gotham but had somehow convinced them of her general happiness.

Was she truly happy? She didn’t know. All her life, she had worked towards her Ph.D., dedicated hours and hours and hours of her life to her studies and her research, only for it to turn out the way it had. She had been utterly gutted at the time; but that frustration and despair had now transformed into a slight buzz of disappointment that tinted her everyday life.

She didn’t mind that she had no clue what she was doing with her life anymore. Maybe she could just work this dummy job forever. Her brain wasn’t doing much work anymore, but at least she was relaxed and taken care of. With all her free time, she had read over 200 books in the past year, completed all of Papa’s games, played an unspeakable amount of chess games, and burned through so many more useless activities. The only thing she’d refused to do was read anything related to quantum physics. It still hurt too much to do so.

As for her boss, the mighty Dick Grayson… well. She had seen exactly twelve times since she’d started, and her interactions were always the same - essentially non-existent.

He would walk in, all smiles and charms, and head to his office. She would gather the contracts, drop them off, and walk out. He would drop everything by her desk while she away. And then she would see him again the following month. She was fairly certain he didn’t even know what her name was, or that his assistant had changed at all. But she didn’t care. He could go off and do lord knew what if it meant she was left alone and in peace the rest of the time.

And so a year went by and she was more or less unbothered and in peace. She was still nowhere close to figuring out what she wanted to do with her life, but at least she was financially secure, and that was all that really mattered.

Things finally changed on a sunny September morning. She walked into the office at 9:00 AM sharp, as usual - she couldn’t give her colleagues any other reasons to dislike her - and sat at her desk as usual. The weather was surprisingly warm, and she had opted to wear a short-sleeved blue floral blouse with lighter suit pants.

She found three contracts waiting for her in front of her computer. She placed her purse on the floor beside her, sat in her chair, and proceeded to skim them so that she could organize them. Most contracts regarded brand sponsorships, special appearances, university requests to collaborate, and sometimes other companies to fund projects together.

The first contract was a sponsorship deal from a famous shoe company, and the second was a request from Gotham University to have Mr. Grayson - a loyal alumni - appear for a small conference in November. Those weren’t unusual; in fact, most of his contracts were boring and dull like this. No wonder he never was in the office if he had to tour the country to fulfill engagements of these sorts.

The third contract was an agreement to fund a project with a well-known food chain. She raised her eyebrows at that. The contract wasn’t weird per se but… something was off. She was having a strange feeling of deja vu. She decided to brush it off, categorizing the contracts in her drawers, where the other 6 contracts waiting to be signed were stored as well, and went back to her routine of doing nothing. Mr. Grayson was expected to drop by next week, and although 9 contracts weren’t many at all, he'd had worst months. In April, she had only received one contract all month, and had felt slightly mortified bringing the lonely sheet of paper to his desk (but she shouldn’t have worried, for he hadn’t even bothered to look in her general direction anyway).

The day went by relatively normally: she finished another book and then headed out to have lunch at 12:00 sharp. Most people ignored her, except one girl named Sally who still couldn’t get over how long she’d lasted and made a point to always glare at her, and she sat alone at her usual lunch table. Nobody ever bothered her, and only Jessica waved small “hello”s from time to time.

And yet, despite the relatively normal day she was having, something felt wrong. It was that contract that kept bugging her. Why did it bother her? It was a contract like any other. Whole Foods was a popular chain, and it wasn’t the first time Wayne Entreprises agreed to endorse biologically produced food. So why couldn’t she get it out of her mind?

After pondering the issue for the entirety of her lunch break, she decided she would take one more look at the contract. Just one last one. Just for good measure. Nothing would probably come out of it, and it’s not like anybody would ever really care, but at the very least she’d have a clean conscience.

She headed back to her desk with more purpose than she’d ever had in this office before and promptly opened up the drawer. She read through the contract once again. Nothing was seemingly out of place, it looked like any other ordinary contract… and yet… Her attention stopped on the address. It was in Gotham. Weren’t Whole Foods’ headquarters located in Texas? Why was the billing address in Gotham?

She quickly typed the address into her computer and landed on a small apartment building in southern Gotham. No, that definitely wasn’t right. She then tried to phone the number, but without success: it didn’t exist.

Well then. That was odd. But why did the contract feel so right?

It took her another hour of fretting and pondering before it finally clicked into her head. The contract felt right because she had seen this contract before. She rushed to one of the office cabinets, where they stored a copy of every contract Mr. Grayson signed. It took her a few minutes of searching, but she eventually found what she was looking for in the April folder. The lone contract she had received back then was an exact copy of this one, save for the address and phone number. A quick search and phone call allowed her to confirm that WholeFoods had indeed sent this contract back in April, and hadn’t resent one now.

So where did this new contract come from?

It was now 4:00 PM, and almost time for her to home. She could technically leave it at that and head back to her small apartment. It wasn’t really any business of hers, was it? She could simply tell Mr. Grayson about the fraud attempt, or in the worst case scenario, shred the fake contract if he refused to listen to her, and that would be that. She was just a glorified secretary after all, why would she worry about this problem that wasn’t hers to begin with?

But then again… she hadn’t done anything significant in over a year. And surely, it wouldn’t kill her to look into this. No, she could do a little more research into this. Just a little. Just enough to satiate her curiosity.

Chapter Text

Richard “Dick” Grayson, despite being chosen as Vogue’s most eligible bachelor of the year and seemingly having everything he wanted, was very very far from having his life together.

In fact, if you asked him, he’d say he had no clue what he was doing. And the worst part was he didn’t know why he was so generally unsatisfied.

He’d turn 30 in December, so he was still relatively young, he had friends who cared about him, a more or less functional family, and his reputation as Nightwing, and yet - something felt wrong.

Something had felt wrong for a long while now. Specifically, since the ninth anniversary of Wally’s death. The anniversary hurt every year, but he hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard after nine years.

He’d called Artemis, thinking they’d go out for drinks as usual. But to his surprise, she had replied that she already had plans with her husband, Jason. And yes, alright, maybe it was unfair of him to expect her to uphold this tradition when she was happily married and her husband was objectively great. But then he’d started suspecting that she’d simply forgotten what day it was and that… that had hurt. More than he was willing to admit. He’d subsequently called Conner and M’gann, then Kaldur and Wynde, even Karen and Tim. But they’d all turned down his offer, and that had confirmed what he already feared. Wally was fading.

Dick wasn’t sure he’d ever really gotten over his death. More than one relationship - including his relationship with Barbara - had gone up in flames because of how out of place he felt. He hadn’t been in a long-term relationship in a long time, and despite how much he hated to admit it, he was starting to feel lonely. And misunderstood. Everybody was moving on, except him, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Those thoughts had been plaguing him for over a year now. Last June, everybody had forgotten the tenth anniversary yet again, and Dick had been unable to explain to Tim why he’d been feeling so down that night on patrol. September had now arrived in Gotham, and he didn’t feel any closer to figuring out how to fix things.

Dick didn’t let any of these thoughts show when he walked into his office at the Wayne Entreprises headquarters. Despite the fact he was virtually never there and didn’t actually do anything for the company, he had to show up once a month to keep up appearances. After all, according to the world, he was just a dumb heir who worked at his adoptive father’s company. He couldn’t disappoint.

When he walked in, he made sure to greet everyone with a big smile and small waves. Nobody ever complained about his absence, and he received quite a few nods and smiles in return. He noticed two young women staring at him and giggling and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

He walked past a young woman sitting at a desk near his office and made sure to greet her as well. He was pretty sure she was the one who usually dropped off his contracts in his office, but he didn’t know anyone in the office well enough to say for certain.

He walked into his “office” and sat down at his desk, taking a second to look around. The room looked so… dead. Anybody who walked in would easily guess he was barely ever in there. It was just too tidy and well put together. His office at the stake-out apartment he and Tim owned was much messier, papers and files crowding the whole place. They hadn’t originally planned to keep the apartment, but after conducting a five-month-long surveillance mission a few years back, they’d come to like the place and had turned it into an office of some sort. Damien and Cassie came to visit sometimes, but otherwise, it was just the two of them investigating and chasing bad guys.

He sighed, grabbing some random document on his desk and skimming it. Some copyright issues with the cable network. He wasn’t aware they were having any issues. Why hadn’t Bruce or Alfred warned him? He would need to talk about this with them.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his train of thought, and he gave a distracted “Come in” as he kept reading the document. Per usual, a young woman walked in holding a pile of contracts he’d need to sign before he left.

He didn’t raise his head, still reading the document with a frown on his face. This was way more serious than he thought it was. Why hadn’t he heard about this?

He was surprised to hear someone clear their throat. Specifically, the young woman still holding the contracts. Someone normally just dropped them off and walked out. Maybe she was new.

“It’s alright, you can drop them off and leave. I’ll take care of the rest.” He waved her off absentmindedly.

“Did you not hear a single word I just said?”

It was the frustration and anger in her tone that caused her to snap his head up and look at her. Her mouth was quivering in annoyance, and she was raising a quizzical brow at him. She looked less than impressed with him, and nobody had looked at him that way in a long time. She was pretty: silky brown hair and matching eyes, with soft features and a slender silhouette. The general kindness she radiated was so different from the irritation painting her features.

“I’m sorry?” He eventually managed to respond, half in a trance.

“I said, there’s something I think you should see and-”

“If this is about the contracts,” He promptly interrupted, “then there is nothing to worry about. They’re all approved by the legal team and only need to be signed.”

“I know that but-”

“You can just drop them off and I’ll take care of it.”

“Yes, but-”

“Are you new? Because normally-”

“I’m trying to tell you that you’re being scammed!” She eventually exclaimed, talking over him and rushing out the words as fast she could. He blinked in surprise at the sudden outburst. Nobody ever bothered him here, most people just ignored him when he showed up. This was probably the longest conversation he’d ever had in this office.

“What?”

“Are you finally going to listen now?” She sighed, shaking her head and taking a paper out of that stack, that she then placed on the desk in front of him. “This contract came in last week. At first, I didn’t think anything of it, but it was bothering me, so I went back to look at it.”

He crouched forward to look at the contract. “This is a Whole Foods partnership. I don’t see the issue.”

“I didn’t either at first, but look at the address.” She bent forward as well, placing a finger on the paper. “It says it’s in Gotham, but the Whole Foods headquarters are in Texas. So then I tried to call the phone number, and I found out it didn’t exist. And that’s when I remembered, this is an exact copy of the contract you signed last April.”

“It is?”

She nodded fiercely. “Yup, it is. So at this point I was confused, so I decided to go check out the address. I just found an old man living there, and he had no clue what I was talking about. Actually, he threatened to shoot me, but that’s another story.” She quickly added when she saw him raising his eyebrows at her. “His name is Edward Jacob, and he swears he has no clue what happened. I believe him, he was nice and he offered me cupcakes to apologize.”

Dick stared at her speaking in trance. Now that she was speaking, there was no stopping her. “Ok?”

“Right, so I thought about this some more, and what confused us both - at least I think it must have confused you as well - is that the fraudulent contract is word for word identical to the one you signed in April. But only this office and Whole Foods have a copy of it. Which means someone either here or there leaked it to somebody else who made the fraudulent copy. Obviously, I couldn’t investigate the issue on Whole Foods’ side, but I could look into our office.”

“You lead an in-office investigation?” Saying he was flabbergasted was an understatement. What in the world was going on? And who was this woman?

“Sort of. At first, I went down to I.T. to see if anybody had accessed the file from their computer, but nothing came up. So then I went to security and looked through the footage. And, sure enough, I saw one of our employees going through the cabinet and taking a copy of the contract.”

“Who?”

“Dylan Crow.” His confused face said it all. He had no clue who this was. “He’s the head of the P.R. department.” She added quickly. “Anyways, so I looked some more into it, and I found out Dylan Crow has a sister, Melania, who works as an at-home nurse for elderly people. And guess whom she takes care of every day from 8:00 to 12:00?”

“Edward Jacob.” He completed while she nodded.

“Bingo. So, yes, all of this to say that I’m fairly certain one of our employees is trying to scam us by sending us fake copies of our previously signed contracts.”

Dick blinked another few times, still looking at her in complete astonishment. She was standing straight, fiddling with her hands and biting her lip, waiting for him to react. Who was this woman? “I… I don’t even know what to say. When did you even have time to do all of this?”

She looked amused at his question. “Well, it’s not like you’re exactly overworking me.”

Dick had never been more confused by a conversation in his entire life. “Me? Why would I be giving you work?”

This time, it was her turn to be utterly confused. “I… because I’m your personal assistant?”

Dick thought it was a joke, and was about to laugh, but the very serious look on her face gave him pause.

“You’re my personal assistant?” He questioned.

“Yes?”

“I have a personal assistant?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” He exclaimed. What in the world was going on? ”Since when?”

“Since always! Did you not notice when the previous one was fired?”

“There was another one before you?”

“Yes!” She looked absolutely bewildered at his lack of awareness, and he couldn’t exactly blame her. “Your butler, Mr. Pennyworth, takes care of hiring us? How did you not know?”

“I… I have no clue.” He ran a hand through his hair. Jesus. He was turning into Bruce. How had he missed this? “I’m so sorry, I… well, I’m not in here often.”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. “I noticed.”

He cringed. “Yes, and… well, there’s no and. I’m just an ass. I’m sorry.” He gathered the papers she’d just given him. “Thank you for looking into this. Do you mind sending me the footage of David-”

“Dylan.”

“-Dylan stealing the contract? I will make sure to look into it myself.”

She nodded. “I will do it immediately.”

“Alright, thank you.”

A small silence filled the room before the girl eventually headed for the door. “Well, then, if that’s all…”

Dick watched as she walked away, entranced, still blinking from the absurdness of the situation from time to time. “Yes. Of course. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” She mumbled, closing the door softly behind her.

And so Dick was left sitting there, like an idiot, staring at the door.

He hadn’t even asked for her name.

Chapter Text

She laughed for about five days at the absurdity of what had happened. She would never forget the stunned look on his face when he’d found out he technically had a personal assistant. Seriously, it was imprinted in her mind forever. Nothing about her life made sense anymore. Her coworkers thought she was the personal whore of a man who didn’t even know she existed, let alone her name.

She sent the email as soon as she left his office. And though she didn’t receive any email in response, the next day Dylan Crow was escorted out by the police in front of the whole office. The rest of the day was spent in a frenzy, everybody wondering what exactly had happened to Dylan; and when the truth about his scams finally came out, people wondered one thing: who had discovered him?

Of course, she made sure to keep her mouth shut. The office hated her already enough as it was, if they found she was responsible for one of them being fired, she would never walk out of there alive.

She spent the following two weeks trying to busy herself with her usual tasks: reading, chess, playing random online games, anything so she’d stop thinking about what she had done. But she couldn’t. Because, despite how hard she’d tried to convince herself that she was doing ok and was satisfied with her job, she really wasn’t. And that so-called investigation she had led had been the most thrilling thing she’d done in the past year. She’d shut down most of her brain when she’d been forced to stop her research, and something had awoken with all the thinking she’d done.

She wanted more. And she knew she wouldn’t get it.

Her mind sometimes wandered to Dick Grayson, and she could never stop the small laugh that escaped her when she remembered his incredulity. He was so different from the confident, attractive man she’d seen on the Vogue magazine covers. He had been so… lost. And it was entertaining. Then again, he was just a trust-fund nepo baby who didn’t do much with his life and only bothered to show up once a month to keep up appearances. She probably shouldn’t have been very surprised he wasn’t very bright. And yet he’d been raised by Bruce Wayne, so surely his ward had invested a lot of money into his education, no?

She tried not to think of the man who was supposed to be her “boss” too much. There was no use. He never even came in anyway.

She did tell her best friends, Cora and Ember, about what had happened. She embellished the story a little, hiding just how little her “boss” really came into the office, or the fact that her job was a complete farce. The two girls laughed a lot, called her absolutely insane, and congratulated her. They also asked if “Dick Grayson really is as hot as he is in that photoshoot?”, to which she just rolled her eyes because she truly hadn’t seen him enough to assess that.

She thought, with a pang of disappointment, that despite how fun it had been to investigate, it would be a one-time thing. No opportunity like it would ever rise again, and she had to make her peace with it.

Which was why what had happened two weeks later had been so shocking.

It was a rainy Tuesday morning, and she was in the middle of trying to forget about the whole fake contracts debacle, sitting at her desk and trying to ignore the glares as usual when the doors to the office flew wide open and Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne strode in.

Every single head shot up as the two men walked through the office, grim faces and furrowed eyebrows, without greeting anyone. They flew past everyone, heading straight for Dick’s office, clearly in a rush.

She had never seen Bruce Wayne before and was surprised at how good-looking he still was despite nearing his fifties. She knew that Dick was adopted, and realistically what she was thinking was impossible, and yet she couldn’t help but notice the resemblances between the two men. They were both tall and well-built, wavy dark hair framing their faces, clear eyes sharp and calculating. Dick looked so different from the incredulous man he’d been just a couple of weeks prior.

They walked past her desk, and headed straight into the office, closing the door behind them. Everybody was still shocked, trying to figure out what was going on, and staring at the closed door in utter confusion.

She was as confused as everybody else, even more so when the door opened again, and Dick walked right to her desk.

“Hey, you.” He said as soon as he reached her.

She blinked in astonishment, looking up at him as he towered over her. “I… yes?”

His face turned solemn as he bent towards her, their faces mere inches away from each other. “Listen, whatever you do, don’t let anyone into that office, understood?”

“I… ok?”

“No, I’m serious. Whoever tries to walk in, no matter what they say, they don’t get in. You stop them. Alright? Call security, make up some excuse, I don’t care, but nobody can get in there. Understood?”

His blue eyes were boring into hers, so grievous and severe, and although she had no clue what was going on, there was not a single bone in her body that could have denied or questioned his request. His words were a stern command, and there was no way she could say no.

“Yes.” She replied and hoped it sounded more confident than it had come out.

He gave her a small, grave nod. “Good.” And then he walked back into his office, locking the door behind him this time.

Silence fell yet again upon the office, as everybody alternated between staring at the locked door and glaring at her.

Shit. Dick had requested her to guard his door directly. Of course, everybody thought it was because they “intimately” knew each other, which only added fuel to the fire. Crap.

She willed herself to turn around and focus on her computer, hoping everybody would follow suit and slowly forget about the two men standing in the locked room. Slowly, everybody stopped staring - though Sally still made sure to glare at her for ten minutes straight.

She tried to shake it off, focusing on what was going on. Despite sitting so close to the door, she couldn’t hear what Dick and Bruce were talking about in the office, only muffled footsteps from time to time. If they didn’t want anyone interrupting them - and if they feared somebody would, then they must have been doing something important. Dangerous even. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking that something actually interesting was happening in the office.

An hour passed with no sign of anything unusual. She glanced at the locked door behind her and the one to the floor about a million times a minute, taking note of every single movement in the office. She had already alerted security to be ready in case she needed backup, and all it would take would be one small email to get them up there.

Exactly one hour after Dick and Bruce had stormed the office, the doors to the floor flew wide open, causing a few workers to jump in their seats. A tall, muscular man walked in, or rather stalked in, bumping into a woman carrying a stack of papers and sending it all flying as she fell to the floor. His long blond hair was tied into a sleek ponytail that swooshed down and forth down his back as he walked, and he wore an eyepatch over one of his eyes, the shadow of a scar peeking out at the top.

The office fell silent, nobody daring to move as the strange and intimidating man walked right to Dick’s office. That’s when her instincts kicked in.

“Sir? Excuse me? What are you doing?” She called from the desk, but he ignored her and walked past her, heading straight for the door.

She instantly stood up, following the man as fast as she could. “Excuse me? I’m talking to you, sir. You’re not allowed to be here. This is private property and-”

“Grayson!” The strange man banged loudly onto the door, causing people to startle and start whispering. “Wayne! I know you’re in there, open the door!”

She watched horrified as the man kept knocking on the door, sometimes trying to tear the doorknob down and kick it open, in vain. She had no clue how to deal with this, this was supposed to be the most boring job of a lifetime, what the hell was going on?

When the man stepped back to - she assumed - kick down the door, she decided to step in. She quickly rushed to stand between the door and the man, crossing her arms and giving him an angry, reproachful look. “Sir. I’m talking to you. I would appreciate it if you didn’t ignore me.”

He only blinked, before resuming his position, ready to kick. “Move out of the way, woman, before I hurt you.”

“I will do no such thing. I am no woman, I am Miss to you, and I expect basic decency from you, Sir.” She stressed the last word, hoping to startle him or at the very least delay him until security could get to them.

Her comment did seem to give him pause. His shoulders relaxed as he stared her up and down, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

“Sir, this is private property and you are trespassing. I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

The man blinked, once, twice, before breathing in angrily and slowly stepping towards her. Nobody said a word as the man came face to face with hers, towering her with his height and looking at her condescendingly.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” He droned, annoyance dripping in his voice. She could feel his breath fanning her face. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“Do I look like I care?” She quipped, with just as much vehemence.

“You should.”

“Well, I don’t. You could be the Queen of England for all I care, and I would still tell you the step the fuck away.” His nostrils flared at that.

“You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

“I’m going to say this one more time, Sir. Step away from the door.”

“I need to talk with Grayson.”

She shook her head. Every part of her body wanted to shake in fear and cower and disappear, but it was too late for that now. She didn’t know where she was finding the courage to stand up to this man, but there was no way to back down now. “Mr. Grayson is a very, very busy man, as I’m sure you can imagine. If you follow me to my desk, I can help you book an appointment.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “I need to speak to Grayson now.”

“As I said, there’s nothing I can do for-”

Her sentence was cut off as the man punched the door right beside her head, startling the whole office as some women gave sharp cries. The punch was so fast she almost missed it, but she felt the full force of the air as his knuckles hit the door. She could see from the corner of her eye the indentation forming in the door.

She swallowed thickly. “Sir, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either you follow me to my desk so I can book you an appointment with Mr. Grayson, or I will call security and have you escorted off the premises.”

He smirked at that. “You think security will stop me?”

“Step away from the door, Sir.” She doubled down, gritting her teeth and staring him down as best as she could despite being much smaller than him.

She watched as his face seemingly went through the five stages of grief, turning every existing shade of color. She could see the irritation in his posture, the way his fist clenched and unclenched, as if he was trying to control himself. But his shoulders had also dropped, and he looked almost resigned.

After a long, long minute, he eventually stepped away from her. She didn’t dare to glance at the door and see just how deep the hole was. Instead, she somehow managed not to tremble as she pointed her finger at her desk, and followed him.

The man pulled up a chair from another desk, sitting right in front of her. She pulled her chair and sat as well, trying to ignore the way his eyes roamed down her skirt and thighs, and cursed herself for not having worn pants that day. Crazy pervert.

Her breathing was slightly uneven and her fingers were shaking slightly as she opened her computer and started typing. The man leaned back in his chair and kept assessing her. The rest of the office was still watching the exchange in complete silence, scared that the man would snap any moment.

She opened her email, praying he didn’t notice she wasn’t quite opening Dick’s non-existing calendar. “Alright, let me see what I can do for you… our next availability is in… November. Does that work for you?”

“November?” His tone was bitter. “That’s two months from now.”

“As I said, Mr. Grayson is a busy man. Unless you’d like to wait until February?”

He sighed and scoffed. “Fine. November.”

She gave the widest smile she could muster. “Perfect! You’re all set, then. 10:30 on November 31st. We’ll see you then.”

There was a long pause, and the man simply stared at her with his lone eye. Both irritation and admiration swirled in his pale blue eyes. “There is no such thing as November 31st.”

She shrugged. “I am aware, yes.”

“November only has 30 days.” He repeated, slowly, but understanding was gracing his features.

“Yes. That is the whole point.”

“You’re giving me an appointment on a day that doesn’t exist?” His question sounded more like a statement, and he somehow looked both incredulous and enraged.

“Sir, I think I’ve made it quite clear you are not welcome here. Mr. Grayson has no interest in meeting with you. I would appreciate it if you left the premises now.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then broke into a small chuckle. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“I am very, very serious, Sir.”

“And what if I decide to stay? What if I decide to kick that door down myself?”

She smiled a feline-like smile that reached her eyes and reached for her purse. After only a few seconds of rummaging, she pulled out her trusty taser and placed it in front of her on the desk. She clasped her hands together, still smiling and perfectly unfazed. “You see this? It’s a taser. My father got it for me when I started living alone. I’m sure you’re well acquainted with its mechanisms and consequences. Security is on their way as we speak, so here’s what’s going to happen: either you leave of your own free will, and nobody will bother you, or I will be forced to use this taser on you. I’ve done it before and believe me, it’s not pleasant. The choice is yours.”

Her brown eyes met his blue, and they held each other’s stare for what seemed an eternity, though it probably wasn’t that long. Every part of her was screaming that this was a terrible idea, that threatening a violent man with a taser and booking an appointment on a non-existent date just to taunt him was possibly the dumbest thing she’d ever done. But the thrill… it was the same thrill she’d felt throughout the investigation. The thrill that had broken the dull monotony of her endless days.

She had a job to do. And she would do it well, no matter what.

Three security guards walked onto the floor and stopped behind the strange man. He finally sighed and stood up, eyes still locked with hers. “You win.”

That was all he said before he turned and left, pushing one of the security guards away and stalking angrily to the floor’s doors. Everybody held their breath until they saw him disappear behind the doors, and even for a little while after that. Two security guards followed him out, while a last one stayed to make sure everybody was safe and sound.

It took her ten minutes to gather herself and calm down her thumping heart. Ten minutes to gather the courage to knock on Dick Grayson’s door, hoping to be let in. She tried not to look too hard at the hand-shaped indentation that now sat right in the middle of the door.

The door was unlocked almost instantly, and she was hurriedly pulled in by a pair of strong arms, while another closed the door behind her.

Chapter Text

Breaking into Slade Wilson’s office and stealing confidential documents regarding metahumans perhaps wasn’t the smartest idea Dick had ever had in his entire life. Actually, scratch that, it might have been the dumbest idea he’d had in his entire life, and he’d had quite a lot of stupid ideas.

But he’d stumbled on it accidentally during an entirely different mission, and the USB key was sitting right there on the desk. How could he not snatch it and run for his life?

He’d called Bruce almost as soon as he’d entered his car, turning it on and driving away from the scene as quickly as he could. It wouldn’t take long for Slade to figure out that his associate’s new “drinking buddy” was him, and he knew he’d come looking for him then. He needed to see what was in the USB key as fast as he could, and somewhere where Slade wouldn’t think of looking for him.

Which was why the two men had eventually settled on heading to his office. Nobody would bother them there, or question their presence, and Slade wouldn’t find them immediately. At least, that’s what they had hoped.

It was only when they’d reached the office that Dick realized it probably hadn’t been a very bright idea either. There were many civilians on the floor, and their lives were all endangered by their mere presence and the USB key. Which was why he’d rushed out and asked the young woman to ensure nobody got in.

Maybe some part of him had wanted to see her. That’s why he’d suggested the office in the first place, to have an excuse to talk to her again. He hadn’t found the courage to question Alfred or Bruce about his “personal assistant”, and had decided to handle the fraudulent contracts issue with one of the company’s higher-ups. Truthfully, he just wanted to know her name. And, well, how she’d ended up working a dummy job in one of the biggest companies in the country when she was clearly so smart and witty. Their conversation had haunted him for days, and he’d cursed himself multiple times for how much of an idiot he must have looked like.

But now wasn’t the time to think about that. He promised himself he’d find the time to inquire about the young woman once he had dealt with this mess.

“Alright,” He said, sitting at his desk and pulling out his laptop. The USB key was gripped in his left hand as he unlocked the device and started typing away. “Let’s see what this bad boy has for us.

Bruce leaned behind his chair, eyes focused on the screen. “Do you have access to the security cameras on the floor?”

“Maybe? I probably do somewhere.”

“Good. Pull them up. So we can monitor the situation outside. If Wilson shows up, we won’t be caught off-guard.”

Dick only nodded, and after a few minutes of searching, managed to find what he was looking for. The two men then started to go through the files in the USB key, keeping a distracted eye on the security footage while they tried to decipher the documents. A lot of them were in Markovian and mostly looked like scientific research, but others were clearly coded commands. And those were the ones they needed to figure out.

It had been nearly ten years since the implosion of metahumans, and the situation had come to a stalemate. Brion still ruled Markovia and claimed to want to create a peaceful land for all metahumans, while the Light worked in the shadows behind him. Markovia had become a forbidden country, difficult to enter and impossible to escape. And despite the Justice League’s best efforts, there had been no significant changes in the past years. This USB key could perhaps mark the beginning of change, of a new era.

Well, perhaps that had been a tad hopeful. They’d been at it for an hour, and nothing significant had come up. So now not only did he have nothing, but he’d also sacrificed a two-week-long undercover mission to get his hands on this lack of information.

Bruce had pulled up another chair and now sat beside him, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I don’t think there’s anything here, Dick.”

“Well, maybe if we just- what’s that?”

The sight of Slade Wilson barging onto the floor on the security footage had immediately halted him. He looked royally pissed and was heading straight for their door. “Shit,” Dick said as he watched him bump into a coworker, and then heard rather than saw him banging on the door. The whole room rattled as Slade cursed and yelled, countless “Grayson!”s, “Wayne!”s, and “Open the door”s strung together.

“We need to open the door, he’ll bring it down.” Dick eventually said. He’d given the order to that young woman to keep everybody out, but nobody could deal with Wilson on their own.

“We can’t do that.”

“He’s going to scare the shit out of the whole office and bring this door down eventually, we might as well-”

“Holy shit.” Bruce interrupted, pointing at the live video.

Dick whipped his head and stared in shock at the young woman standing between the man and the door, crossing her arms - crossing her arms at Slade Wilson? She was giving attitude to one of the most notorious crime bosses in the country, and was ordering him around, and- “Oh my god, she doesn’t know who he is.”

This woman had no clue whom she was talking down to. She had no clue she was threatening one of the most dangerous men in the country. How did she not know? Everybody knew about Deathstroke, about Slade Wilson, what rock had she been living under?

They were quiet as they watched her ask Wilson to step away, and even more so when he punched the door. They both looked up to the door, finding a deep indentation forming right in the middle. Dick started seeing red. “That was less than an inch from her face. Another one of those and it’s her brains splattered on the door. We need to-”

“Just hold on.” Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a look he couldn’t quite decipher.

And so they watched with astonishment as she somehow redirected him to her desk, the way Slade Wilson listened to her and pulled out a chair and… Dick had to take a few deep breaths as he saw the way he was assessing her. Wilson was eye-fucking her, and he wasn’t being very subtle about it either. He clenched and unclenched his fist a few times, trying to control the urge to just barge in there and take of Wilson himself.

The desk was too far from the camera for them to properly hear their discussion, only muffled words that stood out from time to time. She was typing something on her computer, and he could vaguely make out an email being sent. Probably to security. Smart girl. Wilson was making funny faces - incredulous then impressed then- “Oh my god, is that a taser?”

This time it was Bruce speaking, almost sputtering as they watched in horror the young woman taking the taser out of her purse and placing it in front of her on the desk. This woman walked around with a taser in her purse? A taser?

Wilson was smiling. A wide, all-teeth smile. Christ, he was having fun. And if it hadn’t been for the security guards finally arriving, who knew what he would have done to keep having fun.

Dick sighed in relief as he watched Slade exit the floor, then the building itself. That was probably the most nerve-wracking experience he’d ever had, and he was a superhero, for heaven’s sake, he’d been in a lot of complicated situations. But seeing that young woman risking her life like that, just because he’d simply asked her not to let anybody in… he had no words for it. She was working a dummy job, had been for a while now, had only seen him a handful of times - he had openly admitted he had no clue who she was or that she existed in the first place, and yet… Yet she’d gone through all of that just because he’d asked her.

The knock on the door startled him. He’d been so lost in his considerations that he hadn’t noticed Bruce standing up to unlock the door and pulling the young woman in. Dick watched as Bruce pulled the young woman into the room and promptly locked the door behind her again. He didn’t think he had the strength - or the words - to stand up and greet her. He didn’t even know what he would say to her. This was perhaps the craziest, bravest person he’d ever met.

Bruce came back to stand behind Dick, who still sat at the desk, arms crossed and assessing the young woman. As for her, she was still standing relatively close to the door, as if ready to bolt, fiddling with her fingers.

“Huh… You probably heard, or well, saw the punch, but a man came looking for you.” Bruce nodded tersely, while Dick could only blink in shock. “Anyways, I got him to leave, so… everything is alright, I just thought I should warn you.”

“Yes, we saw what happened,” Bruce replied.

She looked surprised at that. “You did?”

“We have access to the security cameras, we watched everything live.”

Bruce was the only person in the room who had it together because all Dick and the young woman could do was blink and stare confusedly.

“Right…” She eventually said. “Well, then, that was all, I will leave you to-”

“Why do you carry a taser in your purse?” Dick suddenly blurted. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to know about this woman who was supposedly his personal assistant, this woman who had worked a dummy job for who knew how long and probably should have despised him but instead had done exactly as he’d told her.

“Oh! Yes! Well… you know, big cities are dangerous for women, and it’s always better to be able to protect yourselves and…” She sighed. “My dad works for the military. I wasn’t given much of a choice. I do carry pepper spray like a normal person though! I just didn’t think it would be particularly effective.”

Dick smiled at her rambling. She looked so different from when she’d faced Wilson just a few moments ago, so shy and uncertain. “No,” he agreed. “It probably wouldn’t have been very effective on Slade Wilson.”

“I… who?”

Dick winced. Yeah, she’d just confirmed his fears. “Do you have no idea who that man was?”

“Should I know?”

“Most people in Gotham know.” Bruce raised an inquisitory eyebrow.

“Oh, I haven’t been living in Gotham for very long. Just over a year.”

“Where did you live before?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking the question, too curious to know about this mysterious woman.

“Oxford.” She grimaced, and he wondered why.

“Well,” Bruce coughed. “Slade Wilson is… a notorious criminal in Gotham. In recent years he’s entered the metahuman trade and gotten involved with quite a lot of criminal organizations, apart from his own.”

Her eyes widened at that. “Oh. Oh. So I just threatened a crime boss with a taser?”

Dick chuckled. “Yes. That would be correct.”

They watched as she sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t know who he was. Otherwise, I don’t know if I would have been able to stop him.” She paused, something seemingly clicking in her brain, and squinting at the two. “What did Slade Wilson want? I wasn’t aware Wayne Entreprises deals with the metahuman issue.”

Of course she was asking, Dick shouldn’t have been surprised. She was too smart not to start piecing things together and wonder why a billionaire’s company would be involved with metahumans.

“Wayne Entreprises donates a lot of money to NGOs to help metahuman and Markovian refugees and invest in projects to protect them. Criminals like Wilson obviously aren’t too happy about that, their businesses fully rely on the illegal trade.” The lie rolled off his tongue so easily, and he felt momentarily guilty for lying to her. She’d just put her life on the line for him, a complete stranger, and he couldn’t even reward her with honesty.

“Oh. I wasn’t aware. Well, anyways, if that’s all, I’ll return to… work.” Dick couldn’t stop himself from grinning at that, and he could swear the ghost of a smile appeared on her face as well.

He’d never seen her smile.

“Of course.” Bruce nodded, perhaps the only sober person in the room.

“Thank you, Miss…” He needed to know her name. She couldn’t leave without him knowing. He’d lose his mind.

She looked slightly surprised at that, but quickly supplied her name, and proceeded to unlock the door and close it behind her.

The two men stared at the door for a long time, both trying to wrap their heads around what had just happened.

“Who’s that?” Bruce was the first to break the stalemate.

Dick sighed. “My personal assistant, apparently.”

“Ha! We still do that? I didn’t know Alfred still took care of this.”

“Yes, I was meaning to ask the two of you about it. When and why did we ever start hiring dummy secretaries for me?”

“It’s been a long time, at least ten years I’d say.” The older man replied thoughtfully. “Or maybe when you graduated college. Alfred came up with the idea. It was mostly just to make it look like you did work for the company. I didn’t think we still kept up the farce, though.”

Dick scoffed. “Yeah, well, thanks for the heads up by the way. I had no clue I had a personal assistant until she came to tell me that Dylan Crow was trying to scam us out of millions.”

“That was her? I was wondering how that had been discovered. Seems like you have a smart one on your hands. Too bad you can’t actually use her.”

“Yeah…”

But Dick was no longer really paying attention to what Bruce was saying, because all he could hear was her name ringing in his head like an echo.

Chapter Text

She had tried to forget all about what had happened with Slade Wilson. Truly. It was just proving to be… slightly harder than expected.

She’d originally just followed what she’d been told, because tit was the first new instructions she’d been given in over a year, and she was starting to fear her brain was dead for good. If she had known he was a crime boss… well, maybe she wouldn’t taken out the taser. Or gotten in the way. Or done anything at all.

She couldn’t tell if Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson were thankful or not. Well, technically Dick had thanked her, but he was hard to read. And he’d caught her so off guard by asking her name. He seriously hadn’t looked into her after finding out he had a personal assistant? He had to ask her? Why hadn’t he just called Alfred and asked him? She couldn’t make sense of it. Any of it.

The incident with Slade had, at the very least, earned her some respect in the office. Now people no longer glared, she hadn’t heard the words “slut” or “cunt” or “whore” in a while, and Jessica always greeted her, even in front of the others. She’d bought her special cupcakes that said “badass woman” the day after everything had gone down. The only person who seemed set on still hating her and glaring every chance she got was Sally, but she’d learned to just ignore the woman.

The weekend came and went, with only a few worried calls from her parents interrupting her relative peace. “When are you coming back?”, “When will you start your research again?”, “Are you sure that’s what you want?” were the questions they always asked, multiple times a call. She couldn’t totally blame them for being worried; she had never quite explained everything. She’d just announced that she was moving across the pond one day, without a single warning or true explanation. She’d considered just telling them the whole truth often, but every time she opened her mouth to say it, she felt the bile rising and the nausea hitting her. So she’d eventually given up and learned to tune out most of what they asked.

On Monday morning, she was expecting it to be a normal day. Her adventures were over. The contracts had been a lucky - or unlucky, from Dylan Crow’s point of view - instance, and Slade Wilson was an accident that would surely never repeat itself. From now on, her life would go back to being perfectly monotone and dull. She was sure of it.

Her confidence faltered when she found Jessica waiting for her at the door to the floor, concern coating her features.

“There’s a woman here to see you.” Jessica blurted in a hushed tone before she could even say “Good morning”.

“What? Who?” She hadn’t made any friends in Gotham and didn’t know anybody.

“I don’t know. She won’t say. Technically, she’s looking for Mr. Grayson. I told her you’re the only one who can get in touch with him, so now she’s sitting in front of your desk waiting for you.”

She frowned. What was going on? “Jessica! I don’t know how to get in touch with him! I see the man once a month! What are you on about?”

“Well, actually, I’m not entirely sure that’s what’s going on. She doesn’t speak English very well, it took me like 20 minutes to figure it out.” Jessica rambled, clearly anxious about the mysterious woman in the office after the previous week’s fiasco. “Please, just talk to her and figure out what she wants.”

She was about to protest and tell Jessica that she’d dealt with enough strangers for the rest of her life, but the pleading look on her face stopped her in her tracks. Jessica was the closest thing she had to a friend. She couldn’t say no. It’s not like the woman would vanish from her desk anyways.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Jessica nodded vigorously at her, thankfulness shining in her eyes.

She sighed, shaking her head, and finally entered the office. This was going to be a long day. People weren’t outwardly staring at her, but she could sense some curious glances here and there monitoring the situation. If weird things kept happening to her, she’d soon become the office’s clown.

She slowed down when she saw the figure sitting on a chair in front of her desk. The woman couldn’t have been much older than her, maybe in her mid-thirties or so, and she looked exhausted. Her long, blonde hair was tied in a bun, and her sparkling blue eyes looked void of any emotion. She was biting her nails, and her eyes were red as if she’d been crying.

The mysterious woman immediately looked up when she saw her walking towards her. At first, her eyes were filled with fear, but she seemed to calm down when she realized she wasn’t a threat.

“Hello, mam, I’m-”

“I need to see Dick Grayson! Dick Grayson! He’s the only one who can help me! I need to see him!” She was surprised to hear the woman plead in Markovian, stringing sentences along with anxiety.

Because of her father’s work for the military, her family had spent her whole childhood moving around and traveling to new countries. France, Japan, the U.S.…They’d also lived three years in Markovia when she was in middle school, and some of her happiest memories were of her years in Markovburg. Even years later, when she no longer lived there, she felt a deep connection to the country. She’d been gutted to hear about the king and queen’s assassination, and even more by the recent news of King Brion’s ambiguous rule.

“Mam,” she started in Markovian, and the woman’s eyes widened in delight when she heard her speak in her mother tongue. “I’m really sorry, but Mr. Grayson is not here. He rarely comes to the office. But if there’s anything I can help with, I-”

“No! I need to speak to him! I was told he was the one who took care of these things!” The woman complained. “My name is Sabia. I need to speak with him, urgently.”

“About what? I’m sure you understand that I can’t just call him without any valid reason.”

“I’ll tell him when he’s here! It’s urgent! It’s a matter of life and death!” Sabia looked like she was on the verge of tears, and she had no clue how to calm her down.

“Sabia, even if I wanted to call him, I don’t actually have his number. Or any way to contact him. I can’t help you.”

“Aren’t you his secretary? That’s what the other lady said.”

She winced. Damn Jessica. “Well, technically, but as I said, he’s not in here often so I’m a little useless at the moment.”

Sabia reached for her hands and held them in her own. “Please. It’s about my son. Tell him it’s about Apokolips and the metahumans! It’s urgent!”

She was about to send Sabia away, but the word metahuman startled her. This was the second time in less than a week that the metahuman issues reached Wayne Entreprises’ headquarters. Which meant it surely wasn’t a coincidence. And sure, maybe Wayne Entreprises did invest a lot of their money in charity to help out metahuman refugees, but it didn’t make sense for Sabia to come here looking for Dick Grayson specifically. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Metahumans?” She needed more information before making any decisions.

“Yes! Please, I need Dick Grayson! His help! Please! It’s about my son!” Sabia’s doe eyes filled with tears, and she doubted she was making it up. This wasn’t a trap, this was a mother desperately trying to save her son.

“Ok, Sabia, calm down. I’ll see what I can do.” She patted the woman’s shoulder to reassure her. It seemed to work a little, as Sabia nodded and sniffled a little.

She stepped to the side and took a deep breath. Well great. Now she needed to find a way to contact Dick. She didn’t have his number, and although she technically had his email, she wasn’t sure how quickly - if ever - he’d read it. No, there was only one way to get to Dick.

Through Alfred.

She took her phone and clicked on the familiar contact. She treasured her monthly calls with Alfred. He was a sweet, old man, with a taste for chaos, and he almost felt like her grandfather. He was one of the only people who seemed to care about her and understand her situation.

“Miss? It’s wonderful to hear from you, though I have to say, you are a little early!” His voice was cheerful, and she felt bad that she was about to break his high spirits. She kept telling him to call her by her first name, but he insisted on being so polite.

“Hi, Alfred, I’m really sorry to bother you, but something came up and I don’t actually have a way to contact Mr. Grayson.”

“Is something the matter? Did Mr. Wilson drop by the office again?” His voice was laced with worry. Bless his heart.

“No! No! It’s not about Mr. Wilson… but, well, actually, someone did drop by. There’s this young Markovian woman sitting at my desk. Her name is Sabia, and she says she needs to speak to Mr. Grayson about Apokolips and the metahumans. She says it’s about her son. But she won’t say anything else until Mr. Grayson is here.”

He immediately went into full protective mode. “I understand. I will call Mr. Grayson and he will be there soon. Move Sabia into his office and wait for him.”

“Understood. Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course, Miss. Stay safe.”

The call ended then, and she couldn’t suppress the sigh that left her. No matter what happened, it was bound to be bad. Sabia was clearly scared and worried about her son. Whatever she had to tell Dick wouldn’t be pretty.

She made sure not to let any of her own fear show as she walked back to Sabia and directed her into Dick’s office. She quickly pulled out two extra chairs and sat the Markovian down gently. She tried to do some small talk with her while they waited for Dick to arrive, trying to find out some more about her situation, but the woman was adamant: she would only speak to Dick.

Sabia grew impatient the more time passed by, and she didn’t know how to comfort or reassure her. She kept saying that he would arrive soon, but truthfully she had no idea if he would. She didn’t even know if Alfred had called him or not, if he was in Gotham at all, if he-

“I’m here! Is everything ok? Where is she? Is she alright?” Dick’s loud voice suddenly boomed throughout the office, interrupting her train of thought. She checked her watch. It had only been 30 minutes.

She was about to stand up to go open the door, but Dick beat her to it and it flew right open. His blue eyes were filled with panic as they settled onto her figure, completely ignoring Sabia. He was wearing a casual black jacket, dark blue shirt, and black jeans, and looked like he had ran all the way to the office.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Was it Slade? Did he come back?” His voice was frantic, and she could tell from the way his eyes moved that he was checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt. She was surprised at his concern, maybe even a little touched.

“No! I’m ok! Nothing happened! Didn’t Alfred tell you?”

He seemed to calm down at her words, taking a few deep breaths and running a shaking hand through his hair. “He just said you called and something came up at the office. I was worried about y- Wilson, so I hung up and rushed here.” His eyes were still assessing her, almost as if he wasn’t entirely convinced that she wasn’t hurt. Or maybe he needed to convince herself.

“Ah. Right. Well.” She didn’t know what to tell him, didn’t know if she should be touched or not that he’d been so concerned about her when he hadn’t even known her name just a few days prior. “This is Sabia. She’s here for you. She will only talk to you. She says she has information about Apokolips and the metahumans…”

Dick finally seemed to notice the young Markovian sitting beside her and turned slightly to inspect her. Understanding seemed to shine in his eyes.

“Oh. I understand now.” He mumbled. He turned around and closed the door, then proceeded to cross the room in a few long strides and sat in his desk chair. He spoke as he removed his jacket and hung it on the chair. “Alright then, Sabia. How can I help you?”

She was surprised at how calmly he took this. Was he used to random people just showing up to him and demanding his help? As soon as she’d said metahumans, his whole demeanor had changed, almost as if this was an everyday occurrence for him. Something wasn’t adding up, she was sure of it.

Sabia started speaking in Markovian, and Dick blinked at that. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Markovian, I… how did you talk to her?”

“I speak Markovian, actually.”

His eyes widened in admiration. “You do?”

She nodded. “Yes, I lived a few years in Markovia as a kid.”

“How long before the coup?”

“About 5 years or so.”

He kept quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “Alright then. Do you mind helping me out and telling me what Sabia is trying to say?”

“Of course.” She turned to Sabia and assured her she would relay everything to Dick. The young woman looked slightly startled, but after seeing Dick’s encouraging face, she acquiesced and started speaking. She promptly translated everything. “Sabia says she and her son were trying to leave Markovia when they were kidnapped by mysterious forces. They were brought over to the U.S.A. because these people found out they both possessed the metagene. They were tested multiple times, and they weren’t able to activate hers but… they found a way for her son. And they want to send him to Apokolips for further testing. She managed to escape thanks to someone’s help on the inside and was told to come find you.”

She still wasn’t entirely sure what Apokolips was, but both Sabia and Dick seemed to perfectly understand what was going on.

“I understand. Does Sabia remember where they were kept?” Dick’s voice was calm and decisive, and he was clearly perfectly accustomed to being in charge like this. He didn’t look shy or confused or even worried like he normally did.

She translated his question and promptly relayed the answer. “Yes, she remembers the warehouse. It’s hidden in plain sight in Gotham. She wants you to help you find her son. She says it’ll be too late if he’s sent to Apokolips.”

“Would she be willing to show me the way?” Sabia instantly nodded, having understood that sentence without the need for her to translate. “Good. Let’s get going, then.”

She spluttered. “What? Right now? Are you sure?”

Dick started standing up and putting his jacket back on. “Yes. There’s no time to lose if we want to save Sabia’s son.”

“And this is just a normal occurrence for you? Metahumans come begging for help and you help them out?”

He paused, his blue eyes staring right into her brown. He seemed to have finally registered that she was confused. There was a long silence, and he seemed to be considering his words carefully. “Let’s just say I am a bit of a… private investigator.”

Private investigator? This man never showed up at his own office because he was a private investigator? This was probably the wildest thing she’d ever heard. All this time, this man she thought was a trust fund baby was actually helping out metahumans and working a real job. Revelation of the year.

He read the surprise on her face and smirked. “What? Don’t think I’m smart enough to be a P.I.?”

“No! I just… you never come in, so I just assumed… I don’t know.”

He shook his head. “We’ll discuss this later. And you. We’ll also discuss you and how you got here. For now, we need to move.”

“What? Me? What about- wait, hold on a second, what do you mean we?”

“Well, I don’t speak Markovian but I need to communicate with Sabia. I need you to come with us to translate. Is that ok for you? Or are you too busy with your work to tag along?”

She watched in frustration as a small grin graced his face, clearly taunting her with her own words from their last encounter. Bitch. Her nostrils flared in irritation. He was the reason she didn’t have any work to do, to begin with! He was clearly issuing a challenge, and she would not back down.

To hell with her normal Monday. It was time to hunt down metahuman traffickers and save some people.

“Lead the way.”

And so they stepped outside the office, leaving for what would be the first of many investigations together.

Chapter Text

Dick had bailed on his lunch with Artemis as soon as he’d gotten the call from Alfred, and despite how much he hated to admit it, he’d been absolutely and utterly petrified.

All it took was Alfred’s “Miss called from the office and something-” and he’d jumped out of the booth at their favorite diner and sprinted to his car. He’d driven faster than he ever had, probably running a few red lights and breaking a good number of driving rules, heart pounding in his chest as he headed for the office.

He’d been worried sick about her. About Slade Wilson, and all that had happened just a few days prior. He’d even brought up the issue with Bruce, who’d assured him he’d have someone keep an eye on her just in case. But that wasn’t enough to reassure Dick. When Slade wanted something, he got it, and there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted her.

He’d been so frantic when he’d arrived, realizing with horror that she wasn’t sitting at her desk, and desperately scanning the whole office to find her. And when someone had timidly told him she was waiting in his office with a guest, he’d slammed the door wide open.

And it wasn’t until he'd checked her for bruises a few hundred times, until she'd told him that she was fine, until he'd witnessed for himself that she was ok, that he’d managed to calm down.

And now they were sitting in his car, Sabia in the backseat and her next to him - he’d insisted - driving to the warehouse where they’d hopefully find Sabia’s son. Sabia looked nervous and impatient, silently whispering her directions while the woman translated. She was also silent, a serious look on her face that he couldn’t quite decipher.

He didn’t exactly have a plan for this, either. Everything had gone to shit when he’d decided to say he was a private investigator, which wasn’t far from the truth but also wasn’t exactly the truth either. And by bringing her with him, there was a growing probability that she would figure it out. But she’d asked, and he could tell she was starting to put pieces together, and he’d only had a split second to make his decision and say he was a private investigator. His answer seemed to have satisfied her enough, at least for now.

He glanced at his phone which kept chiming. It was Artemis, of course, asking if everything was alright and if he needed help. He replied with a “Maybe later, standby” when they reached a red light, under the woman’s watchful eye. She never missed anything. Artemis hadn’t retired yet, but she’d taken a significant step back since her marriage. She alternated between teaching classes at Gotham University and helping him and Tim out on investigations. Not that he could blame her. If he had someone waiting for him at home every night, he’d probably take a step back as well.

They kept driving in silence, only Sabia’s directions interrupting it from time to time. Dick considered the situation.

Sabia probably didn’t know about his superhero identity, only that he was a general reference for metahuman refugees. He’d helped so many in the last decade and had made a name for himself, so it made sense. He couldn’t say for certain that she didn’t know, but he was cautiously sure she wasn’t.

As for his assistant… she didn’t know anything. Only what he’d told her. And if he wanted to keep her out of danger, he’d have to keep it this way. She was smart and cunning, and he had no doubt she would figure it out if she had even the slightest suspicion that something was off.

Who was this woman and where did she come from? He frowned when he realized he didn’t know a whole lot of things about her. He started making a mental list:

1) Her name. Finally.
2) She’d been living on Gotham for a little over a year, and he decided he could reasonably assume she’d been working at Wayne Entreprises for the same amount of time.
3) Before then, she lived in Oxford, but she spoke with an American accent so she probably wasn’t English.
4) Her dad worked for the military. Which country’s military he was still unsure of, though.
5) She carried a taser in her purse, and pepper spray (he’d noticed she’d grabbed her purse when they had headed out. Did she sense this might become dangerous?)
6) She called Alfred by name and had been hired by him. Were they close? That was technically a question more than something he knew.

Well, that was not a whole lot of things. He still needed to give Alfred a call to find out more about her; perhaps he hadn’t yet because part of him hoped he could hear it from her instead.

“So…” he eventually said, deciding now was as good of a time as ever. “How did you end up here?”

She raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “You mean in your car? Because I distinctly remember you taunting me and then dragging me along.”

He chuckled. “No, I meant working a dummy job at Wayne Entreprises. How does that come about?”

“Oh. Well. I saw the ad on a website, I sent in my application, and off I went.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.”

She was particularly closed off when it came to her life before this job, and Dick knew from experience she must have been hiding something. “And you just kept working a dummy job for a year?”

“Well, the salary is outrageous, and you provide both healthcare and rent. I’d be a fool to quit, now, wouldn’t I?”

He snorted. “How old are you?”

“I turned twenty-seven in July.” Ah. So she was three years younger than him. That made her twenty-six when she’d started the job. What did she do before then? Assuming she’d gotten a degree, there were still a few years left unaccounted for.

He was about to ask, but then Sabia interrupted them loudly and started wildly gesturing around. She instantly translated. “Sabia says it’s here. The red building on the other side of the street.”

Dick inspected it from the car as he looked for a spot to park. Sabia wasn’t kidding when she said it was hidden in plain sight: the building sat between a coffee shop and a bakery, on one of Gotham’s busiest streets. Anybody who walked by would simply brush it off as a normal residential building, not as a secret metahuman lair. It was clean, well-put together, and he was fairly certain he’d driven by this specific street countless times without ever noticing anything.

He was lucky enough to find a parking spot right across the building, and promptly started maneuvering the car into place. When they were finally parked, he turned to face both Sabia and his assistant. “Ok, I’m going to go in. You two stay here, it could be dangerous. Are there any useful directions Sabia can give me before I go?”

The young woman frowned at him while Sabia started anxiously blabbering. “Sabia wants to go in with you. And I would agree, you’re a PI, not a superhero. You’re just as much of a civilian as we are.”

Dick tried to suppress his wince as best as he could. Jesus. Did she know? Was that comment on purpose? Or was she just unconsciously putting the pieces together? “It’s too dangerous in there, you would be a liability and-”

“I think I proved that I can take care of myself just fine last week.” She interrupted, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t come along so I could sit in the car and brush my hair. You need Sabia’s directions and my translation, so instead of arguing, we should just get going. Come on, Sabia.”

And then she opened the door of the car and stepped out, slamming it right behind her. Sabia stared at him, huffing a little and giving a solemn nod before following her outside. Despite not understanding a word of what she’d said, she’d gotten the message just fine.

Fucking hell.

He sighed, resigned, and eventually stepped outside. Better to go in with them than have them roam around a metahuman trafficking base on their own. He quickly followed them, motioning for them to stay behind him as they crossed the road and reached the front door.

He started his routine inspection of the building, checking for cameras or anything unusual, but found nothing. He glanced left and right, but none of the pedestrians were paying attention to them, too busy hurrying to their jobs and other activities. He took a deep breath, and using one of his techniques, cracked the lock.

The door opened with a creaking sound that made Sabia shudder behind him. He turned around to face the two women.

“Ok, you are coming in, but make no sound and whatever you do, do not touch anything. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” She hissed, seemingly irritated, and Sabia nodded. How did she have the gall to be irritated with him when she was the one who’d insisted on coming in the first place? This woman was something.

He slowly pushed the door open, glancing back and forth to make sure nobody was waiting for them. The place was dead silent. He took a few steps forward, looking for booby traps or anything that could hurt them, but found nothing. The place was empty.

After a little while, he motioned for them to follow. They did so as silently as they could, and Dick was relieved they had at least some common sense.

They started searching the rooms, which proved to be very easy because they were all utterly empty. Not a single piece of hair or DNA or furniture or even dust was left.

“This place looks abandoned.” She said after a little while, and Dick nodded. Sabia looked very distraught, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She mumbled something in Markovian. “She says it all used to be here. They would keep the kids in this room, and the adults in the other one. And now it’s all gone.”

Dick turned to look at them. Sabia was shaking, tears forming in her eyes, while the young woman tried to reassure her the best she could, patting her shoulder and whispering some words he didn’t understand in Markovian. The sight broke his heart. His job was hard, yes, and he’d failed and lost many people over the years. But that didn’t mean it got easier.

“Listen, I think-” He started.

“Hello? Jakob? Is that you?” A voice booming down the hallway stopped him right in his tracks. He instinctively grabbed the young woman’s arm, pulling her and Sabia into the room behind him. He placed a finger on his mouth, gesturing for them to keep quiet, as he peeked outside the room. Shit shit shit. They needed to get out of there as quickly as they could.

“Kristoff, stop shouting.” Another voice replied, and Dick heard the familiar clinking of a gun. Or maybe a machine gun, he couldn’t tell. He could see their shadows at the end of their hallway, but they still hadn’t turned. “Jakob probably fell asleep eating his lunch or something.”

‘Klaus, the door was open. Why would Jakob leave the door open? Something is fishy here.” Their footsteps were getting closer by the second, and he could see the two men standing now. They were tall, muscular, and… shit, those were machine guns.

He glanced back to two women with him. Sabia was shaking in fear, but the young woman looked resolute. She wasn’t scared nor crying nor stressed. She knew it was inevitable, and she looked ready for war.

“On the count of three, you follow me and you run. Are we clear?” He whispered.

They both nodded.

Dick went back to peeking outside the door. The two men were getting closer. He just needed to disarm them long enough to knock them out. Then they’d run and leave as fast as possible.

“One…” Kristoff and Klaus were still arguing. They were just five feet away from their door now. “Two…” Two feet. “One…” Nearly there. “Now!”

Dick kicked the door wide open and threw himself on the closest man, whom he assumed to be Kristoff. The man screamed in surprise as Dick decked him in the face and proceeded to swiftly knock the gun out of his hands, sending it flying to the far end of the hallway. Kristoff recovered and tried to hit him back, a punch which Dick quickly dodged. The man lost his balance long enough that Dick was able to hit him on the head and make him fall to the ground, unconscious. Just then, Klaus raised his machine gun and looked ready to shoot when-

A loud crackling noise erupted in the room, Klaus’ eyes widening and bulging out before he fell forward to the ground with a big thud. Behind him, she was standing tall with her hair slightly in her face, taser in hand, and eyes confident. Dick blinked in surprise. She really had just tased him.

He was about to say something, but they suddenly heard more shouts coming from the upper floors, followed by loud footsteps and the clinking of guns.

“Run! To the car!” Dick shouted, grabbing the young woman and pushing him in front of him as they started sprinting. He tried to ignore the increasingly louder footsteps as best as he could.

When they finally exited the building, the three of them sprinted to the car. Dick opened the door to the driver’s seat and was about to get in when a shot rippled through the air, less than an inch from his face. Screams erupted in the street, civilians running away and taking cover as more armed men arrived through the front door. Sabia was already in the backseat, but his assistant still hadn’t managed to reach for her door and was right in the line of shooting.

Dick didn’t think about it twice. He grabbed her by the arm, causing her to yelp, and threw her right onto the driver’s seat. He slammed the door and hopped over the car, dodging another bullet, and reaching the other side. Sabia yelled in fear at his jump and cowered, trying to hide herself under the backseat. Dick threw himself in the passenger’s seat as quickly as he could.

“Drive!” Another bullet flew, hitting the shop’s glass behind them. “Go, go, go!”

And so she started driving, bullets flying their way behind them, as Dick prayed that they’d manage to make it back in one piece.

Chapter Text

She couldn’t drive.

She couldn’t drive, and she was currently in a car chase. She was driving the car in the aforementioned car chase.

Well, technically, she could drive. She had her license, she just just wasn’t a very good driver. She was confused by street signs, often went left instead of right and vice versa, and just overall was not very skilled at it. She hadn’t driven anything in over a year, because the subway worked pretty well in Gotham and she didn’t really feel the need for a car.

And now she was supposed to drive a car in a terrible, anxiety-inducing, life-threatening situation.

She’d hit the gas as soon as Dick had yelled to drive and go, the car roaring as it propelled forward. She had no clue where she was going or what she was doing, only that there were two huge black SUVs following them with armed men pointing guns at them, and that she didn’t know how to lose them.

She didn’t even know Gotham that well. She was 100% going to drive them into a dead-end street by accident.

Sabia screamed when bullets hit the back of the car, shattering the glass and letting a gust of wind blow in. Dick was sitting in the passenger seat, holding onto her headrest and turning around to look at their pursuers.

“Turn right!” He screamed, not taking his eyes off of the perps.

And so of course, her brain short-circuited, and she turned left. Onto one of Gotham’s longest and busiest streets. Luckily it wasn’t too crowded, and they were going at the speed of light, but that meant the SUVs were also right on their tail with no way of confusing them.

Dick’s face betrayed his panic. “I said turn right!”

“I’m sorry!” They were both yelling, clearly both panicked by what was happening. Sure, he may have been a private investigator, but he probably didn’t do car chases every day.

“Why did you turn left?” He yelled back, turning around to look at the SUVs. They were still on their tails.

“I can’t drive!”

He instantly whipped his head, eyes widening. She could see the “oh shit”s swirling in his mind. “What do you mean you can’t drive?”

“I can’t fucking drive!”

“You don’t have your license?”

“I do, I’m just a terrible driver! I haven’t driven in years!”

“What?”

“I said, I haven’t-“

“No, no, I heard you, I just… you can tase a man holding a machine gun but you can’t drive?” He looked exasperated, and she couldn’t exactly blame him.

“I can’t do everything, ok? I have my limits!”

“And your limit is DRIVING?” His voice boomed the last word, and even Sabia seemed to be judging her.

“You’re the one who manhandled me into the driver’s seat!”

“Yeah, because they were SHOOTING at us.” More shots boomed from behind, one of them hitting the wing mirror and shattering it.

“Well, then you should have just left me for dead!”

“What?”

“I said, you should have just-“

“No, I heard you! I just can’t fucking believe you right now!” The irritation in his screams was very, very clear.

Sabia screamed from behind, and another bullet hit the top right of the car. She could see the indentation clearly from the corner of her eye.

Dick sighed, then turned to her. “Listen, I know you’re not a great driver, but I need you to do your thing and become one because I’m going to get rid of them and I can’t do that while also giving you directions.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Do my thing?”

“Yes! Your thing where you uncover fraudulent scams and threaten criminals with a taser and then actually tase them!”

She was horrified. “That’s not a thing! That’s my brain going into survival mode!”

“Why wouldn’t your brain be in survival mode right now? This is a car chase!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how my brain works, ok?”

“Well, you need to drive and fucking lose them, ok?” He yelled, crouching forward to open the glove compartment.

“Why can’t you just- oh my god is that a gun?” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw him taking out the gun, testing it in his hands, making sure it was loaded.

He didn’t answer, instead rolling down his window and poking his upper body out of the window. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she instantly heard the shots fired from his gun, as well as the sound of wheels stuttering on the street. She quickly glanced at the rear mirror and saw one of the SUVs losing its balance, precariously edging left and right.

“Why do you have a gun in your glove compartment?” She yelled at him, or, well, his ass, since his head was poking outside.

“I am a private investigator!” His voice was muffled by the wind and followed by another shot that missed.

“Private investigators don’t carry guns around!”

“The ones in Gotham do!” Two shots followed, hitting bullseyes: he instantly popped the two front tires of one of the SUVs, causing it to swerve and then crash onto the sidewalk, the armed men screaming as they toppled over.

Sabia was praying in the backseat.

The second SUV, however, was still following them at great speed and was gaining distance on them.

“Go faster!” Dick yelled, firing a shot and missing.

“This is as fast as it can go!”

“Well go faster- AH!” His sentence was cut off as she suddenly stepped on the brakes, making him lose his balance and nearly topple out of the car. She instinctively reached her right arm out for him, grabbing him by the ass and pulling him back in. Well, she didn’t have enough strength to pull him back in, but she did have enough to keep him from falling out of the vehicle.

He moved back into the car, sitting in the passenger’s seat. “What the hell? Why did you stop?”

“Look at that.”

He whipped his head, ready to reply, but was instantly shut up by the endless lines of traffic in front of them. Cars and motorcycles and trucks and every moving vehicle in Gotham seemed to be there. The sea of cars looked unsurpassable, and she feared they’d never make it out of it alive.

He cursed. “Shit. We’re on Greenpoint Avenue.”

“Yeah.” She looked at the rearview mirror. The SUV was only a few cars behind them, and she could see some of the armed men arguing. “What do we do?”

“Well, I- shit.” His gaze was fixed on the rearview mirror.

Shit indeed. The armed men had finally decided what to do, and were now jumping out of the vehicle, machine guns in hand, and heading straight for their car. Sabia was still praying in the backseat. Dick took a deep breath, cocking his handgun, seemingly ready to fight his way out of it. But there were at least of dozen of them, and only one of him, not to mention his measly handgun was nothing compared to their machine guns.

This was it. She was going to die. Shot in a car on Greenpoint Avenue, an avenue she didn’t even know existed until ten seconds ago. Sabia was never going to find her son. She was never going to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She was going to die and everybody would think that she was just Dick Grayson’s whore.

No. No. There was no way. She couldn’t let that happen. This couldn’t be the end. This was just the beginning.

“Hold on.” She declared, eyes narrowing and focusing on the road ahead. She could do this. She would do this.

“What?” But Dick didn’t have time to ask anything else before she hit the gas pedal, propelling him forward. He nearly hit his head on the glove compartment, and she was impressed with how he’d managed to pull back at the last minute. Talk about balance.

She drove with reckless speed, slaloming in and out of the stalled cars, sometimes even driving on the sidewalk to gain time. She could hear drivers swear at her from behind, but she didn’t care. She ran right over multiple speed bumps, but that didn’t stop her in the slightest. Left and right and left right; wherever she found free space, she made sure to sneak into it, honking to signal her arrival. Sabia was flying in the backseat, and Dick was holding on for dear life, but they didn’t say a word, only glanced at the rear from time to time. The SUV was still following them, though it had some trouble slaloming as well as she did. Their car was small and agile, whereas the SUV was big and awkward in its movements. Before long, she spotted the end of the queue and a bridge. Good. All she needed to do was pass that bridge. She’d never driven faster, she could feel all the wind coming from the hole in the back of the car.

“Wait! It’s a moveable bridge! And a boat is coming right up!” Dick pointed to their left, where they could see a boat honking and soaring on the water. She glanced back at the SUV. It was swiftly gaining on them. If they stopped to let the boat go through, then the SUV would reach them and they’d have to fight. A fight they probably wouldn’t survive, because Dick might have been a private investigator, but he was no Batman or Superman or whatever superheroes the Americans had.

“We’ll make it. Hold on.”

Dick’s face widened in horror. “What? Are you absolutely insane? This is suicide! Weren’t you the one who said she couldn’t drive like twenty minutes ago?”

“Yeah, well someone told me to do my thing.”

She pressed her foot as much as she could onto the accelerator, propelling the car forward yet again. Her eyes kept glancing between the boat and the moving bridge that was slowly swinging upwards.

“Just a little more…” She whispered more to herself than to the others, gripping the steering wheel as hard as she could.

The bridge grew closer by the second, its half lifting higher by the second. But she didn’t have a choice. It was either this or fight a dozen armed men.

Sabia screamed when they finally reached the end of the bridge and she realized that they weren’t going to stop. Dick gripped her hand on the steering wheel, staring right at her rather than the bridge ahead. His hand was warm and calloused, somehow reassuring. It almost felt as if he believed in her. And that was all she really needed from him.

The car stuttered slightly as they started going upwards, but she didn’t hesitate or stop. She hit the gas pedal as hard as she could, the car soaring on the growing gap between the two halves of the bridge. The boat beneath them honked, pumping some grey smoke towards them.

And then, by some miracle, the car didn’t fall into the water. Instead, it landed rather poorly on the other side, spluttering as she kept driving. The noises it was making definitely weren’t normal. But that was a problem for another time. Actually, it wasn’t her problem at all, but rather Dick’s problem, because it was his car after all.

She finally stopped the battered and bruised car when they reached the other end of the bridge. Sabia was full-on crying in the backseat, praying to some Markovian gods she’d long forgotten. Dick’s large hand was still engulfing hers.

She let out a long sigh, resting her head against the seat and closing her eyes. All the nerves her body had accumulated in the past twenty minutes slowly started to dissipate. She was ok. Sabia was ok. Dick was ok. They were all ok.

She cracked her eyes open, glancing at Dick. She was surprised to find his gaze locked onto her, eyes wide in slight surprise and something else she couldn’t quite decipher.

She smirked. “Was that what you meant by do your thing?”

A sly smile slowly spread onto his lips.

“Precisely.”

Chapter Text

They only stopped for a few minutes before Dick declared they had to leave. He wasn’t wrong: the bridge would soon go back down, and then the black SUV would be able to reach them.

He removed his hand from hers, where it had been the whole time since she’d hit the gas pedal and prayed for the best. She watched as he took his phone out and typed an address in his maps app. He then propped it up onto the car’s console and told her to follow the directions.

She didn’t protest. Normally, she would have - at the very least - demanded to know where they were going, but she didn’t have the strength to do so after the day they’d just had. And to think that just this morning, she’d thought this would be a Monday like any other. Sabia had calmed down and was now eager to get to a safe place. She was sure that her son was still on her mind, but for the moment he would have to wait.

Dick remained silent for the whole ride. She glanced at him from time to time, to try and and figure out what was going on inside that pretty head of his, but his face didn’t betray anything except a lot of concentration. He looked completely lost in thought, and she didn’t dare interrupt his thinking.

They eventually pulled up in front of a small building in Western Gotham. The building, albeit quite tiny, looked neat and peaceful. Its wooden exterior gave it a cozy, cottage-like appearance that she quite liked. Dick pointed to an empty parking spot right in front of the building, and she started maneuvering the car into place. It took her an embarrassing amount of time due to her rusty driving skills, and Dick was smiling the entire time.

“Don’t you say a word,” she hissed as she maneuvered for the tenth time, which only made his smile grow wider. Sabia didn’t say anything from the backseat, and she was clearly itching to leave the car. She couldn’t exactly blame her; this probably hadn’t been her smoothest ride.

When she eventually managed to park the car, the three of them stepped outside in unison and took one long, sad look at the car. It looked like a heap of metal, with multiple bullet holes visible on the top and sides, a missing rear window, and a shattered wing mirror. The cherry on top was probably the deflated tire. Or perhaps the smoke coming out of one of the pipes.

“Well, this car has seen better days.” She commented, and Dick only sighed in response.

“Don’t worry about the car. Let’s go up.”

She and Sabia followed him up the front steps, watching as he took a set of keys out of his pockets and started fiddling with the door’s lock. A few seconds later, the door opened wide and he walked in, motioning for them to follow. The interior was also made of wood, and they started going up the stairs that were right in front of the entrance. Dick opened another door on the first floor and seemed to relax when they finally stepped in.

“Welcome to the Nest.” He declared with a small smile on his lips, stepping to the side to let them walk in.

She stepped into the small apartment, inspecting the place. It was a small, neat place, with a large living room filled with flying papers, overflowing cardboard boxes, corkboards with countless photos and evidence, and two desks with two huge computers standing on them. There was a small green couch on the right-side wall, and that seemed to be the only furniture in the room that didn’t have papers or random objects stacked on it. There was also some sort of cabinet, with bright, shiny car keys lying atop it. On the other side of the room, there was an entrance, that she assumed led to a bathroom and maybe another room.

“And what would the Nest be, exactly?” She asked, walking around the room to observe it further. A lot of the pictures on the corkboard were of missing metahumans, known traffickers, crime scenes, and other related perps. Dick was truly an effective PI after all.

“Oh, it’s just our home base. Where we regroup, think things through, and plan our heists. Where we do everything, really.”

“We?”

Just as she asked, they heard footsteps rushing down another staircase, and a young man appeared from the door they’d just come in.

“Dick? Is that you? Are you done playing fucking Maverick in Gotham? There’s footage of your little red car driving all around Gotham like a madman. You jumped off Greenpoint Avenue bridge, for fuck’s sake, what the hell were you-”

The three of them turned to stare at the young man, who looked just as surprised to find two random women standing in the apartment. He looked slightly younger than Dick and surprisingly similar. Cropped jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a taunting look in his eyes. His jawline wasn’t as sharp, and he was less handsome than Dick, but the similarities were striking. He looked oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out where she’d seen him before.

“Relax, Tim, they’re all clear.” He took a step towards Tim, who she now recalled was one of Bruce Wayne’s many adoptive children, and gave him some sort of sigh she couldn’t decipher. Time glanced back and forth between the two women and gave a small understanding nod. Whatever the two had told each other, she couldn’t figure out. “This is Sabia, the Light took her son because of his metagene. We’re trying to locate him and the rest of the group. And this is-”

“Ah, yes, the famous personal assistant. I heard all about your encounter with Slade. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Tim smirked, holding out his hand. Ah, so had her existence become a family joke, then? She hesitantly shook it.

“Tim, give her a break. We’re alive thanks to her. She was the one driving.”

Tim’s eyes widened, impressed. “Ah, you’re the Maverick, then? I should have known it wasn’t you, Dickie-doo, you were never really good at driving then.”

“Maverick was a plane pilot, not a car driver.”

The young man dismissed her with a wave of hand. “Ah, same difference. The important thing is that you’re both reckless.”

“We were literally being chased down by criminals with machine guns.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Ok! I think that’s enough!” Dick swiftly interrupted, breaking up the weird conversation. “Tim, we need to locate the group. Sabia brought us to where they’d been keeping them, but they’d already left. The place was empty, except for the few men who chased us through the city. We need to find where they took them all before it’s too late.”

“Got it,” Tim replied, instantly crossing the room and sitting in one of the gigantic chairs in front of the desks. With a few clicks, the huge screen was on, revealing hundreds of tabs, pictures, police reports, and more investigation-related stuff.

Dick noticed her surprised face. “What? I told you I was good at my job.”

“Excuse me for doubting the man who has a fake personal assistant and only shows up at his office once a month.” Tim snorted, and Dick only smiled in her direction. “Besides, you shamed me for being a bad driver, and now I find out you’re a terrible one as well!”

“Well, I’m not the one who slalomed through miles of traffic, Smokes.”

“It was purely survival instincts! And don’t call me that.”

Tim interrupted before Dick could reply. “Ok, there we go. Reports of suspicious activities down by the port. The amount of boom tube particles registered is abnormally high. They might be planning to take them to Apokolips tonight.”

Behind them, Sabia let out a small distressed cry. She had sat down on the couch while they discussed, and the tears in her eyes were visible to everyone.

Dick sighed, bending beside Tim to take a better look at the information he’d found. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and she could tell this wasn’t the information he’d wanted to receive. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaustion painted on his features. “Fine. We’ll move tonight, then.” He then turned to Sabia. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring your son back to you.”

Sabia nodded, speaking in Markovian as she translated. “She thanks you, and she says she’ll be ready to come with you tonight.”

Both Tim and Dick winced and then glanced at each other. Tim eventually broke the silence. “We appreciate that you want to help, but tonight will be quite dangerous. We’re planning on breaking into a high-security metahuman trafficking lair, and I’m sure you can understand that-”

“More dangerous than the two dozen men chasing us down the Gotham streets with machine guns today?” She asked, crossing her arms. Her friends always liked to say that when she crossed her arms it was over for whomever she was arguing with. And today would be no different. There was no way she was just going to sit on a couch in a place called the fucking Nest while two men took care of everything. Not after all that had happened that day.

“Smokes, for the love of god, you could have died. Don’t be stubborn.” Dick shot her a half reproaching, half pleading look.

“Why are you calling me Smokes? It’s not my fault there’s smoke coming out of your car, it was a life or death situation.”

Tim turned to face his brother, the smirk on his face crystal clear. “Your car is on fire?”

“Tim. Please. Yes, it was a life or death situation, which is why the two of you should stay here, so you’re not in that position anymore.”

“I think I proved that-”

“I know you can take care of yourself, but tasing one man once and successfully jumping a car off a bridge does not automatically make you qualified to break into a metahuman trafficking lair!”

“Oh yeah? Well, then, enlighten us, won’t you, what makes you qualified?”

“Years of experience? The fact that it’s literally my job?”

Sabia mumbled something from the couch, crossing her arms as well. She was evidently on her side.

Dick glanced between the two women in disbelief. “I’m not the mean, crazy one here! I’m looking out for you! I care about your safety!”

“Nobody asked you to!”

“Ok, guys, I think maybe we should take a breather and-” Tim tried interrupting, without much success.

“Nobody had to ask me, it’s just common decency.”

“Yeah, well, again, entirely unnecessary.”

“Ok! Enough! Please! Sabia is getting upset.” Tim pointed at the young Markovian and to their credit, they did both turn around to look at her, but Sabia looked everything but upset. She looked enraged with Dick and his decision. “Listen, I hate agreeing with Dickie-doo, but he’s right. It’s a very tricky operation, and we can’t do our job correctly if we also have to look out for you. Please understand, it’s not against you, we would take you if you could, but the circumstances don’t allow it.”

A long silence filled the room, apart from Tim’s chair squeaking from time to time as the young man nervously waited for the women’s response. Smokes’ gaze was fixed on Dick, and he was looking at her with just as much intensity. Their eyes locked, fire and determination swirling. Neither of them wanted to lose, but somebody had to.

And she knew it wouldn’t be her.

She snorted. “Ok, then. Good luck getting there on foot.”

Dick blinked. Then he glanced at Tim, who was looking right at him. Then they looked at Smokes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, it might be hard getting there without a car.” She shrugged nonchalantly, taking her time to walk around the room. For dramatic effect, mostly.

“We have a car. Two, actually. Mine and Dick’s.” Tim looked particularly confused.

“Dick’s car? You mean the heap of metal parked outside?”

“It’s not a heap of metal, and just because it’s a bit battered doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.”

She bent down to observe a snowball that was randomly lying on a coffee table hidden in the back of the room. “Yeah, well, good luck driving it without its keys.”

There was a small pause, and then Dick started frantically patting himself, feeling for the keys in all of his pockets. He cursed when he came up short. “Did you steal my keys?”

“I technically just never gave them back.”

“Ok, but still, we have my car, so I don’t see the issue-” Tim started, patting himself as well to take his keys out. He stopped right in his tracks when he realized he didn’t have them either. “What- how did you get my keys? They were right..?” His gaze fell on the cabinet.

“Yeah, on the cabinet. I know. You really should keep a better eye on your things.” She turned to face him, giving him a little fake pout.

She’d swiped them while they were looking at the computer screen. She knew they would never let them tag along, but there was no way she would just let them investigate while she sat here. She hadn’t come all this way just to not see things through.

“You should probably leave, by the way. It takes about 6 hours to walk to the port, so if you start now…” She faked looking at her watch. “…you might get there before nightfall.”

“You cannot be serious right now.” Dick huffed, crossing his arms. He looked awfully embarrassed to have been swindled so easily. The sight made her smile.

“Look, let’s compromise. You let us come, and we promise to stay in the car. And I’ll drive you, of course. Unless you want to walk there, that is?” She glanced at the two men, who could do nothing but stare at her in disbelief. “Tick-tock, boys.”

Dick raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t even like driving.”

“Maybe I like being called Maverick or Smokes after all.” She shrugged, giving a sly smile. Sabia, despite not fully understanding what was going on, looked quietly impressed from her seat on the couch.

Tim was the first to break, sighing loudly and dropping his head. “Fine, fine. We have a deal. You two can stay in the car. Happy?”

She gave him a wide, full-teeth smile. “Perfectly so.”

Dick’s gaze was still fixed on her. He somehow looked both utterly furious and impressed by the little trick she’d just pulled. If he wanted a dumb secretary, then maybe he should have just kept Sarah.

Despite both men’s pleas and promises that they wouldn’t leave them behind, she refused to hand over the car keys. She wasn’t sure they’d let them come if they got their hands on them, and she didn’t want to run the chance of losing the advantage she’d fought so hard to get. The two men spent the rest of the afternoon planning the rescue operation, hushing secretly and glancing at Smokes and Sabia from time to time. But that didn’t bother her in the slightest; she didn’t want to know everything, she just wanted to witness the moment Sabia and her son were reunited. All they were willing to tell them was that they would call the police once they were sure the place had been secured.

They headed out right before nightfall, opting to use Tim’s less battered car. It was a new, shiny black car, and the young man mumbled a little “Please don’t wreck it” before sitting in the backseat with Sabia.

The ride was relatively silent, Dick and Tim mentally going over what they had to do. They had both changed into different clothes, all-black suits that - she assumed - would allow them to lurk in the shadows. They were oddly sophisticated for two private investigators. Then again, if Dick was truly as good as Sabia believed him to be, then it made sense. The metahuman crisis had been raging for nearly ten years, assuming he’d been at it for a while, he’d probably made a name for himself. It wasn’t entirely unbelievable it was just… odd. Yes, it was odd that two sons of one of the world’s richest billionaires were private investigators risking their lives every day to save metahumans. Wasn’t on her bingo for the year, that’s for sure.

When they approached the port, Dick pointed to a secluded area hidden by the shadows, and told her to park the car there. Parking took her yet again a few attempts, but it wasn’t as bad as when they’d reached the Nest. Once they were parked, Dick gave both Smokes and Sabia a very solemn look.

“Alright, we let you come with us. But now it’s crucial that you stay in the car. Whatever you see, whatever you hear, do not leave this car. Understood?” He gave Smokes a particularly reproaching gaze, but she couldn’t retort. She simply gave him a small nod, Sabia following suit.

“Good. Let’s get moving then. We’ll be back soon.” Tim said as he opened the car’s door.

The two men pulled on some sort of black mask that she couldn’t quite make out from the car and then started tiptoeing toward the warehouse. Smokes and Sabia watched as they crouched behind a few stacks of crates, seemingly inspecting the area and looking for potential threats, before they eventually reached the door and slipped inside. After that, complete silence.

Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. Then thirty.

She started to worry. No sound came from the warehouse. No explosion, no shots, no nothing. She’d expected some sort of fight, at the very least. And shouldn’t they have called the police by now? Sabia was growing impatient with each passing minute, biting on her nails anxiously as her eyes darted back and forth in the dark.

Finally, after nearly forty minutes had gone by, somebody emerged from the shadows. Smokes’ face lit up, thinking it was Dick or even Tim but… no. It wasn’t either of them. It was one of the perps, a tall, muscular man with cropped blond hair. He was wearing a metal mask, as well as some sort of metal arm, and he was pushing a small figure in front of him. One that she couldn’t quite make out but-

“Gregory!” Sabia exclaimed from the backseat, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. It was her son. The family resemblance was shocking.

They watched as the man kept pushing him towards another part of the port. They were about to disappear out of their line of sight when Sabia said “Absolutely not.” and opened the car’s door.

“Sabia, no!” She whisper-yelled, but it was too late. The Markovian woman had already launched herself out of the car and was sprinting towards her son. Smokes cursed. Shit. Sabia was never going to manage to fight off that man. He was armed and physically much stronger than her. This was going to end in tragedy.

She sighed, grabbing her purse and rummaging to find her taser. She tested it a few times. It was still working fine. Good. She would need every weapon at her disposal to get out of this alive. She prayed to some unknown Gods to look out for her one last time and then hopped out of the car.

She was much more cautious than Sabia had been, trying to imitate Tim and Dick’s movements as she tiptoed from one stack of crates to another. She waited a few seconds, looking for any signs of suspicious movements or footsteps, but it was all quiet. She needed to reach Sabia as quickly as possible, before she did anything dumb.

She turned right, where she’d seen Sabia disappear and looked around. She couldn’t see anyone. She let her feet guide her towards the water. Still no sign of anyone. Where had they gone?

“Looking for someone?” A strong, male voice boomed from behind. She turned with a start, eyes widening in horror as she took in the scene.

The man was holding Sabia with one arm, Gregory with the other, with his gun pointed at the young woman’s temple. Sabia was clawing at his arm, eyes pleading to let go, but he was immovable. Gregory was staring at his mother, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. She couldn’t make out the man’s expression beneath his mask, but from the glint in his eye, she was fairly certain he was smirking. His eyes dropped to the taser in her hand.

“Ah, so you’re the famous Taser, then? I’ve heard quite a lot about you today. You certainly gave our men a run for their money. Especially poor Klaus. Being tased hurts like a bitch, I’ll give him that.”

She didn’t dare move or even breathe funny. One wrong move and she knew Sabia’s brains would be splattered on the floor.

“What? Not so chatty anymore? Cat got your tongue? I heard from my good friend Slade that you quite like running your mouth. I thought you were all talk with that taser of yours, but I guess not.”

She shrugged, voice shaking. “I use it when necessary.”

“Ah. A woman who knows when to strike and when to stand down. Smart girl.” He tightened his hold on Gregory, causing the little boy to yelp. “How did a smart girl like you end up entangled with Grayson and his team of buffoons?”

“It’s a family business, from what I’ve gathered.”

The man paused at that. She saw his eyes narrow in confusion, and then their usual smirking glint was back. “Ah. So maybe you’re not that smart after all. You don’t really know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

She refused to reply to that. He was clearly taunting her, trying to get her to turn on Dick and Tim. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She owed it to Sabia. She kept slyly glancing at Sabia and Gregory, the arms caging them with so much brute force, and the gun held to Sabia’s temple. She needed to find a way out of it.

“Well, allow me to introduce myself, then. I’m Sportsmaster. I run this operation. And I don’t appreciate vigilante wannabes interfering with my work.”

“That’s just too bad.” She shook her head. “Too fucking bad.”

“Curse one more time, and I will shoot the woman. I dare you.”

She tightened her hold on her taser. There was no way she could reach Sportsmaster and tase him without putting Sabia in danger. It was just impossible. She would need a true miracle to distract him long enough. She needed to say something, confuse him, slyly get closer to him, and strike.

“I don’t-”

A loud crackling noise erupted suddenly, Sportmaster’s body convulsing as his eyes bulged out in surprise. He quickly lost hold of his gun and of the two Markovians, and fell forward with a big thud. Behind him, Dick was standing with a proud smile on his face, a taser in his right hand. He weighed the small device, observing it with a sly eye.

“Ok, I think I get the appeal now.”

Sabia ran straight to Gregory, hugging him with all her might as the little boy started crying as well. They started whispering sweet things to each other, things Smokes decided not to listen to. It was a private conversation between mother and son that didn’t regard her in the slightest.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Two hours later, the port was full of police cars and officers running back and forth, gathering perps, evidence, and reassuring metahuman victims. The Justice League had also been contacted, but Smokes didn’t know when they’d show up or who they’d send. (She wasn’t familiar with most superheroes, they didn’t have many in Europe.)

Dick and Tim had found more traffickers than anticipated, and it had taken them a while to clear them all and find the kidnapped metahumans. The fight must have been intense, because a long gash ran down Dick’s cheek, and he was covered in dirt and sweat from head to toe. But at least he was safe. Some perps swore they’d seen Nightwing and Red Robin, but she seriously doubted the veracity of those statements, especially since Dick had assured her he hadn’t seen either of the vigilantes. When Dick had realized Sportsmaster had disappeared, he’d quickly realized what was going on and had rushed to find them. They’d been lucky he’d arrived when he had, that she couldn’t deny.

They’d been asked to step away from the crime scene by the police and were thus observing everything from one of the ambulances, leaning on its side while Dick pressed a wet cotton swab on his cheek. A chilling breeze picked up, and she rubbed her arms with her hands. It was now well past one in the morning, and the port was particularly freezing. Winter was on its way.

The two kept observing the scene in silence, watching as parents reunited with their children and cried tears of joy at their freedom. Sabia and Gregory, in particular, were cuddled up together in a corner, and the mother practically hissed at anybody who tried to approach her son. The sight almost made her smile.

She felt Dick’s stare on her and turned around to face him. His blue eyes looked tranquil, and there was a serene smile painted on his lips. He looked so handsome like this, messy black hair resting on his forehead, face bathed in the moonlight. Her chest tightened just barely.

“What?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. You… You did well today, Smokes.”

She blinked in surprise. “Really? I wrecked your car and disagreed with you about just everything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well… if you hadn’t wrecked the car, we wouldn’t be alive. And if today went as smoothly as it did, it’s mostly thanks to you. Sabia was able to reunite with her son, and all these metahumans were saved. You can be proud of yourself.”

She didn’t know what to answer to that. For the first time in a while, she was at a loss for words. The look in Dick’s eyes was so… genuine, so truly proud of her, and she couldn’t really figure out why this man who barely knew her cared so much. About her, about Sabia, about the metahumans… about others.

She wasn’t sure she was kind and generous enough to dedicate all of her life to others. Even when she’d been a researcher, the work she did was for herself first and foremost. She did what she loved, looked for answers to be able to say “I did this”, to be remembered. The consequences on the rest of the world mattered little.

For a long time, she’d thought she was a selfish person. Maybe she still was. After all, she’d agreed and begged to help because doing these things gave her a much-needed rush of adrenaline. But, perhaps, what she hadn’t realized was that the rush of adrenaline came from helping others, not from the adventure itself.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” Dick said, throwing the cotton swab in the ambulance’s bin.

“Last I checked, I’m the one with keys here.” She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

He looked at her, incredulous, and started laughing. “You like driving way too much for a bad driver.”

They started walking away together, shoulders slightly brushing each other.

“Maybe I like it when you call me Smokes and Maverick.”

“Maybe I’ll continue, then.”

“Maybe you should.”

Chapter Text

So maybe his comment about the appeal of tasers had been a tad cheeky. He better than anyone else knew the appeal of tasers; after all, the ones incorporated in his escrima sticks were always of the latest high-tech, and he did maintenance every few months to avoid any bad surprises on the field.

Still. He hadn’t been able to help himself. The fact that Smokes’ weapon of choice were tasers, that Sportsmaster himself had called her “Taser” had cracked him up to no end. She was no ordinary secretary or personal assistant. She was something else entirely. And he desperately wanted to know how someone as stubborn, strong-willed, and smart as her had ended up working a dummy job in Gotham.

The rescue operation at the port had been… complicated. Tim and Dick hadn’t been able to slip into their superhero suits until they were inside the warehouse, away from Smokes and Sabia, and even then they’d run the risk of being spotted. And then, of course, when he’d found that Sportsmaster and Gregory were missing, Dick had been forced to change back into his civilian camouflage suite so that he wouldn’t give away his identity.

The only thing bothering him about the whole adventure was the way he’d been forced to lie to Smokes. He didn’t like it, not one bit. The young woman had put her life on the line multiple times, had called him and then driven him to safety, had reassured Sabia, and reunited her with her son, and she didn’t even get to know the truth. The whole truth, about who he was and what he did. There was no other choice, he knew that telling her would put her in danger, but that didn’t mean he thought it was fair to her. She’d essentially risked her life solely based on a lie, and it didn’t sit right with him.

Once he’d taken Smokes home - or, rather, she’d driven herself home and then tossed him the keys rather unceremoniously before heading up to her apartment - Dick had returned to the crime scene. He’d called Artemis to warn her of her dad’s arrest in the car, which had earned him a groan from Jason and a sleepy “I’m on my way” from the former. That had been a long, long night, especially when Justice Leaguers had started piling in. Batman, Superman, Green Arrow… and when they’d eventually decided to move Sportsmaster to the Justice Hall in Washington D.C to further interrogate him, Dick had only sighed and followed along.

Dick and Tim had stayed with Cass - Wondergirl but most importantly Tim’s girlfriend - for the following week, meeting up at the Hall every day to follow the progress of the interrogation. Which was a waste of time, because Lawrence Crook was an absolute vault, to everybody’s deepest regrets. Artemis, in particular, did not look happy to have to deal with one of her father’s shenanigans yet again.

He spent the week pondering over the events that had occurred, particularly on what to do with Smokes. Technically, there was nothing to do. She’d been caught up in the whole thing by accident, but her job was still first and foremost at the Wayne Entreprises offices, fake or not. He couldn’t just take a civilian on investigations with him when it suited him. He couldn’t keep putting her in danger like that. Since he’d taken the time to get to know her, she’d almost gotten killed three times - four, if he counted the time the old man had threatened her with a gun. It would be terribly unfair of him to drag her, an innocent bystander, into his dangerous and reckless world. If anything happened to her because of him, he would never forgive himself.

And so he’d decided not to do anything. She would go back to her normal (albeit fake) job, and he would go back to investigating and moonlighting as Nightwing, and all would be well.

His resolution lasted a grand total of three (3!) days after they got back from D.C.

The mid-October chill had finally settled over Gotham, and Dick had been forced to dig for his autumn coat in the closet. He stopped by his favorite coffee shop, tipping generously as usual (the one thing Bruce’s money was useful for), and then drove to the Nest. His car was still in repairs at the mechanics, so he’d borrowed one from Bruce to get around. He wasn’t a great driver, but as long as he didn’t get himself into any car chases, he probably wouldn’t wreck this one.

He reached the Nest and went up the stairs, surprised to find Tim sprawled on the floor, inspecting countless papers in front of him. Well, it technically wasn’t an unusual sight, there were flying papers in every nook and cranny of the apartment but-

“Why are all these papers in Chinese?” He asked his brother, incredulous, as he bent down to pick one up and inspect it.

“It’s Japanese, Dickhead. Got these from Kaldur a few hours ago. His mission in Tokyo with Bart and Jaime is not going well. They found these files in a Yakuza warehouse, and were surprised to find a connection with the Light.” Tim explained while flipping through some more pages.

“Ok? What does this have to do with us?”

“They mention quite a few Gotham addresses. Here, I made a list of those I found so far. They stand out because they’re the only non-Japanese characters.” Dick grabbed the sheet Tim was handing him and started reading.

“These just look like random, ordinary addresses.”

“They are. I checked. No suspicious activity, no chemical imbalances, nothing. So now I’m trying to translate the documents themselves to figure out what is going on. And it’s not going well.”

Dick snorted, shrugging off his coat and crouching besides Tim. “Have you tried Google Translate? Deepl? Literally any translator on the inter- ow!” He cried when Tim threw a pen in his face.

“Yes, smartass, I have tried. But this is all scientific jargon, so the result is… less than satisfactory. Take a look.” He threw another paper in his general direction.

Dick started reading. Then paused. Then frowned. “I think I just had a stroke. These sentences make absolutely no sense. “Quantum particle matched with pairing hydrogen and kryptonite creates non-conclusive yet explosive reaction” What does this even mean?”

“Welcome to the club, Grandpa. I can’t figure these out. I’m starting to think I’m illiterate. We need someone who actually speaks Japanese.”

Dick started thinking. “I guess I could try to see if Asami Koizumi is available. But she’s been busy with the Outsiders lately, and I don’t know where she is stationed right now.”

“Actually, I have someone in mind. Someone who’s in Gotham, not far from here. And who definitely isn’t busy right now.”

“Really? Who?”

Tim smirked. “Your assistant.”

Dick blinked. Then snorted, throwing Tim’s pen back at him. “She speaks Markovian, not Japanese, you buffoon.”

“Actually, she speaks both. And more. I ran a background check on her.” Tim stood up and walked - or, well, slalomed between stray sheets of paper - to his computer, sitting in his chair and turning on the screen. A picture of Smokes appeared instantly. It looked like some sort of vacation picture with friends. She looked younger, more carefree, happier. She was smiling. He had yet to see her smile like that. Actually, he’d never truly seen her happy. She always looked exasperated and overall unhappy with everyone.

Dick sighed, trying to walk to the desk without stepping on any papers. “Why would you run a background check on her?”

“What? You weren’t curious?”

“I respect her privacy.”

“I thought we’d foregone that concept in our family.”

“Tim.” Dick warned, voice laced with irritation.

“Fine, fine. I didn’t run the background check myself, Alfred did. She’s not even American, did you know that? I would have never guessed. Her dad is some top-shot military officer. Stellar career, Lieutenant rank, the whole shebang. He was deployed all over the world, and the family followed. Her resume is perhaps the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. Did you know she studied at-”

“Ok, Tim, I get the gist of it. No need to do a character deep dive. She can tell us those things herself, when, and, most importantly, if she feels like it.”

Tim glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you sound so pissed off? She’s smart. She would be useful.”

“Yes, and we’d also be putting her in danger and lying to her face the entire time.” Dick ran a hand through his hair. He’d always hated when his personal life and his secret identity clashed. He didn’t like lying, especially to the people supposed to help him.

“That’s your issue? The lying? It’s literally our job.”

Dick groaned. “Yeah but… just, you know what, never mind. I’ll go get her. But please, for the love of god, tidy up this mess, ok?”

Tim gave him a wide, full-teeth smirk. “Goodie! Be back soon, Dickie-doo!”

Dick gave him the middle finger as he jumped around the room to avoid the scattered papers and grab his coat from the couch. Ever since Damian had started calling him Dickie-doo - insulting him at the ripe age of five - the whole family had also started using the nickname. It was infuriating. And somewhat vexing.

“Tidy up the mess, Tim!” He called as he went down the stairs and walked onto the street.

Dick opened the car door, sat in the driver’s seat and sighed. So much for not dragging Smokes into this mess. Hopefully, she’d be willing to help out. It’s not like she actually had anything better to do. He reached for his coffee but quickly realized he’d forgotten it upstairs. A few seconds later, as if on cue, his phone received a notification: a selfie of Tim drinking his coffee with the caption “use protection ;)”.

That little shit.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Tim created a new group.
Tim added Jason (meanie), Bart, Jamie, Alfred, Bruce, Artemis, Jason (Art's hot-ass husband), Cass, Kaldur, Babs, Zatana, Raquelle, M’gann, Conner, Garth, and Will.
Tim named the group “Dick has a crush!”

Jason (meanie): Tim. We talked about this. You can’t make a groupchat for every single thing that happens.

Bart: Who does Dick have a crush on??? I need the tea, STAT.

Jaime: Start asking the right questions, Jason. Dish out the goss pls Tim.

Alfred: Master Tim, I am not sure my presence in this groupchat is appropriate.

Bruce left the groupchat.
Tim added Bruce to the groupchat.
Bruce left the groupchat.

Tim: I’m not kidding! Dickie-doo has it down bad for his secretary!

Kaldur: Dick has a secretary? Since when?

Babs: Tim, do I really need to be a part of a groupchat regarding my ex’s new crush?

Raquelle: I second that.

Zatana: Me three.

M’gann: Awww, it’s cute that Dick finally likes someone!

Jason (meanie): His secretary? Really? Isn’t that like, highly inappropriate?

Tim: Shush, it’s a dummy job. She’s perfect for him.

Artemis: Wait, is this the girl who threatened to tase Slade?

Conner: #girlboss #slay #period

Garth: Conner, for the love of god, stop being such a boomer.
Jaime liked Garth’s message.
Bart liked Garth’s message.

M’gann: … we’re still working on the hashtags.

Tim: I’m telling you, this girl is perfect for him. He’s gaping at her like half of the time.

Artemis: Dick gapes at any breathing thing with boobs and an ass.
Zatana liked Artemis’ message.
Raquelle liked Artemis’ message.
Babs liked Artemis’ message.
M’gann liked Artemis’ message.
Cass liked Artemis’ message.

Will: I’m so confused right now.

Jason (Art's hot-ass husband): Same here, buddy, same here.

Tim: Ugh, you’re all impossible.

Cass: It’s ok, babe, you tried your best.

Kaldur: Why is no one else concerned about the fact Dick has a secretary? Why would he have a secretary? What is GOING ON?

Chapter Text

After a week of radio silence, the last thing she’d expected was to find Dick Grayson nonchalantly sitting at her desk - on her (!!) chair -, playing with random items he’d found in the drawers.

She didn’t know what she’d expected after everything that had gone down that day, but it certainly wasn’t the man’s disappearance. Seriously, she’d tased a criminal, gotten through a car chase, faced some psycho who called himself Sportsmaster (what kind of name was that anyways? What Sport was he master of? Why would he go with that of all things?), and she didn’t even get a call? Or at the very least a message, to ask if she was ok?

Especially given all the crap she’d had to put up with at the office in the aftermath of it all. People had seemingly forgotten all about the incident with Slade, and were now fully focused on how Dick Grayson had shown up only 30 minutes after she’d called. The words “slut”, “cunt”, and “whore” flew every time she walked by at an increasingly alarming rate. Sally had never seemed so happy and was most certainly the ringleader of the recent hate movement against her. Not only that but now that there was proof of their being close (which was insane and misconstructed and just a general poor interpretation of things), people had started playing pranks on her. Her lunch had gone missing twice, somebody had put chewing gum on her chair (and she HAD sat on it), her computer had been rebooted with Windows 5 (which had been a huge pain for IT to fix, and she was fairly certain she was on their blacklist now), an inch of one of her chair’s legs had been sliced off so it was completely crooked, all the letters on her keyboard had been switched and it had taken her a whole afternoon to put them back in place, her purse had disappeared for four hours before she found it in the trash… the list was endless. The worst thing was probably when someone (whom she suspected was Sally) had thrown used toilet paper in her stall while she was peeing. Or maybe it was Jessica who didn’t say hello anymore. She wasn’t sure.

So yes, she was a little mad, and she didn’t know if it was entirely normal to be mad at your fake boss for not checking up on you after he took you on the weirdest, most dangerous Gotham adventure of all time, which subsequently started an office hate bandwagon.

And now he had the gall to sit there acting like nothing was wrong. The nerve of that man.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as soon as she reached her desk, hands on hips and glare pointed at him. She did not have time for his shenanigans. Everybody in the office had probably already seen him waiting for her, and she couldn’t imagine what kind of pranks they’d come up with now.

“Your chair is crooked. There’s like an inch missing on the front-right leg. Did you know that?” He finally looked up from the pen he was playing with, a small smile dancing on his lips.

“I asked you a question.”

“I am technically your boss.” He continued to fiddle with some post-its he found lying around.

“Emphasis on the technically.”

“This is my office.”

“You don’t know anybody’s name here.”

“I know yours, Smokes.”

“My name is not Smokes.” She practically growled in indignation.

“My bad, I should have known you preferred Maverick.”

She sighed, exasperated. It was only 9 in the morning and she was already exhausted. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her, seemingly sensing her discomfort. “What is up with you? Are you in a rush or something?”

“Can’t you tell the whole office is staring at us right now?” She slyly nodded towards the rest of the floor, making Dick turn his head to take everybody in. As soon as his gaze settled on the rest of the employees, they all shifted away.

“Not a big fan of their boss?”

Christ. Was he really that dense that he didn’t understand what was going on? “People who actually work hard tend not to like dumb nepo baby bosses who drop in once a month for appearances.”

He looked slightly hurt by the statement, and she blinked in surprise. Shit. He looked like an innocent lamb when he was hurt, all big eyes and mouth tilted downwards. She knew that he wasn’t simply a dumb nepo baby who dropped in for appearances. He’d dedicated his whole life to helping and saving others. She, better than anyone at the office, knew that. How many times had he been accused of being a dumb heir? How many times had he had to keep his mouth shut about his real line of work?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she rushed out, mortified. “I know you’re not that, I just-”

“It’s ok. Really. You’re mad at me for other reasons, I get it.” He brushed her off with a smile that looked a little too toothy to be real.

“You could have called. Or at the very least sent a message to check up on me.”

Sally walked by right as she said those words, and she didn’t have to turn around to see the glare she gave her. Shit. Now the pranks were definitely going to get worse. Dick didn’t seem to notice anything, and she couldn’t help but think he was awfully dense for a PI.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. We ended up going to D.C. to deal with Sportsmaster, and that took longer than expected. But regardless, I should have called. I apologize.”

She ignored the apology. “Any luck with him?”

“Nothing. That man is a vault.”

“And what about Sabia? Are she and Gregory ok?”

He smiled. “Perfectly. They were relocated and are starting over. They have a house and all. It’s quite cozy.”

There was a small silence. Fine. He’d apologized, because he was a decent man and he knew when he was in the wrong. She should have known he wouldn’t have put up a fight about it. This man was so kind and selfless and she should have known he would immediately take the blame.

“What are you doing here?” She asked softly after a few beats. Given his radio silence, she’d assumed her adventures in Gotham were over. No more tasing and car chases and rescue operations and threatening criminals. Just the good old dummy job.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I- We need your help.”

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh?”

“We got a batch of documents this morning. But they’re in Japanese, so we need someone to translate them. You speak Japanese, from what I’ve been told?”

“I… yes. I do. I went to high school there. How… how did you know?”

He rubbed his neck sheepishly. He didn’t look particularly proud of his answer. “Tim said he read your resume. I didn’t, but he did because he was trying to think of someone to help.”

“Ah.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Why did he look so concerned about this? He was her boss, and he was a private investigator. It’s not like she wasn’t expecting him to run background checks on her. If he’d spoken to Alfred then he might even know why… her stomach hollowed out at that. She didn’t want to finish that though. “I can help you translate, there’s just something I don’t understand. Why don’t you use Google Translate or something like that? Do you really need a person to do it?”

“It’s all scientific jargon. We tried and the results were… not very clear, to put it nicely.”

Ah. So it wasn’t just that she spoke Japanese then. It was that she was a scientist. She hadn’t read a single research paper since she’d left Oxford. She felt like throwing up every time she tried. But Dick was looking at her with such expectant eyes, his blue gaze clear and tranquil and practically begging her to help, and she didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Alright. I’ll help. But on one condition.”

Dick smirked. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to ask for, Maverick.”

“I drive.”

She extended her hand to him, the other resting on her hip, palm wide and eyes focused. Dick glanced at her hand, then at her face, the shit-eating grin never leaving his mouth. And slowly, he took the car keys out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. He then closed her fingers around it, blue eyes fixed intently on her brown while doing so.

“This is Bruce’s car. Don’t wreck it.”

“I make no promises.”

5 minutes later, they were in his car driving to the Nest, and she’d never been happier to leave that office in her life. Everybody had glared at them as they walked out, especially after their little key exchange (where she’d completely forgotten about their audience, curse her), and she sincerely hoped this translation would take her enough time that they’d forget about it. She seriously doubted it would, but a girl could dream, right?

The streets of Gotham were peaceful today, with no car chases or active shootings, and driving was surprisingly soothing. She’d never particularly liked driving, but she was starting to understand the appeal. The radio was playing softly in the background, Taylor Swift’s Getaway Car playing in the background. Dick was looking straight ahead, and the serene face could have almost fooled her if it wasn’t for the anxious tapping of his fingers on the car door.

He was the first to break the silence. “So, Markovian and Japanese huh?”

“Yup.” She nodded and turned right. People were always shocked to learn about all the languages she spoke.

“You said your dad was in the military, is that right? Is that why you speak so many languages?”

“Yeah. He’s a Lieutenant General now. He was deployed a bit all over the world and we always went with him, so we ended up learning quite a few languages on the way.”

“What else do you speak?”

She turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “Have you seriously not read my resume?”

“I haven’t, I told you. I respect your privacy. I’d rather hear it from you. If you want to share, that is.” She didn’t think he was lying, the look in his eyes was too genuine for him to be lying. He really was just a kind man.

She sighed. “Italian. French. Spanish. A little Chinese.”

He cursed. “Christ. That’s seven. You’re not American, right?”

The joke almost made her smile. Almost. She hadn’t smiled in so long that she wasn’t sure her muscles remembered how to do it. “Nope. Both my parents are Italian. We lived in San Francisco when I was a kid, so I picked up English there.”

“I see. I guess that explains a few things.” She shrugged in response. “But still, what I don’t get is how you ended up working at Wayne Entreprises. What did you do before?”

She bit her lip. Christ. This man seriously had no clue what he was digging up right now. “I… I was a researcher.”

There was a small pause, and Smokes glanced at Dick to make sure he was still alive. The man was staring at her in disbelief. His whole body shifted in his seat to better face her, blue eyes wide like saucers while he stared at her face. “As in… university researcher? Post-doctorate degree and all?”

“Huh… yeah. I have a PhD.”

Dick looked even more flabbergasted than before. His voice jumped an octave. “In what?”

“Quantum physics.”

He cursed. “You cannot be serious right now. You have a doctorate in Quantum physics? You’re telling me you’re a Doctor? Doctor Smokes?”

“Have you seriously not read my resume? Like at all?” She turned her head to him. Dick looked half shell-shocked half horrified half confused.

“No! I told you! Quantum physics? How-” A thought seemingly hit him, and his blue eyes widened in bewilderment. “Hold on, you were a researcher in Oxford? As in, Oxford University?”

She winced. Yikes. She had told him she used to live in Oxford. He wasn’t a private investigator for nothing. She did not like where this conversation was headed. “...yes.”

He blinked some more. It looked like he was going to be perplexed for a long while. “Let me see if I got this right. You’re telling me that you left your researcher job at Oxford University to work a dummy job at Wayne Entreprises?”

The sentence made her physically cringe. It never sounded great in her head, but it sounded even worse when people said it out loud. “Yes. That would be correct.”

“Why?” His voice was laced with perplexity, his eyebrows furrowed tightly. She almost felt like a mystery he was trying to solve, a crooked piece of a puzzle he didn’t know where to put or how to use. She didn’t know if she liked it or not.

“I needed a change of scenery.” The familiar lie was almost too easy to tell. So many people asked, and this was always the shitty, terrible answer she gave.

Dick snorted. “If you needed a change of scenery, then you could have gone to another university to do your research. Gotham University isn’t too shabby. But you didn’t just leave Oxford University, you left the whole field. So why?”

Well. Shit. Nobody had ever put it like that. He was right, per usual. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to come up with some decent excuse. She didn’t even know what to reply anymore. This conversation had gone way off script. It was uncharted territory, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. “It’s… It’s complicated.” She admitted because that was all her tongue could muster up at the moment.

She’d never managed to say it out loud. Not to her parents. Not to her brother. Not to her friends. No one. Sure, most of the faculty knew, and she’d consulted a few lawyers on the matter, but she’d never quite managed to say the words. Her heart pounded in her chest and her throat felt dry just at the thought of saying it. Of admitting her failure.

Even if she wanted to tell Dick - and she didn’t -, she wasn’t sure she was physically capable of doing so.

Dick seemingly sensed her discomfort, his face going back to his usual - albeit slightly concerned - demeanor. “Ah. I see.” If he was more curious about the truth, he didn’t let it show, and she was eternally thankful that he wasn’t pushing it.

“I’m aware it’s… unconventional.” She was desperate to say something that made sense, something that would ease his suspicions.

He cracked a smile. “To say the least. What do your colleagues think about all this?”

Smokes abruptly braked to a halt, for two reasons: firstly, because they had finally arrived in front of the Nest, and secondly, because how did he keep hitting the jackpot like this? The car ride had lasted barely 20 minutes, and he’d pretty much asked her about all the awkward and embarrassing things in her life. And how was he so goddamn dense? He’d been in the office multiple times by now, how did he not sense the tension surrounding her? How did he not see the pure hatred and jealousy in her coworker’s eyes? This man was truly a mystery.

“We’re here.” She decided to ignore his question. There was no way they were going to have the “the whole office thinks I’m your personal whore” conversation right now. She proceeded to park the car on the street, which only took her four awkward back and forths which was a personal record at this point. Maybe she wasn’t so bad at this driving thing after all.

If Dick noticed she deflected his question, he didn’t say. They both stepped out of his car, Dick leading her inside the building, hands in his pockets and whistling some soft tune. He was awfully cheerful for a man who’d given up in the face of Google Translate. They went up the stairs, and she was surprised to find how much her body relaxed in the Nest. Despite only having been there once, she instantly felt at ease, as if the place itself could soothe her and make her forget all her worries.

Dick opened the door to the apartment wide open, calling out for his brother. “Tim, I’m back with- Jesus, Tim, didn’t I tell you to tidy this mess? I can’t even see the floorboard anymore!”

She peeked her head from behind him, and was surprised to find the biggest mess she’d ever seen in her life. Sure, the Nest hadn’t been particularly clean and organized the last time she’d come (and she suspected it never really was), but this was a whole new level. There were papers everywhere, spread out in no logical manner, post-its flying around, translations printed out, sheets with words crossed then uncrossed then crossed again, pictures hanging from the desk and chairs, an empty cup of coffee lying on some buried coffee table, and a-

“Christ, Tim, why is your laundry drying on my chair?” Dick exclaimed, horrified, as he hopped around the mess as best as he could to grab the pair of underwear on said chair and throw it in his brother’s face. He was unusually graceful for a man of his build.

“I just did a load and there was no more place on the rack!” He grabbed the underwear swiftly, before it hit him in the face, and she was once again stunned by his reflexes.

These men were rich, smart, and agile. Not to mention she’d seen the Vogue photoshoot, she knew what they had under those sweaters. Life really was unfair sometimes.

Tim turned to face her, giving her a big, toothy grin. “Hi, Maverick! I’m so happy you agreed to help out, Dickie-doo has been a little bitch and I- ow, stop throwing my underwear at me!”

The two started bickering in a way that reminded her painfully of her own brother. She hadn’t heard from Eric in at least a month, and she knew it was her fault. He’d done the best he could to convince their parents that she was fine and that moving to Gotham was a completely sane and rational choice, but even he didn’t really get it, and she knew that her unwillingness to share the truth with him had hurt him. She’d tried to explain that he wasn’t the problem, she was, and that she wasn’t able to tell anyone, but her mouth had the tendency to shut down when important conversations were about to happen. She promised herself to call him soon and decided to quietly watch them have their little fight.

Eventually - after Dick had thrown at least 5 different pairs at Tim - the two managed to settle down and remembered she was still there.

“Ready to work?” Tim asked, preparing a stack of papers for her.

Dick was staring at her from the other side of the room, big blue expectant eyes challenging her, staring into her soul. It scared her a little, the idea that he might be able to read her, that he might be able to figure it all out. She knew that if she kept helping them, if she decided to go down this path, then he would inevitably find out.

But she also realized she didn’t care all that much.

“I was born ready.”

Chapter Text

To say Dick felt like an asshole was an understatement. Perhaps the understatement of the century.

The first thing he’d done once he was sure Smokes was fully immersed in her translation was read her resume. And yeah, Tim wasn’t exaggerating when he’d said it was the most impressive resume he’d ever seen. Physics Degree at the Sorbonne in Paris, then both a Masters and a Ph.D. at Oxford, not to mention dozens of internships in prestigious research labs and other activities. Smokes was an academic weapon, there was no doubt about that.

Which begged the question: What was she doing here now?

How had someone as smart as she ended up working a dummy job at Wayne Entreprises? She was way, way, way overqualified for the position of personal assistant, let alone fake personal assistant. Her talent, her intelligence, and her hard work were very clearly wasted, and he couldn’t understand how it had all happened. Dick didn’t for a second doubt her innocence; Alfred had run multiple background checks, and even if he hadn’t, he trusted her. Smokes wasn’t a criminal, she was just someone who’d been forced to quit a field she’d dedicated her whole life to.

She’d said it was complicated, and from experience, that could mean just about a thousand different things. All he could say with certainty was that it hadn’t been a choice, she’d been forced to leave. She was running from something, and he desperately wanted to know what it was.

Dick was torn: the detective part of him wanted to dig into the issue, figure out what had happened. It probably wouldn’t take him very long either, he was sure Alfred already knew. But the other part of him, the human part, wanted to wait for her to open up. For her to tell him herself, to wish to do so. Which was insane, because they were nowhere near close enough for her to share something like this, and maybe they never would. They probably never would. His brain was running in circles, and he wasn’t quite sure he was following the logic of it all.

Smokes had immediately gotten to work: they’d cleared up some papers to make space for them to sit on the floor, and then she’d started organizing everything and tidying up the mess. Once she’d finally managed to gather the first 200 pages of research, she’d started the translation.

She’d timidly warned them that she hadn’t read any scientific papers in a while and that she might be rusty. She’d even apologized, and Dick had never seen her so flustered and embarrassed. She was normally so composed and confident, and the unusual sight had surprised him. Yet despite her second of wavering confidence, that did not deter her from doing her job. Dick sat next to her and essentially did everything she asked. Gave her papers, pens, opened Google Translate for a specific word, reorganized the papers, went to look for a picture… whatever she said was law.

They thus worked in tandem for hours, Dick only taking a break to discreetly read her resume in the bathroom (and truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he was so shocked, she was the woman who had managed to uncover a contract scam while working the most mindnumbing job in the history of jobs, he always knew she was smart) and then coming back to resume the labor.

So far, the results of the translation hadn’t shed much light on the mystery. Smokes could confidently say these were plans for special devices, boxes filled with chemicals and technological components that were supposed to cause a reaction.

She grabbed a paper to show them a list. “See the addresses here? That’s where they want to plant the boxes. And if you look at the map,” she had marked all the addresses in Gotham on the map, drawing a huge red circle to connect them, “you can see that they essentially cover all of Gotham.”

“Ok, but what are they for? Why do they want to plant them all over Gotham?” Tim asked while inspecting the map.

“I have no clue. The first 20 pages are missing, and I’m assuming that they explain the exact purpose. I can’t really say just by reading the components of the boxes, it’s too vague.”

“Can you make an educated guess?” Dick asked. Smokes paused, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration.

“Well, given the composition, it would seem to be some kind of… force field. But it could also just be explosives. There’s also a lot of alien chemicals that scientists don’t know enough about to be able to predict exactly what they’ll do when mixed, so I can’t say anything for certain.”

They kept working relentlessly until the evening. As soon as Dick noticed Smokes yawning, attempting to hide the gesture in her sleeve, he decided it was time to call it quits for the day. She tried to complain at first, saying she could keep translating for a little while longer, but for once he won the argument. They would keep translating the next day. And in the meantime, unbeknownst to Smokes, Nightwing and Red Robin would be able to investigate the different addresses and look for the boxes.

He took Smokes home - or, to be precise, she drove herself home and then tossed him Bruce’s car keys - then returned to the Nest to suit up and start investigating with Tim.

They warned Bruce and Jason that they wouldn’t be patrolling with them, and the two answered with a thumbs up and promised to reorganize patrols for the night. Damian stole Alfed’s phone to tell them they were idiots and they better not end up dead, and these messages were followed by Alfred’s apology and promise to ground the young master.

Despite being only eight years old, Damian was already a little ball of spitfire. He’d been living at the manor for 4 years, and despite the limited time he’d spent with his mother and grandfather, the criminals had left their mark on him. A mark they were all trying their best to erase, with mixed results.

Nightwing and Red Robin started with the first address, a residential building in southern Gotham. They searched the place thoroughly, inspecting the surrounding sewers, and even the creepy basements, and even background-checking all its inhabitants. Nothing. No sign of criminal activity or the box or anything of the sort.

Address after address, Nightwing searched all the buildings. Apartments, houses, warehouses, shops… nothing yielded results. There was no sign of the mysterious boxes or the Japanese yakuza. Whoever was planning this had been particularly meticulous, and this whole ordeal was starting to worry him.

He was about to head home when he received a call from Kaldur.

“Nightwing here. What’s up old man?” He smiled while jumping from roof to roof, back to his apartment, and most importantly his bed. Red Robin was instead heading out to his own place, where Cassie was staying for a few days trip.

“You’re only two years younger, Grayson, the old age is going to get to you too.”

“Ha! I seriously doubt that. You’ll be in a wheelchair and I’ll still be shaking my ass in spandex.”

He felt Kaldur smile through the line. “Glad to see you’re in high spirits. You’ve been down recently.”

Dick bit the inside of his cheek. He’d almost forgotten about Wally with everything that had happened in the last month. He didn’t think anybody had noticed his inner turmoil, but he should have known Kaldur was smarter than that. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Penis!” Bart’s voice called from afar, and Nightwing smiled at Kaldur’s sigh. He heard feet shuffling, and Kid Flash was now much closer to the microphone. “How are you, old dude? I heard you’ve had your hands full these past few weeks.”

“I think we all have. Capturing Sportsmaster gave us a lot of extra work. But you three wouldn’t know, since you’re all cooped up in Tokyo. How’s that going?”

Bart let out the most dramatic sigh in the history of sighs. “Terrible. Turns out, the yakuza are quite good at what they do. Not to mention, my stomach is not handling all the raw fish very well. And the alternative is Kaldur’s vegetarian stews, so I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, y’know?”

“Pee-pee!” This time it was Jaime’s voice. Nightwing heard a loud wet noise which he assumed was Jaime kissing his boyfriend and smiled under the mask.

When Jaime and Bart had come out of the closet, nobody had been surprised. Everybody had suspected them to be gay for a while, and it had been mostly just a question of when they’d officially tell them. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for them to declare that they were in love with each other and now a couple. Dick had accidentally hit his head against a cabinet when they’d told him in the Outsiders’ headquarters’ kitchen. When he’d first arrived, Bart had been obsessed with the idea that Blue Beetle would turn evil and destroy the world. He’d stalked poor Jaime day and night and declared multiple times that he did not trust him. So for them to get into a relationship? Dick had teased Bart for months until the young man had eventually thrown a shield in his face, knocking him out and effectively ending the joke.

“How you doing, Pee-pee? Heard you’ve been busy!” Jaime continued, followed by some shifting noise - maybe someone elbowing him? - and Jaime hissing a quiet “Ow!”. The comment gave him pause. Bart had just said something similar. What did they think he was doing?

“Just the usual.” He decided to brush it off. It was four in the morning, and he needed at least two or three hours of sleep if he was to continue translating with Smokes during the day. If he fell asleep while she worked, she would never let him live it down. “What’s up with you guys, any updates?”

“Yes, actually.” Kaldur spoke before Bart and Jaime could interject. “That’s why we called. Most of the gangs we were monitoring have left.”

“What do you mean they’ve left?”

“Disappeared, gone. Wherever they are, they’re no longer in Tokyo.”

“Shit. And you think they’ve come to Gotham?”

“It’s a possibility. Given the addresses on that document, they might be headed there to enact their plan. Have you had any luck translating it?”

“We’re working on it. So far, it seems to be the instructions to build some kind of chemical boxes. But we’re missing the first 20 pages, so we can’t figure out what they’re for. Red Robin and I went to investigate the addresses but nothing came up. We’ll keep translating in the morning and hopefully, we’ll find out something.”

“Alright, we’ll try to find the first 20 pages. Maybe that will help you out.” Bart replied, voice serious.

“Ok. As soon as we have something, I’ll call.”

“Same for us. Take care, Pee-pee.” Jaime’s nickname was terrible, but he was adamant about calling him that.

“You too, guys.” The call ended there.

Dick headed home, throwing himself in his bed as soon as he was out of his suit, and slept a record of four hours. He really needed to take a day off to catch up on sleep, he hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in at least a month. He showered, dressed up, and went to pick up Smokes at her apartment like they’d agreed.

When he arrived, he found the young woman already waiting for him at her building’s front door, arms crossed and face serious. She wasn’t wearing her usual office clothes and instead had opted for a pair of light jeans and a white sweater. Casual yet not too casual.

“The pencil skirt isn’t exactly comfortable when you have to sit on the floor.” She explained when she opened the driver’s door, effectively ejecting him from his seat and exiling him to the passenger’s side. He let her do it, of course. Who was he to deny her such a simple like driving?

Despite saying she was a terrible driver, Smokes actually wasn’t that bad at it. She’d gotten considerably better now that she’d been practicing, and even her parking skills had improved. Not to mention, the rides were smooth and somewhat pleasant. Dick had always been the one to drive, being the eldest brother and just generally assigned the duty on various missions, and he’d never realized the comfort of just sitting back and doing nothing. Smokes, on the other, liked being in control. Or so he suspected. It was the only explanation for her constant demands to drive.

When they arrived at the Nest, they resumed the previous day’s work immediately. Tim dropped in for a few minutes to check on their progress before leaving for a mission himself. He was taking the translated papers to some scientists they knew to see if they could figure something else out on that front.

Smokes was meticulous in her work, organizing papers in different piles and keeping track of everything with efficiency. Dick didn’t mind being bossed around and doing what he was told, especially when she looked so focused and almost serene. He’d never seen her like that and briefly wondered if that was what she’d been like when she’d been doing research.

They took a small lunch break, ordering some sandwiches from the coffee shop down the road, and then continued to work. Somewhere along the way, she put her hair in a ponytail to stop it from getting in her face. Smokes was finally starting to see the whole picture, but there were still many unclear things.

The pair was sitting on the floor, legs crisscrossed and papers lying everywhere, both in front of them, behind them, and resting on random furniture in the room. They had officially reached a Tim-level chaos.

“Ok, the boxes are definitely to create a force field. Look, here and here. They’re connected thanks to this added device, and this chemical compound they share.”

“How does that even work?”

“Huh… think of it like Bluetooth. When one box is activated, it causes a chain reaction, and all the boxes activate too. And look, once they’re all activated, it creates a force field.”

“So someone wants to create a force field over Gotham? Why?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe to stop someone from leaving the city. Or to stop them from getting in. But see, what I don’t get is this passage.” She pointed to a passage she’d been stuck on for the past half hour. “It talks about small bubbles composing the force field. These bubbles are filled with more alien chemicals, and I’m not sure what they do.”

Dick read her translation thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s to make sure nobody tampers with the field?”

“Maybe.” She hummed, but she didn’t look particularly convinced. “Look, I don’t doubt your capacities as a private investigator, but huh… isn’t this more up the Justice League’s alley? You’re a PI, not a superhero. This could be a serious issue. Where did you even get these documents anyway?”

Dick winced. Shit. It was true that this was a tad too complex for a simple PI. Then again, he’d busted a metahuman warehouse as a simple PI, she shouldn’t have been too surprised. As much as he wanted to come clean, he couldn’t tell her the truth. She didn’t yet have the clearance, and it would only further endanger her. Smokes was a person who’d clearly gone through a lot, who’d been hurt, and had somehow landed the weirdest job in history to run away. He couldn’t give her more to worry about.

“I… have contacts, in the Justice League. They asked us to look into it. They’re probably also investigating, but it’s an all-hands-on-deck type of situation.”

She frowned at that. “The Justice League asks you to investigate for them?”

From the tone of her voice, he could tell she was not buying it for a second. “Yes. It’s a complicated network of people, y’know?”

“Right. Sure. But still, I-” A ringtone interrupted her sentence, and Dick instantly started looking for his phone. Kaldur, Bart, and Jaime had promised they’d call if they had any news after all.

After patting his pockets front and back, he looked around the room and finally spotted the device on the coffee table. To his surprise, however, it wasn’t ringing. The screen was pitch black. He turned to Smokes, confused, and found the young woman reaching for her own phone. She frowned as soon as she saw who the caller was, something Dick thought was rather peculiar. Her body grew tense, the air in the room growing thicker. He watched as she bit her lip, furrowing her eyebrows some more, before decidedly refusing the call, silencing her phone and putting it back in her pocket.

“I was saying, I-”

“Who was that?” Dick couldn’t stop himself from asking. Her reaction had been too strange. Something was off.

Smokes blinked. “No one.” She only hesitated half a second, but that was enough for him to know she was lying.

“You didn’t look very pleased.”

He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by pushing her. But there were also too many mysteries surrounding this woman, and he wanted to figure at least one out before the end of the day. One mystery, and he’d be happy.

Smokes, however, was set on not revealing anything. The two stared at each other, blue eyes meeting brown, trying to decipher them, in vain. His breath stilled as he watched her take a small step back from him, as if physically recoiling from his observation.

“It was no one.” Her tone was bitter, tense, firm, lips pressed and shoulders tense.

He tried again. He wasn’t letting this go. “Is someone bothering you?”

“No. I told you, it was no one.”

“I have trouble believing that.”

“Well, that’s your problem then, not mine.” She practically glared at him.

Dick started thinking. Who could want to bother Smokes? She was a little standoffish sometimes and didn’t seem to trust people easily, but she was also kind and selfless, despite what she thought of herself. She’d put her life on the line multiple times to help others. He couldn’t fathom anybody who wouldn’t like her. Was it somebody from Oxford? Or somebody in Gotham?

Now that he thought about it… “Is it someone from work?”

Smokes blinked in surprise, and her shoulders visibly relaxed. She chuckled dryly. “No, it’s not someone from work.” The tone of her voice had also calmed down. He hadn’t guessed who was calling her, but he had a feeling he was about to uncover something else.

“Why do you find the assumption so funny? You’ve been gone for two days, surely your colleagues must be wondering where you are.”

Smokes chuckled some more, a small and wry smile painted on her face. It wasn’t like the carefree smile he’d seen in that picture of her from years back; it was strained, ironic. “I really doubt they miss me.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah? You don’t get along?”

“To put it mildly.”

“Why?”

She looked away, starting to rearrange some of the papers on the floor. “Let’s just say… people who actually do work don’t appreciate people who get paid to do nothing all day.”

Dick winced. Well, he could definitely see that. He probably would have been pretty pissed off too. Still, she’d been working there for over a year, surely they’d warmed up to her by now. “That’s a little extreme. They hate you just for that?”

Her hands stilled. “Yes.” Liar.

“That was the worst attempt at a lie I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a few.”

“I’m not lying.” She pouted at him, but her voice was wobbly, unsure.

“You most certainly are. You can’t even look me in the eyes.” Her gaze was in fact focused on the papers in her hands, even though she wasn’t doing anything with them at all. Just staring into the void. Dick spoke softly. “Just tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on at work?”

He could see the wheels turning in her head, the way she was considering it. She was close. So close to telling him. She just needed a little push.

Smokes eventually sighed, bringing her hands to her face and pushing wild strands out of the way. “I cannot believe we’re about to have this conversation.”

That… was not what he was expecting. “What conversation?”

She finally turned to him, brown eyes seemingly resigned to what was about to be said. “You’re really dense for a private investigator, you know that, right?”

“I’m not sure I’m following. What’s going on?”

“Ok, let me put it this way. For the past ten years or so, you’ve had private assistants at the office, despite the fact you are virtually never there. These assistants are replaced every two or three months, they mysteriously disappear without a trace, they do nothing except stack up contracts, and they’re paid like the rest of the employees. Not only that, but they’re all women, and they all work for you. So now, tell me, what do you think it looks like to the rest of the world?”

Dick blinked. Once. Twice. He had no clue what she trying to tell him. And from the exasperated look on her face, she was aware he was completely lost.

“Seriously. You’re the son of one of the world’s most important billionaires, you have a dummy job at your father’s office, everybody thinks you’re some sort of nepotism baby playboy, and you cycle through personal assistants faster than a bat out of hell. What conclusion do you think people come to?”

Dick looked at her, dumbfounded. He started trying to put the pieces together, desperate to figure out what she was implying. The look on her face was only getting worse, and that was not a good sign.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to figure it out. “Holy shit. They think you… they think you’re sleeping with me?”

He wasn’t sure if her sigh was out of relief or embarrassment. She nodded quickly, averting his gaze and going back to the papers. “Yup. They think we’re call girls. Your personal whores. All of us.”

His eyes widened in shock. Jesus Christ. This was so much worse than what he originally thought. Everybody at the office thought she was his… whore? That she was sleeping with him, and that she was getting a job out of it? How did she even manage to work there? Surrounded by people that were entirely convinced that she was a hooker?

“How would they even come to that conclusion? That is insane! And completely untrue! I’m barely ever there!”

“Believe me, I know. You didn’t even know my name until a few weeks ago. But even if I told them that, they wouldn’t believe me. So, yeah, being dubbed as “Dick Grayson’s slut” isn’t exactly a great way to make friends.” Her tone was sarcastic, but he could sense a hint of hurt there.

“And they mistreat you?”

“They mostly just ignore me.” But something in her voice sounded fake. As if it wasn’t entirely true.

“Are you sure? I’ve been at the office quite often recently. Did that go over well?”

She ran a hand through her hair, starting another stack of papers. “Well…” She didn’t get to finish her sentence as a thought suddenly hit him.

“Wait, is that why there was an inch missing from the front-right leg of your chair this morning? Did they do that on purpose?”

Bingo. She bit her lip. “They play some pranks sometimes. It happens.”

Dick was horrified. What was this, middle school? This was an office, for heaven’s sake, not the fucking playground. “Pranks? As in, multiple? What else did they do?”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter, this was not the point of the conversation at all.”

“Ok, do enlighten me then, what was the point of this conversation?”

“I don’t know! You started it! I didn’t even want to have this conversation to begin with.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, yeah, because it’s super duper nice to tell my fake boss that everybody at the office he doesn’t work at thinks we’re sleeping together.”

That instantly shut him up. God, he was such an asshole. No wonder she looked so tense every time he came by the office. Everybody was probably staring at them in disdain, and he was too busy focusing on her that he never noticed. Working in an office where everybody thought you were a whore must have been a special kind of living hell. And she’d been doing it for over a year. No friends, a fake job, far from home… This woman was more resilient than he’d given her credit for.

His voice softened. He called her name, her real name, causing her to look up in a startle. His blue eyes bore into her brown. “And you’ve been going through all of this alone? All this time?”

Her lashes fluttered in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You’re basically telling me everybody at the office hates you. And you stayed?”

“Well, it’s impossible for everybody to like me. I made my peace with it.” She shrugged. How did she not realize the gravity of what was going on?

“Yes, but we’re not talking about just a few people here. We’re talking about a whole office that has it out for you. You’re working a dummy job surrounded by people who think you’re a cunt.” The word seemed to stun her, and he immediately wished he hadn’t said it. “Sorry, that’s not-”

“No, it’s fine. I understand what you’re saying. But I guess I just rationalized it and ignored it. It just never occurred to me that I should leave.”

A thick silence filled the room. Dick had so many questions, so many things he wanted to say, and he wasn’t sure where to start. If he should start at all. He finally settled on something simple. “You’ve never thought about doing research again?”

There was a long pause, but Smokes didn’t look away from him. Longing filled her eyes as she whispered: “That part of my life is over. There’s no going back.”

He needed to know why, he desperately needed to know what had happened. And maybe it wasn’t very rational of him to want this information so badly, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it. Dick opened his mouth to ask another question when his phone rang from across the room. He suppressed a groan, but couldn’t help but notice the sigh of relief that left Smokes. This conversation probably wouldn’t be happening for a while then.

He stood up and walked to his phone, brushing Smokes shoulder with his hand. His gesture was supposed to be reassuring, affectionate, but he wasn’t sure if she understood that. Or if it was appropriate at all.

It was Tim. “Tim, what’s up?”

“Bad news. My scientist friend was a dead-end. And… the boxes just appeared.”

Dick cursed. Smokes turned to face him, a concerned look on her face. She mouthed “What’s going on?” at him, and he mouthed “Boxes appeared” back. She furrowed her eyebrows further. “Where?”

“The addresses on the list. They’re all here. I haven’t touched anything yet, but there are timers set on all of them.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” This was so much worse. They weren’t anywhere close to figuring out what the boxes were for.

“You need to come with Maverick to check them out.”

“No, Tim, I’m not bringing her into a potentially dangerous situation. There are too many unknown variables.” Smokes made a sound of indignation from across the room, but he ignored it. She was still a civilian with no training, and Tim was probably in his Red Robin suit. He wouldn’t drag any more innocent people into his messes.

“Well, we don’t have a choice. There are only two hours and…” Tim’s voice grew distant, as if he was checking out the clock. “... 34 minutes and 16 seconds left on the clock, and we don’t have the time to bring anybody else onto this. You’re objectively the closest people, not to mention she has a goddamn PhD in Quantum Physics. If anybody can figure it out, it’s her.”

Dick ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t like this, not one bit. “Fine. Fine. Just… change.” She couldn’t know about their secret identities. Not yet. There was no going back after that, and he wouldn’t drag her into this mess like this.

Tim paused, taking a second to understand. “Got it. See you in a sec.”

“See you.” Dick hung up, sighing for the millionth time of the night, and rubbing his temples.

“So?” Her voice called from across the room. There was a slight smugness in her tone; she already knew she was coming along, she just wanted to rub it in.

Cunning, smart woman.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The tension in the car was nearly unbearable.

Nearly. Yet she hated it. She could hardly focus on the road ahead and the GPS instructions with how tense she was - how tense they both were. Dick’s jaw was clenched tight, his elbow propped up on the car door, with his hand rubbing his chin continuously. She knew that look on his face, she’d seen it many times during their previous investigation. It was the “I’m going to fix everything and make sure everyone is alright” look, and while that was selfless of him, she didn’t want him to do anything. There was virtually nothing he could do. Anything he’d say at the office would only be misconstructed and misinterpreted and give place to more rumors, worse than before. No, the only course of action was to keep quiet and let time run its course.

“I’m going to do something about your situation at the office.” He exclaimed after fifteen minutes of driving in silence. Well, shit. So much for not doing anything.

“You’re only going to make it worse.”

“You don’t know that.”

She rolled her eyes, voice pinched with irritation. “Yes, I do. There is nothing you can do or say that will make this better. No matter what you say, it will always look like you’re covering for me because I’m your whore.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t put it like that.”

“What do you think my so-called “colleagues” call me when they talk about me behind my back?”

“I don’t care. It’s untrue. You don’t deserve the name-calling, just because they’re doing it doesn’t mean you need to inflict it on yourself as well.”

She opened her mouth to reply but came up short. Christ, this man was too good for his own good. It was so incredibly unbelievable how selfless he was, despite being the son of a literal billionaire. He could have been one of those douchy, selfish, egotistical men. But no, Dick Grayson was so much more than that. He never talked about himself, never thought about himself, never cared about himself. This argument they were having about the name-calling brought him nothing; but for her, a person he barely knew, for her, he was willing to engage in a ridiculous fight about insults to make sure she was comfortable.

She sighed and peeked at the GPS. There were still 10 minutes left to the address Tim had sent them. And even when they got there, she had no idea what they would find. They still hadn’t figured out the mystery surrounding the boxes, and she sincerely prayed it wouldn’t all blow up in their faces.

“Look, I understand that you’re trying to help. Really. And it’s much appreciated! But, unfortunately, you’re in no position to help. Actually, I think you might just be the least suitable person to help in this situation.”

“Well, I can’t just sit back and do nothing.” A deep frown took over his face. “I can’t let you go back there like this. Not when I know the whole office has it out for you. To be honest, I have no idea how you’ve managed to deal with it for a whole year.”

God, she wished the ground could swallow her right now. He was right. He’d been right back at the Nest, and he was still right. No person in their right mind would stay in a work environment where virtually everybody hates them and thinks they’re a whore. And the worst part was, it had never occurred to her to leave. Not once. A whole year of being slut-shamed, and it had never crossed her mind to leave. But how could she explain that to him? That after everything that had gone down in Oxford, she’d stopped feeling most things? That she’d stopped worrying, stopped seeing the good in life, stopped looking for a purpose? Her body had switched onto autopilot, and the terrifying truth was she didn’t know how to switch it off. If it was even possible to do so. If she wanted to.

Her friends, her family, her hobbies… she’d let all that go. Hadn’t been able to keep going. Had run away like a coward, because it felt like the only way to keep going. But most days, it didn’t feel like she was going at all. She was stuck. Everybody else was moving on, and she was going to be left behind.

Again. Not something she could explain to him. Dick was a ray of sunshine. He probably wouldn’t understand half of what she was going through.

She cleared her throat. “It’s fine. Really. Things will settle down, just give it a little time. If you intervene right now you risk damaging things beyond repair. So please, just be patient.”

Dick made a face, his disapproval displayed very clearly, and groaned a little, but didn’t reply. That was good enough for her. He just needed to lay low for a while and give everybody some time to forget about this whole ordeal.

They kept driving in total silence, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. She was almost tempted to ask him what he was thinking, but decided against it. If he was truly planning something, then she would rather not know about it.

Finally, they reached the address Tim had given them. “Wait, park in the back over there.” Dick pointed to a secluded spot a few meters away from the entrance. The building was old and abandoned, with wooden planks and bricks falling left and right. The door was crooked, slightly ajar, and no lights were coming from any of the boarded windows. It looked like nobody had set foot in the place in years.

She parked the car swiftly - her driving skills had considerably improved - and turned to Dick. “Alright. What do we do?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the building outside. She could see his blue eyes darting back and forth, assessing the perimeter with efficiency. He clearly had a lot of experience with this. He finally turned to her, the serious look on his face sending shivers down her spine. This was his “I’m in charge now and giving commands, and you better listen to what I have to say” face, and she knew better than to disagree with what he said next. “Ok, we’ll go in and look for the box that should be here. You always stay behind me, understood? I go first, inspect every room, and then, only when I give you the green light, you follow me. If anything happens, I want you to drop whatever you’re doing and run for the nearest exit. If necessary, you drive off without me. Your safety is the most important thing here, clear?”

She wanted to protest that she would never leave him behind, but decided against it. Nothing constructive would come out of this argument anyway. “Crystal.”

He nodded. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

They both opened their car door at the same time, making sure to close them softly and lock the car as quietly as they could. Smokes barely dared to breathe as she followed Dick towards the building’s main door. His body moved so fluidly and effortlessly, practically dancing from one shadowy spot to another, eyes looking for any signs of danger. In comparison, she looked like a sack of potatoes desperately trying to keep up.

They stopped just a few feet away from the door, one of Dick’s arms always extended towards her as if to shield her from any potential risk. They waited for a few beats, and the silence was deafening. It was too quiet, even for an abandoned building.

She watched as his eyes narrowed and he tried to work out what was going on. He eventually let out a small sigh and motioned for her to follow him; even if the situation was suspicious, they needed to find those boxes and figure out what was going on.

She held her breath as they slid into the building, practically tiptoeing to avoid any blatant noises. The inside was worse than the outside: it was completely upside down, with empty boxes lying all around, surrounded by more useless junk that she couldn’t quite make out. It was pitch-black, and she could only vaguely see a small room on the right side and a staircase leading to an upper floor on the left side. More debris was lying on the stairs, and she wasn’t sure how they would ever get past it.

Dick went to inspect the room on the ground floor, and she quickly followed suit. Contrary to the rest of the building, the room was neatly organized. A desk sat in the far back, with papers of all kinds strewn on it. She instinctively took a step towards the desk but was stopped by Dick’s arm holding her back firmly. She didn’t complain as he inspected the room, making sure it was safe, before giving her a silent thumbs up.

She walked over to the desk, picked up the papers, and skimmed them as fast as she could. Dick stayed by the door, keeping watch in case anyone showed up. “These are the same documents we have. Look. It’s all here.” She whispered as softly as she could, waving some papers towards him.

He didn’t move from his spot. “Shit. Really? Are the first 20 pages there?”

“Let me check.” She started rummaging through the various stacks, looking for the missing papers. When she didn’t find what she wanted, she started opening drawers and looking through them. She finally found a smaller stack in the last drawer. “Bingo. I think this is it.”

Dick finally moved towards her as she laid all the papers down on the desk. She could feel his breath on her shoulder as she started combing through the words. “So? What does it say?”

“Wait, I’m reading. Let me just-” Her heart dropped as she read the words. She felt her throat dry up as she kept reading. It just kept getting worse. She blinked. Once. Twice. Christ. This was so much worse than she had originally thought.

The feeling of a warm hand on her arm made her jump. She turned around and found Dick’s blue eyes staring at her, worry painted on his face. “Smokes. What is it?”

She had to blink a few more times and inhale deeply before she was able to speak. Dick’s hand never left her arm. “It’s a network of explosives. They’re going to blow up the entirety of Gotham.”

“How.” It was a demand more than a question. If Dick was worried, it wasn’t showing on his face, which led her to wonder yet again just how many times Dick had been involved in such dangerous situations. How he had come to investigate these types of things.

“Remember the force field? Well, the boxes are located all over Gotham to make sure the whole city is encompassed. It’s actually multiple force fields merging to create a bigger one. And when they merge, they create little bubbles. These bubbles are filled with chemicals with the strength of an atomic bomb. Once the boxes are detonated, the whole city will blow up. There will be nothing left of Gotham.”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat, yet his grasp on her arm remained gentle and soft. “Tell me there is a silver lining here, Smokes.”

“Well…” She bit her lip. “I’m not entirely sure about this, but maybe… I mean I may be wrong but… from the way the boxes are positioned, if even one of them is disabled then the force field doesn’t form. And if the force field doesn’t form then-”

“-there won’t be any explosion. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

She nodded. “But I’m not 100% sure, I could be entirely wrong. It’s just a guess based on the chemical reaction and brute force of the field and-”

“Would you be able to disable one?”

His question, along with the solemnity swirling in his eyes, instantly shut her up. He was looking at her with all the hope in the world, with all the trust and faith a man could gather, and… she couldn’t fathom why. Why he would have so much trust in her, practically a stranger to him? Perhaps it was because of the urgency of the situation. But, even so, he’d always placed so much trust in her, trust she didn’t deserve, even when the circumstances hadn’t been so dire. It was just who he was.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe. Possibly. I may have an idea but-”

That was enough for him. He nodded and finally let go of her arm, rushing towards the door. “Alright. There’s no time to waste then. According to Tim, there should be a box in the building. Let’s find it.”

“What- wait, hold on, I didn’t say I could. I said I might be able to, but-” She stumbled forward, trying to keep up with him as he left the room and headed for the staircase. Her words fell on deaf ears though, as Dick was already calling Tim to update him on the situation and “dispatch anyone available to try and disarm the rest of the boxes” . Whatever that meant. (To be honest, she wasn’t 100% sure she understood how this whole P.I. thing worked).

Dick practically ran up the stairs, screaming some more nonsense into his phone and pushing the debris aside with so much ease she was momentarily taken aback by his strength. Just for a split second though, because the hastening glance he shot her reminded her of the issue at hand.

Right. Boxes. Force field. Bomb. Gotham go boom. She could do this.

When they reached the upper floor, they found four different rooms waiting for them. And to their dismay, they were mostly filled with junk, random items, trash, and boxes full of technological clutter. They started meticulously searching each room one by one, looking for anything that resembled a box with a timer. They’d technically never seen one before, and Tim’s description had been less than satisfactory, so they weren’t entirely sure what they were looking for. They were efficient in their search, dividing the room into multiple sections and trying to go through everything as quickly as they could. Dick sometimes went out in the hallway to make sure nobody had caught wind of their presence, but always promptly came back. They could both feel the weight of the timer ticking, the weight of Gotham’s future in their hands.

When had her life come to this?

They finally hit the jackpot in the fourth room. She almost screamed with joy when she saw the screen with the minutes ticking by. “Found it!” She exclaimed as she pushed some of the adjacent rubbish aside, careful not to touch the box itself. 1 hour and 14 minutes. She wasn’t sure if the box would blow up or not, and she didn’t feel like taking the gamble.

Dick was instantly at her side, squinting his eyes at the object. The box was not particularly imposing: it was an item the size of her hand, made of a sleek black material and adorned with a small screen on its lid. “Good job, Smokes. Alright then.. how do we disable this thing?”

She tried not to beam at the compliment. She’d always been a slut for academic validation. “Huh… I have an idea, but I need to open the box. If my guesses are right, then there should be a plutonium cable and a uranium cable, and those shouldn’t be merged yet, and shouldn’t merge at all costs because otherwise the whole place will blow up. But, for the force field, there should be ethane cable and if I can break that one then I can probably stop the field from forming and…” Dick’s small smile made her pause. She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve just never seen you like this.”

She blinked. “Like what?”

“Passionate.”

She opened her mouth to reply but promptly closed it. She actually had no answer to that. How could he say something like that at a time like this? This man was a mystery.

“I… we should probably open it before it’s too late.”

He nodded and watched intently as he shaking hands reached for the lid. The timer now read 1 hour and 10 minutes. She’d conducted a lot of experiments during her studies, but none of them had ever come close to this. It had always been in controlled environments, where she more or less knew what to expect. But now… she had no idea what would happen. For all she knew, the box would explode in their faces before she had the chance to do anything.

This was no time to have those kind of thoughts. She just had to do it.

She swallowed, counted to three, and flipped the lid open. Her hands trembled slightly as she peeked inside, but thankfully the box didn’t blow up. She took in the cables inside, Dick’s head moving closer to glimpse a look at the box over her shoulder.

“Well? Can you disable it?” He asked, glancing back and forth between her and the box.

“Huh… there’s more cables than I thought there would be. The chemicals have been separated. But, if I can figure out- what was that?”

A loud crashing noise coming from the ground floor, along with the sound of footsteps startled them both. They could hear men screaming in Japanese, rushing around the building, probably looking for them.

Smokes turned to Dick, eyes widening in panic, but his blue remained calm and collected. There were no hints of dread in his demeanor, except maybe the way his hand was half brushing her waist.

“Smokes. Listen to me carefully.” He whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m going to buy you some time. I need you to disable this box for me, do you understand?”

“You- what? What do you mean buy me some time? How will you even do that?”

“We don’t have time for this. I’m going to go out there and lock you in here. Disable the box as fast as you can and get out of here, do you hear me? If you hear someone coming and you’re not close to finishing, just run. Take the car and drive as far away from Gotham as possible.”

Her breathing was starting to become shallow. “Dick, are you insane? There are at least two dozen men down there, they’re going to kill you! I’m not leaving you and-”

“Smokes.” The way he called her name, the way his voice trembled with emotion, the way his eyes roamed over her face as if she were the sun and he was a dying man taking it in for the last time; it all instantly shut her up. Her reply died down her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes away from him, not when he was looking at her like that. “Smokes. Do you understand?”

Every part of her body screamed not to nod. Not to agree to this foolish plan, not to give in to his superhero complex. But his hand was still brushing her waist, his eyes were still looking at her with the same fervor. “I understand.”

“Good girl.”

Dick was halfway across the room as soon as those words left his mouth, reaching for the door as fast as he could. Her eyes never left his figure as he strode away, her heart beating wildly in her chest. He was so dumb. She should have never said yes. He turned around one last time, gave her a small reassuring smile, and promptly closed the door behind him. She heard him lock the door twice and wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to do it given they had no keys.

But that didn’t matter. She could solve that mystery another day. For now, all that mattered was the box.

She breathed in, willing her thunderous heartbeat to calm down, and turned back to the box. She could do this. She had to. For all of Gotham, but most importantly, for Dick.

She tried to ignore the sounds of fighting that came from downstairs as she got to work. There was no way to properly differentiate the cables, but she’d have to somehow spot the ethane one.

The minutes ticked by, the timer reading 1 hour and 3 minutes then 1 hour and 2 minutes then 1 hour and 1 minute, only the blasts and grunts from the ongoing fight interrupting her concentration. She winced every time she heard groans of pain that sounded like Dick, but did her best to ignore them. She’d promised him she would disable the box, and she would.

She ruled the cables out one by one, finally landing on a small yellow one that had to be the ethane. Crash. Bang. Screech. She tuned out all the noises, all the shouts and screams and the way the floorboard squeaked. She needed to cut the cable. Shit. She didn’t have anything to cut it.

She started rummaging through the cardboard boxes in the room, the squeaking noises slowly growing louder. Wires, cables, microchips, test tubes… but nothing sharp enough to cut a cable. She kept rummaging, going from box to box, the sounds of the fight slowly dying down apart from the occasional squeak.

Just when she was about to give up, she finally spotted a small razor blade sitting on an old T.V. in the far left corner of the room. Her face lit up with relief realizing she would be able to cut the cable and disarm the box. She had to get her hands on it as fast as possible, and her body moved towards it without a second thought.

She was only able to take two steps towards the TV when the door to the room suddenly cracked wide open and slammed right into her, knocking her onto the floor.

She flew across the room and landed with a big thud, crashing into some boxes, her body sprawling on the wooden planks.

She groaned in pain, using her right arm as leverage to try sitting back up. Her vision was fuzzy from the crash, black shadows twirling back and forth as she tried to make out the man who was standing in front of her. All she could see were his brown boots… splattered with blood.

Her head shot up, and one look at his growing smirk told her all she needed to know.

This man wasn’t Dick.

And she was in a whole lot of trouble.

Chapter Text

Nothing in her life could have ever prepared her for the situation she was in right now. Even when they’d set out to find the boxes earlier that day, she could have never imagined it would end like this.

She’d thought her death would be caused by the box - a literal atomic bomb - blowing up on her. Not by a cranky, angry Japanese man shooting her. Or maybe beating her to death. Or strangling her. Who knew what his preferred method of killing was.

Smokes groaned again, desperately trying to sit back up, but her right arm was too shaky to apply enough pressure. Her vision was still blurry, but she could make out most of his features, the most prominent one being the yellow teeth menacingly smiling at her. He was wearing a black combat suit, and she could vaguely see the handgun he was holding in his left hand, a walkie-talkie in his right.

The man brought the device to his lips, his snaky eyes never leaving her figure. “I found the box.” He said in Japanese, and from the way he wasn’t trying to hide what he was saying she was fairly certain he didn’t realize she could understand.

Shit. She needed to do something. She could only faintly hear the sound of fighting from downstairs, and she had no clue if Dick was still alive or not. Even if he was, he was clearly in no position to save her right now. He was just a private investigator after all, he probably wasn’t trained for this. Neither was she, for the matter. Sure, she’d taken some basic self-defense classes with her father - mandatory for any military family - but she’d never cared enough and had forgotten most of what she’d been told.

No. She would need to rely on her own senses to get out of this one. Her terrible, fuzzy, fucked up senses, but those were the only ones she had at her disposal.

The walkie-talkie buzzed in response, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t make out what the person was saying on the other end of the line. The man’s attention turned to the box, glancing back and forth between her and the object.

“No, it’s still intact. All set to detonate.”

He would shoot at her at any sign of suspicious movement. She needed to be smart about this. She tried looking around, eyes furtively glimpsing the various items that had scattered around her after crashing into the boxes of debris. She could make out random wires, electrical components, paper clips, pencils… and there, out of the corner of her eye, a half-open plastic bag of some kind of powder. She couldn’t precisely see what it was, but if she could just reach for it and fling it in his face, then perhaps she could temporarily blind him. But the man was watching her like a hawk, ready to pounce at any moment, and she wasn’t sure her body could manage to move after her fall.

She tried to move her leg just slightly and quietly hissed in pain. Well. Shit. She was definitely out of commission for a while. The man was still speaking on the walkie-talkie, and she could now faintly distinguish the voice on the other side of the line asking him details about the box to make sure it was still working. The noises of the fighting downstairs had died down, and she tried her best not to think about what that potentially meant for Dick.

She desperately needed a rush of adrenaline to move. And, possibly, if it wasn’t too much to ask for, a perfect opportunity to blindside him and get the razor. She could see the sharp item glinting across the room, mocking her from where it sat on the TV. So close yet so far. All she needed to do was grab it and cut the ethane cable. She would think about how to get out of there and help Dick out later.

She willed her breath and pounding heart to calm down, to focus on the task at hand. Her vision was slowly coming back, as well as her hearing, and her senses were slowly re-adjusting after the fall. Her right leg felt as if it was on fire, but she was doing her best to ignore that pain.

Deep breaths. Just wait for the right moment.

The man finally turned his attention back to her, smiling widely with his ugly yellow teeth. “What do I do with the girl?”

“Just get rid of her.”

The smirk on his face somehow grew wider. “Got it. I’ll dispose of the cunt.”

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

The word echoed in her brain.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Over and over and over again.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

It was a neverending chant. She remembered the first time that word had been used against her all too well. She remembered the feeling of terror, the sudden retaliation, the aftermath of it all. She would never forget it. To this day, the word made her shudder. The meaning behind it, the weight of using it against someone.

It made her snap. It had then, and it probably always would.

And so, just as the man raised his handgun and aimed at her, she used all the resolve she had left to lunge her body at the plastic bag, grab it, and fling it straight at him. A shot went off right above her shoulder as the white powder hit him in the face and he started screaming and cursing in pain. She didn’t waste a single second; she jumped to her feet and crashed her body into him with all the strength she had left, knocking him to the floor in the process. Another shot went off, a mere inch from her left foot, and the gun went flying somewhere on the opposite side of the room.

She didn’t have the time to worry about that though. Adrenaline had kicked in and she had one mission: cut the cable. She ignored the hissing pain in her right leg and sprung forward towards the TV. In one swift swoop, she grabbed the razorblade and practically ran to the box. The timer now read 10 minutes, and she realized with horror that whoever was behind this had moved up the schedule because of them. She needed to act quickly.

Just as her fingers brushed the box, she felt clammy hands close around her ankles and pull her back. She screamed louder than she ever had as she fell forward, face first on the wooden planks, and the hands started pulling her back. Her white knuckle grip on the razorblade never faltered, and she tried using her other hand to drag herself forward, in vain.

In the span of an instant, the man was on top of her, eyes red and bulging from the powder, that smirk replaced with a murderous scowl. She instantly started screaming and thrashing, throwing her arms around as best as she could to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. Screams came from downstairs and she could hear men yelling and fighting, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. The man easily swatted away her poor attempts to hit him, his hands landing on her throat as he started to squeeze. Her breath got caught in her throat, eyes widening in panic as he squeezed and squeezed and squeezed with increasing pressure.

Shit. She couldn’t breathe. Shit.

She tried clawing his hands off, legs still thrashing under him, but he was too strong for her. She willed every fiber of her being to fight back, to push him off, to no avail.

Shit. She was going to die. Shit.

Her vision started to blur, but she raised her head to glance at the timer nonetheless. 7 minutes. She needed to act fast.

She made her decision in a split-second, praying to all heavens that it would work, and stopped moving. She did the best she could to let go of his hands slowly, just slightly loosening the grip on the razorblade, and make her legs land on the floor awkwardly. She kept every bone in her body perfectly still, forcing her eyes to remain open and not blink. She needed him to think she was dead. Needed him to let go just enough for her to use the razorblade on him, to catch him off guard and knock him back.

Her vision was starting to go black when the Japanese man finally loosened the pressure on her throat, just enough for air to reach her lungs again. It took everything she had not to take the deepest breath she could; but she knew that if she gave into the temptation, he would instantly resume strangling her, finishing her off for good this time. The man inspected her face, raising a doubtful eyebrow as he searched for any signs of life. Not yet. Just a little more. Her fingers were itching to tighten their grip on the razorblade. The man was still lying on top of her but had now moved his hands to either side of her face and was panting slightly. Just a little longer. She was so close to puking with how close his face was to hers. She needed to hold out just a while longer.

When he finally closed his eyes to take a deep breath, she knew it was time to strike. Smokes rose her knee, striking him right into his crotch as hard as she could. The Japanese man immediately hollered, cursing in Japanese and using her least-favorite word: cunt. And that was enough to give her the strength to grab onto the razorblade and swing it at his face, landing right into his eyeball.

The scream that left the man’s mouth was inhumane, she’d never heard anything like it. And before she could stop and think, she removed the razorblade with a squelch, causing him to let out another excruciating cry of pain.

Both his hands immediately flew to his eyes and he finally toppled over on her left side, curling himself into a ball as he cried blood and tears. The fight downstairs had never been louder when she managed to get back up and lunge for the box.

The timer read 3 minutes as her trembling hands fumbled for the yellow cable. Normally, she would have sent a quick prayer to whatever Gods were watching over her that this was the right cable, but she didn’t have the time. She grabbed the cable, pinched it between two fingers, and split it in half with one clean cut.

Her heart stopped as she waited to see what would happen next. The box hadn’t blown up, so that was a start, but had she managed to effectively disarm it?

To her relief, the timer on the box instantly turned off, and a new sentence appeared mere seconds later: Force field fail. Please fix to continue.

She couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. She’d done it. She’d actually done it. She had somehow disarmed this stupid box and fought off a man trying to kill her and saved the day. If her leg hadn’t hurt so much, she would have probably done a little happy dance to celebrate. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this happy, the last time she’d been so proud of herself, the last time she’d smiled. And maybe it was just the adrenaline, maybe it was the life or death situation she’d somehow stumbled upon, but for the first time in a long, long time, she was feeling.

And that was the biggest victory of them all.

She was so relieved that she didn’t hear the floorboard squeaking behind her. She didn’t hear the man crawling towards his handgun, gritting his teeth as his bloody hands reached for it. Only when she heard the sound of the man cocking the gun, did she finally turn around. There, sprawled on the floor, with a gushing wound that just kept puking blood down his powder-covered face, was the man. And he was holding the gun. Aimed right at her. Ready to shoot.

It all happened in less than half a second. One moment she was turning around, eyes widening in panic as realization hit her that this was it, she was actually going to die this time. The next, a wooden chair was being slammed right onto the Japanese man, breaking into a million pieces as it finally knocked him out, making him lose his grip on the gun as a shot went off on the ceiling.

She was fairly certain she wasn’t breathing when she finally looked up and saw Dick’s bloody figure standing on top of the man, holding what was left of the chair’s feet over the man’s unconscious body. But his attention wasn’t focused on the senseless man lying in front of him. No. His blue gaze was searching the room frantically, his body betraying worry and fear until his eyes finally landed on her.

He didn’t look like he was breathing either when their eyes finally met, emotions she couldn’t quite decipher the emotions swirling in his blue. She instantly scanned his body, looking for any serious injuries. His clothes were torn, his hair was sticking to his forehead from the sweat, and one of his arms was bleeding, but other than that he looked mostly safe. But even if he weren’t, he clearly wasn’t worried about himself. She could tell from the way his eyes were raking over her body, the way they were glancing back and forth and up and down and left and right that he was making sure she wasn’t hurt. And even if his eyes were telling him that she was alright, he didn’t look like he believed it.

The building was quiet as they simply stared at each other, locked in a stalemate, neither of them daring to move or make a sound or breathe. The simple image of the other being alright and alive was enough for them.

“Dick.” She eventually called his name softly, hoping to break him out of his trance.

She’d never called him by his name. Never thought it appropriate. Not until now. Now? Nothing mattered anymore. Whatever she’d thought before was silly in the face of death.

“Smokes!” He was at her side in an instant, dropping the legs of the chair next to the man and rushing to ensure her safety for the thousandth time. His hands instinctively reached for her face, and she noticed the moment he stopped himself and retracted them. They were now awkwardly hanging between the two of them, seemingly itching to touch her, to brush her waist, to make sure she was tangible and real and alive, but not daring to do so. “Are you alright?”

The look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. So anguished, so anxious to hear her speak and reassure him. “I’m ok. I’m ok. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Did he hurt you? Did he-”

“Dick.” His name was like a command, a way to stop him as soon as she uttered the syllables. “I’m fine. We fought, but I managed. I disarmed the box. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Eventually, his face broke into a small, sincere smile. A smile that widened and reached his ears, his eyes crinkling in relief and pride and- shit, she wasn’t sure her heart could take it.

“I had no doubt you’d be able to do it, Smokes.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

An hour, two different ambulances, about a thousand police cars, and even some Justice League agents later, Dick and Smokes were sitting on the steps of the building across the street, staring at the bustling street wistfully. Some paramedics had already come to check up on them, and after assuring her that her leg was just a bit sore from the fall and would be fine with a few days of rest and bandaging Dick’s cut on his arm, they’d left to go take care of the Japanese perps. Apparently, the man she’d fought was going to lose his eye. Not that she cared. He deserved it.

Tim had also shown up at some point, but she hadn’t managed to talk to him. Mainly, because Dick had immediately angrily stalked to him to - she presumed - scream at him for putting them both in such a dangerous position. They’d been too far away for her to hear the exact details of the conversation, but Dick’s fury was visible from miles away. To say he was furious would be the understatement of the century, and she was fairly certain she’d heard him threaten Tim to death. The younger man had left soon after, shooting her an apologetic look, while Dick was still fuming at him.

But all that rage was never, ever directed at her. No, with her, he was soft and sweet and attentive. He’d ensured the paramedics checked up on her first, after helping her limp out of the building, and then had requested a warm blanket and some coffee to warm her up (she hadn’t had the heart to tell him she despised coffee, and so now she was sipping the awful beverage).

And now? Now, they were simply staring at the frantic policemen and JL agents rushing in and out of the building, trying to clear up the mess before a news outlet caught wind of what had happened. The street had been closed off almost as soon as the police had arrived, and curious bypassers had somehow been sent away. Smoke was sitting on the doorsteps, while Dick was standing beside her, arms crossed and one leg propped up against the door. They hadn’t been speaking for at least fifteen minutes, and she was simply waiting for him to suggest going home. For once, she wouldn’t argue with him about driving; she was exhausted, and would gladly let him sit behind the wheel.

She wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but she didn’t feel like rushing him. She was still trying to wrap her mind around everything that had happened, and staring at their victory was… soothing. She wasn’t sure she was ready to go yet.

Another ten minutes passed before Dick finally broke the comfortable silence.

“Come work for me.”

She raised her head in shock, turning her attention to him, and found his blue eyes staring right into her soul with so much passion and conviction she was momentarily taken aback.

She blinked in confusion, opening her mouth and then closing it. “What?”

“You heard me. Come work for me.”

“I already work for you.” She raised her eyebrow at him, perplexity coating her features.

He chuckled at her face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m literally your personal assistant.”

“On a technicality.”

“Fine. I’m technically your personal assistant.”

“That’s not what I meant, Smokes. Come actually work for me.”

It took her a few beats to understand what he meant. “I… as in… this work?”

“Yes. The investigations, all of it. Come help me out.” He nodded breathlessly, hope shining in his eyes.

“I… what? I’m not made for this stuff. I’m really bad at it.”

“No, you’re not. You were crucial to helping Sabia find her son last time. You saved the day. And you saved the day today too. If it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure Gotham would still be standing right now.”

She blinked again. Was this man being serious? “I… what would I even do? You’re a good P.I., how would I even be useful to you?”

“Smokes, you seriously underestimate yourself. You speak seven languages, you have a goddamn Ph.D. in Quantum Physics, you’ve already led an in-office investigation, and… well, you’re an above-average driver.” A little smirk painted his lips, and she shook her head in astonishment.

“So you’re basically promoting me from glorified secretary to glorified chauffeur?”

“Call it what you want, Smokes. It’s a win-win situation for you. You’d still get your salary and your rent and… you wouldn’t have to deal with the office anymore.”

She paused. Well, that certainly explained a few things. “Ah. So this is what this is about. The office.”

Dick shook his head vigorously, still staring at her with that gleam that screamed I trust you. I am proud of you. I want you. “No. That’s not it.”

“It’s not about getting me out of the office?”

“Getting you out of that shithole is one hell of a perk, but I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t truly believe you’re good at this. If… if I didn’t truly want to keep doing this with you by my side.”

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have believed anyone saying that. No one. It seemed like such a lousy excuse, asking her to tag along when she had no experience and could barely defend herself. If it had been anybody else, she would have been more inclined to believe that it was just to get her out of there.

But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Dick Grayson. The Dick Grayson who had trusted her to fend off Slade Wilson, the Dick Grayson that had rushed to check in on her time and time again, the Dick Grayson who had never once doubted her ability to disable atomic bombs. The Dick Grayson who would have probably torn the office upside down if she’d asked that of him, but whom had found a much smarter solution.

And to his credit, it was a great solution. She’d been itching to keep doing things like this ever since her very first in-office investigation, and for the first time in a while, the universe had seemingly answered her request.

Dick swallowed hard. “So? What do you say?”

She sighed, turning her attention to the building in front of them. So much for not driving tonight.

“Glorified chauffeur it is.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

from: [email protected]
to: all waynentreprises.com emails
OBJECT: Sexual Harassment Company-wide Investigation

Dear all,

Being a safe space for everyone is one of Wayne Entreprises’ most important missions, and it has always been with pride that we’ve welcomed everyone with open arms and ensured the protection of this space. However, it has recently come to my attention that this space has been compromised and that many of our offices have not been following company guidelines regarding sexual harassment and discrimination in the workplace.

In light of these preoccupying rumors, I have found it fundamental to open a company-wide investigation. Given that our own human resources departments are suspected of being involved in these unjust incidents, I have made the executive decision to hire an outside company to lead the investigation.

I would like to use this email as a reminder that sexual harassment and discrimination in our offices are against all of our company guidelines and will never be tolerated. If any of you are found guilty of such offenses, actions will be taken accordingly, and this could result in potential termination. We do not tolerate discrimination under any form and will be absolutely intransigent if we find any proof of such discrimination.

Your head of departments and managers will be notified of the exact details of this investigation in the near future.

Please take this investigation as an opportunity to reflect on yourselves and your actions, and question whether through your behavior you have always respected your peers.

Kind regards,
Bruce Wayne CEO

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Dick: So? did you do it?
Bruce: Yes, Dick. The email is out. The investigation will happen. Can I please go to sleep now?
Dick: You’re the best, Bruce.

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not.”

“This is non-negotiable, Smokes.”

“I’m not doing cardio, Dick. That is out of the question. Off the table. Never going to happen.”

“Well, you better put it back on the table, because we are doing this, whether you like it or not.”

They’d reached a stalemate. Clearly. Smokes had instantly known something was wrong when Dick had properly parked his car and shown up on the doorsteps of her apartment complex wearing sportswear. Normally, he simply left the car running in the middle of the street, just to give him enough time to switch seats while she got into the driver’s seat. Now, he was standing in front of her, leaning on the car with his arms crossed, while she refused to even walk down the doorsteps. At least from where she was standing right now, she could look down on him (which normally proved hard given his ridiculous 6-foot height).

To be fair, she probably should have expected it. She’d been working as Dick’s… whatever her position now was for just a little over a month, and her physical prowess - or lack thereof - had manifested itself on numerous occasions. Dick had warned her on her first day that most investigations weren’t as exciting as their last two, and he hadn’t been wrong. It was mostly petty crimes, small business thefts, following people from afar, going through random tips and eye-witness reports, settling disputes between neighbors, and occasionally saving teenagers from getting involved in shady business. It wasn’t quite as riveting, but her brain was certainly working a lot more than when she was at the office.

The first incident had happened about a week after she’d started: a perp they were following had started running away, and Dick had asked her to take a different route than him to cut him off. But, well… she’d arrived about 10 minutes after him, panting and short-winded, and had needed a solid ten minutes of breathing in and out to get rid of her stitch. Thankfully, he’d been fast enough to catch up to him and cut him off directly, but she hadn’t missed the inquisitive look he’d shot her when she’d finally shown up.

There was also the time Dick had screamed at her to trip one of the kids running away, and she’d somehow ended up falling on the floor instead of stopping the kid. Or the time he’d asked her to stop an old lady from interfering during a house search, and she’d somehow ended up with wild scratches on her arm and an increasingly hysterical woman. There were about a dozen more times where he’d just asked her to run, the simplest task of them all, and she’d always been so slow she hadn’t been able to help out.

The cherry on top was probably when, after quite a few of these incidents, Dick had asked her - “out of sheer curiosity” - to show him her fighting stance and throw a punch in the air. God. Now that had been embarrassing. She’d tried bending her knees forward and entering what she assumed was a fighting position and throwing a punch but… her noodle arm had fallen in the air awkwardly, and his wince and worried face had said it all.

And now? Now he wanted her to run? Absolutely not.

“I’m not running. I hate running. I swore I’d never run a day in my life and I’m not going back on that promise now.” She doubled down, crossing her arms and tapping her foot lightly.

“This is a part of the job, Smokes. You won’t be helpful if you can’t run to help me out or away from danger.”

“I thought you said I “underestimated myself” and that I would be useful regardless because of my Ph.D. and my language skills and-”

“Brains will only get you so far. This is about your safety, you realize that, right? You can’t throw a punch to save your life. I can’t do my job properly if I also need to keep you safe.”

Her nostrils flared. “What, you don’t want to keep me safe?”

Dick’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed a menacing finger at her. “That is not true, and you know it. You need to be able to take care of yourself if anything happens to me. This is non-negotiable. So get your cute little ass back in there, change into your best sports clothes, and let’s go on this run.”

Her cheeks turned bright red at his words, at the stern, commanding tone of his voice. He truly wasn’t giving her a choice. She was going to have to run. Run! She would have been more concerned about the running if she weren’t already mortified about what she would have to say next.

“I don’t own any sports clothes.” She mumbled, looking away, face growing increasingly crimson.

Dick simply stared and blinked at her. Once. Twice. Thrice. “What? What did you just say?”

“Oh, come on, you heard me! Don’t make me repeat it!”

“What do you mean you don’t own sports clothes? What do you wear when you work out?”

“I… don’t.” Dick opened his mouth to reply but then just… didn’t. He didn’t close his mouth either. It was just hanging right open, eyes widening in a mixture of horror and bewilderment and disappointment as he stared at her. God. This conversation just kept getting worse.

“What… what do you… hold on, I think I’m going to need a moment.” His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, and she was fairly certain she was about to hit rock bottom. “When’s the last time you’ve done physical exercise?”

There it was. Rock bottom. “Huh… high school?”

“HIGH SCHOOL?” He practically yelled, causing a few bypassers to turn towards him and eye him suspiciously. He proceeded to hush-scream. “High school? High school? That was like 13 years ago!”

“Hey! I’m 27, it’s barely been ten years! Don’t give me extra years just because you’re an old man!”

“I haven’t turned 30 yet!”

“You’re turning 30 in less than a month!”

“Well, 30 isn’t old! And this is not the point of this conversation!”

It took them another 10 minutes of bickering before Dick begrudgingly drove her to the closest sports store, where she picked out some new sportswear (that he paid for, of course, because “there’s no way I’m paying for sports clothes when I don’t even want to go running in the first place” and “you’re a billionaire and my boss, consider it a business expense”).

One hour later, once she’d changed and tied her hair up and scowled the whole time to make sure he was well aware that she was against all of this, they were finally running through the streets of Gotham. Well, Dick was running at the very least. Smokes was somehow trying to keep up. She’d gotten a stitch within the first ten minutes of running and was now panting behind him, stopping every few seconds to take deep breaths and restart (in vain).

Dick was sometimes so far ahead that he was able to circle back around her a few times before she eventually reached his original spot. Every time he ran back to her with that smirk on his face she felt a murderous rage and was tempted to throw her shoes at him and head back home. But if he noticed her fury, he didn’t say anything and acted as if it wasn’t there. Which was a hundred times more infuriating, and increased her desire to kill him tenfold.

Dick was as sweet as he was relentless. Despite her very clearly struggling, they only stopped two hours later, when they reached Central Park and she practically collapsed on the first bench she saw. She was sprawled on the whole bench, heaving heavily, and didn't even have the strength to care about the people walking by and looking at her as if she was just another of Gotham’s psychos.

But of course, the most aggravating thing of them all was that Dick looked absolutely unbothered. He’d barely broken a sweat and was simply staring at her with his arms crossed, shaking his head just slightly in a playful way. His muscular arms were glistening in the sun - an unusual sun for early November - and it was frankly unfair to look that good after having run two hours.

“I had a hard time believing it, but I’m afraid you were telling the truth. You seriously haven’t done any physical exercise since high school.”

“Why-” she paused to breathe, “-would I-” another breath, “-lie to you?”

He chuckled - because he, for one, had enough air in his lungs to chuckle - and sighed. “Ok. Well. The situation is more dire than I thought but it’s fine. It’s all about practice, you’ll be a pro in no time.”

“Don’t you have an actual job to do? Like investigating another granny’s report that her house is 1000% haunted or helping a cat climb down a tree?”

“I’m flattered you’re concerned, but don’t be. I gave Tim all my cases. He’ll take care of them while we keep training.”

She nodded absentmindedly, though she wasn’t quite sure she fully understood how Tim and Dick’s job worked. Sure, they were private investigators, but she’d never seen anyone pay them or heard them mention a payment. To be honest, most of what they did felt like charity. Which was their prerogative, of course, but still. Something was off and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Then again, they were the sons of one of the most important billionaires in the country; money probably wasn’t an issue for them

So long as she kept getting paid she should probably mind her own business.

“Just out of sheer curiosity, how long are we going to be training? Because this is not what I signed up for.”

Dick took a few steps toward the bench, leaning his head over her and masking the sun. “We’re going to keep training until you can run to the park and back without dropping dead like a sack of dead animals.”

“Hey!” This time, she couldn’t stop herself. Her whole body was sore and screaming, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing one of her shiny new shoes and flinging it right at Dick’s head. A shoe which he, of course, avoided swiftly with a laugh and landed right in a puddle of mud.

She groaned in irritation while Dick broke down into a fit of laughter; this time, he wasn’t able to sidestep the second show she threw his way, and it hit him right on the nose. The sight of him rubbing his red face with a pout was the highlight of her day.

They spent the following week doing exactly what Dick had promised her: running. Warming up, then running up and down the block, then to and from the park, then branching out to other areas of Gotham. She’d seen more of Gotham in this past week than in the year she’d been living there, and she was fairly certain her wandering gaze at everything they ran by gave her away.

The first two days had been the hardest, every part of her body sore and aching and begging her to just stay home and sleep it off. But when she’d suggested taking a day off - or, better yet, giving up entirely on this ridiculous ordeal - Dick had threatened to bring her apartment door down, drag her out himself, and carry her over his shoulder the whole day. Given how much she’d seen of his muscles this past week, she didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d be very capable of doing so.

By the eighth day, she’d made considerable progress, and though she’d never missed her (well, his, but hers by extension) car so much, she felt as if she was starting to get the hang of it. She could now run to the park with minimal panting and though she had to walk most of the way home, at the very least she wasn’t heaving like a cat in heat. Baby steps, right?

She was fairly certain she’d be able to run the whole way by the end of the week, and was actually excited to run that day for the first time since they’d started. Which is why she probably shouldn’t have been surprised when Dick showed up that day and told her to get in the car because they were doing something else.

“What?” She loudly exclaimed, hands on hips and ponytail floating behind her, refusing to come down the doorsteps. “What do you mean we’re not going running?”

A playful smile coated his features. “I thought you hated running, little Miss I swore I’d never run a day in my life and I’m not going back on that promise now. What happened to that resolve?”

“I- you’ve been literally forcing me to run this whole time! This is all your fault! What are we going to do anyway?”

“Well, now that you have enough stamina and cardio, I’m going to teach you some basic self-defense moves.”

Her mouth hung open in disgust. “You cannot be serious right now. You had me run every day for a whole week - even on fucking Sunday - just so we could do self-defense? Couldn’t we just have started with that instead and skipped this whole crap? What is this, Take Care of Yourself 101 boot camp?”

“You’re the one who was pretty pissed off we weren’t going running earlier to- ow! Smokes!”

Yeah, her patience was running thin and her shoes were easily accessible. And besides, he so often avoided her shoe that every time she did in fact hit him, it felt like a small personal victory.

The two of them got in the car - Dick in the passenger’s seat, Smokes in the driver’s seat, as it always should and would be - and she followed his directions to a small, local gym. The drive was only ten minutes long, and he tried playing some Taylor Swift songs to atone for the lack of running (but then he didn’t pick a Taylor's version and was confused by the existence of two versions and so she had to explain the whole ordeal to him which didn’t exactly put her in the best of moods).

They walked inside once the car was parked, and Dick greeted the receptionist - a petite, blonde woman - with a big smile and a small wave, which she promptly returned. Oh. She returned more alright, with that little flirtatious wink of hers. She watched the exchange carefully and had to suppress the urge to gag. He was seemingly quite familiar with the place, and…

“Ah. So the receptionist?” Smokes asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He simply laughed.

“I wasn’t aware I was sharing details about my love life with you.”

“Well, I was supposedly your personal call girl, so I think you are.”

“Touche, Smokes, touche. It was casual. A few weeks. We’re still on good terms.”

She clicked her tongue. “Yeah. I can see that.”

She wasn’t sure why, but there was no denying that this encounter had worsened her already sour mood. She wanted to go back to the investigations and detective work, not participate in Sergeant Stick Up My Ass’s bootcamp.

They finally reached a private room, adorned with blue training mats, wooden ladders on the wall, a punching bag, and some workout ropes. Dick walked confidently into the room, taking off his sports jacket and throwing it on the floor somewhere. He clapped his hands when he turned to her.

“Alright. We’ll start with some warmups and then try some zombie walk drills to see how bad the situation is.”

“Zombie- what?”

But she didn’t get an answer to her question, for Dick started shouting commands and showing her the warmup routine. Squats, jumping jacks, running on the spot, planks (which she was terrible at, by the way, no core strength or anything of the sort); she did it all. Running was one thing, but this… this was pure hell. Not to mention Sergeant Poopy Face was relentless, never giving her time to tap out or regain her breath.

Finally, after 30 minutes of torture, they started what he had called zombie walk drills. Dick was standing with his hands on his hips about ten feet across from her.

“Ok, now, this drill is going to help your footwork. When you’re in a fight, you need to move quickly to dodge your opponent’s hits and to catch him by surprise. So here’s how this works. I’m going to hold out my hands like this,” He fisted his hands in front of him, lightly jumping from one foot to another, without moving closer to her just yet. “And I’m going to come towards you slowly, at a zombie pace. And I’m going to circle you. Now, I want you to try avoiding me. Hold out your hands like mine, but don’t hit or throw a punch. Just move around and walk around me. Think of it as a dance.”

Well. If this was a dance, she was the worst dancer in the history of dance. Despite Dick walking at the literal pace of a zombie, Smokes had virtually no clue what she was doing. Her movements were awkward, and she nearly tripped over his foot at some point.

That didn’t deter him though, and he decided to focus on teaching her different kinds of punches instead. Jabs, uppercuts, a hook, a cross punch, then a jab cross combo, and a hook uppercut combo and… ok. That was a lot. She was confused. Despite Dick’s explanations and demonstrations on the punching bag, her attempts were wobbly and uneven at best.

She must have looked dejected enough that he decided to call it a day and drive back home.

The following day, however, he was back in full spirits, ready to teach her new things. She once again had to resist the urge to wipe the receptionist’s smirk off her face when they walked in.

“Ok, maybe what we did yesterday was a bit too complicated. Let’s try something new.” Dick explained once they finished their warmup. Smokes nodded while drinking from her water bottle. “Good, so today we’re going to focus on men’s greatest weakness: balls.”

Smokes couldn’t stop herself from spitting the water she was drinking, landing right in Dick’s face. She stared at him in horror, cheeks heating up as she realized she’d basically just showered him with her water. He simply blinked, sighed, and went to find a towel to wipe himself.

Ten minutes later, they were finally trying out knee strikes. “Now, before you sprayed me, I was saying that the crotch area is the most sensitive, especially for men. Kneeing someone in the balls isn’t particularly graceful, but it’s very effective and fairly simple.”

The two of them were standing right in front of the wall, as Dick started demonstrating the drills. “Ok, put both hands on the wall, and one leg back… yup, just like that. Now, swing that leg right back up, as if you were kneeing someone, and bring your hips forward. No, with more force… sure, we’ll say that’s ok for now. Now, bring both legs back… yes, like that. And now we’re going to repeat the same thing but with the other leg. Good. Ok, just make sure the knee isn’t too stiff. It needs momentum to hit correctly.”

This drill, finally, was something she could do. They spent the following half hour repeating the drill over and over until Dick was satisfied with the movement.

“Ok, I think that’s good.” He declared. “Now, try it on me.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What? I’m not kneeing you in the balls.”

“No, you won’t go all the way. Just close enough that you could. I’ll stop your knee, don’t worry.”

Smokes was not the least convinced, but she did as she was told. She walked towards Dick, standing right in front of him, mere inches separating their bodies. She raised her head to stare up at him, only to find his big blue eyes staring back with a mischievous glint.

“Alright, I’ll be in fighting stance. Now, you just put your hands on my shoulders and bring your knee up, ok?”

Smokes took a deep breath, praying to the heavens that she wouldn’t accidentally knee her boss-non-boss-maybe-unconventional-boss-but-still-boss in the balls, and did as she was told. She placed her hands on his shoulders and hoped her face didn’t betray her surprise at how vigorous they felt. Sure, she’d always known he was quite athletic, and she’d gotten quite a few glimpses of his six-pack since they’d started this boot camp, but feeling it… feeling it was an entirely different story.

She focused on her leg and brought her knee up with as much strength and momentum as she could. Just like he’d promised, Dick stopped the knee with his hands right before it would have hit his crotch.

He smiled at her. “Good girl. Now try again.”

Smokes ignored the way her stomach flipped at the nickname and started repeating the motion, her knee being stopped by his hands every time as he continued to praise her and encourage her to keep going. She put more force in her swing every time and was finally starting to feel as if she was getting the hang of it.

Which of course meant, by extension, that Dick wouldn’t let her have any of that. After almost fifteen minutes of repeating the drill, just when she was starting to feel somewhat proud of herself, he grabbed one of her arms out of nowhere, twisting it down as she let out a sharp cry. In three swift movements, he had her trapped, her back against his body and her arm twisted so tightly she couldn’t have freed herself even if she had wanted to. He used his other hand to immobilize her remaining arm, ensnaring her for good.

She tried struggling nonetheless, tried wiggling out of his grip, but it only made matters worse. She could feel every inch of his body up against her, his soft breath on her ear as he leaned in to whisper.

“You see, Smokes, the issue is that as good as you are at kneeing someone in the balls, you will never find yourself in a position where he doesn’t retaliate. He will strike back. And when he does, you’ll be helpless unless you can stand your ground and throw a decent punch.”

Smokes groaned, trying to swing her elbow back into him, with little success. He had her properly locked in alright.

Her body stiffened as she felt him lean in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “And if he gets you in this position, then he can do anything he wants with you. Including this.”

In two movements, Dick had her twirling around, tripping, and falling face-first on the floor. She braced herself for the impact of the fall, but it never came; Dick was holding her up with one arm, her face a mere inch from the floor.

The glare she gave him when he finally let go could have singlehandedly defeated Darkseid himself. Dick only laughed, and then proceeded to explain armlocks to her.

The explanation was long and complicated, something about controlling the wrist or hand and then applying pressure to the elbow with your shoulder, before twisting and turning until the other person is properly locked in. But what was already complicated in theory was practically impossible in practice. Despite Dick demonstrating the movement step-by-step multiple times, she was always unable to recreate it.

The following day was even worse, for he decided to try and explain some fighting theory to her, which didn’t go over all that well.

“Ok, fighting can be summarized in 3 main categories: weapon, target, and timing. Now, if you manage to trick your opponent into thinking he knows your next move, you can easily catch him off guard with a feint. For example, weapons are your punches and kicks. If you let the attacker believe you’ll kick instead of punching, your punch will land more effectively. The same thing applies to the target: if he thinks you’ll be hitting on the right side, he’ll pay less attention to his left side. As for timing, if you-”

But by then Smokes was already utterly confused. How would she ever be able to focus on all of that while also making sure to keep track of the opponent’s movements while also making sure there was enough momentum and strength in her hits to hurt them? This whole ordeal was starting to feel like an impossible mission.

They spent the rest of the week locked up in the gym, practicing different kinds of punches, armlocks, knee drills, fighting theory, and simulation. Her mood soured with each day, and the flirting gaze the receptionist had for Dick every time they walked in and out of the gym was not helping. Not to mention they hadn’t gone running in so long she was starting to worry she’d lost all her cardio progress.

By the seventh day - the second Sunday in a row that she did not, in fact, get to rest - she had made no progress and felt utterly dejected. Dick had been trying to cheer her up, telling her she was improving, and it would be alright, but it all felt like empty words to her.

“You’re getting better, Smokes, I promise.” He reiterated when they reached her apartment complex, stepping out of the passenger’s seat to follow her.

It was 8 in the evening, and the sun had set down a while ago. The chilly mid-November air and dark night were clear signs that winter had finally settled in Gotham. And when it came to Gotham, winter was always the season of crime. The street was already empty and quiet, everyone having already gone home.

Smokes sighed, turning around to face him and crossing her arms. Dick was leaning back on the car, mimicking her pose. “If we just had kept running we would have been done with boot camp by now.”

“Yes, and you would have been unable to defend yourself.”

“I’m still unable to defend myself.”

“Don’t worry, it’s coming. You’re almost there.”

“Define almost.”

He shook his head. “You’re being too cynical. It’s not as bad as you-”

“Give me your money! Put your hands in the air!”

Smokes raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Dick as they both turned their heads to face the newcomer. The masked man was covered in black from head to toe, only his brown eyes peeking out from under the layers of fabric, and was pointing a gun at the two of them. Dick didn’t look fazed in the slightest, and a sudden realization hit her: this was a test. A stupid, dumb test, to see if she could take care of herself.

For fuck’s sake. How far was this boot camp going to go?

There was a beat of silence.

“I said give me all your money! Now! Or I’ll shoot.”

She rolled her eyes, pointing a finger at the mugger and turning to Dick. “Really? This is what you came up with?”

Dick’s eyes widened, slightly raising his hands. “Oh, no, Smokes, I don’t think-”

“No, seriously? What am I, 10? I’m not stupid. This is how you want to go about it?”

“No, seriously, I think you’ve misunderstood, I-”

“I said give me all your money!” The mugger yelled, pointing his gun from Dick to her and then to Dick again. His blue eyes were now wide with panic, and his hands were considerably higher in the air.

“Can’t you see we’re having a fucking conversation?” Smokes screamed back, glaring at the mugger and then at Dick.

“Smokes, seriously, I think you got this wrong, I-”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “This is maybe the saddest thing you’ve orchestrated up to this point. Hiring a mugger to test my self-defense skills, seriously? What’s next, hiring someone to kidnap me in the middle of the night? But you want me to put on a show? Fine. You’ll get your show.”

She started walking towards the mugger, whose eyes were squinting in confusion, and felt Dick panic behind her. He took a few steps towards her, hands still in the air - as if he needed to do that for a fake mugger - but she was walking too fast for him. “Smokes, whatever you’re planning on doing, I suggest you stop for a second and listen to what I-”

“You! Yeah, you! Don’t you have anything better to do than fake-mug two people at 8 in the evening on a Sunday? Is this some kind of method acting?”

The man faltered, dropping his gun slightly. “Lady, this ain’t a skit. I’m mugging you for real.”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m the queen of England. Give me a break. That’s not even a real gun.”

“Smokes, seriously, I think you need to calm down because-” Dick’s voice was increasingly alarmed, but she didn’t have time for his shenanigans.

“No, Lady, this gun is very, very real.”

“Oh, really? Let me take a closer look then.” Smokes took a couple of steps forward, and without warning, threw an uppercut right in his face. The mugger stumbled back, dropping his gun onto the pavement in the process, and Smokes took the opportunity to swat it away with her foot. She heard Dick curse behind her as she grabbed onto the man’s shoulders and kneed him right in the balls. She then twisted his arm and held him into an armlock, just like she’d seen Dick do a thousand times.

She turned around to face him, still holding the whining man in her arms. “So? Is this good enough for you?”

Dick was staring at her with a mixture of horror and pride, holding the gun tightly in his right hand. “That was great, truly, but I didn’t hire that man.”

“Oh please, just cut the crap. I defended myself, you can drop the act.” She grumbled, tightening her grasp on the man’s arm while he tried to struggle out of her grip.

“No, Smokes, I genuinely did not hire that man.”

She laughed a little, ready to retort, but the words died in her throat when she saw the serious expression on his face. She stared at him in silence, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“I swear on my life I’ve never met this man.”

“What?”

“We were actually getting mugged, Smokes. But… you handled that really well! Well, apart from the “walking right to a man aiming a gun at you” part but-”

“I thought it was a fake gun!” Her eyebrows were furrowed, revulsion coating her figures as she let the man go. He instantly fell to the ground, massaging his arm while groaning in pain.

“Oh, no, this gun is definitely real,” Dick said as he weighed it in his hands.

“I tried telling you!” The man exclaimed from the ground but was promptly ignored. Smokes started rubbing her temples, closing her eyes in exhaustion.

“God. Please tell me this is the end of self-defense boot camp because I’m at my wit’s end right now.”

“Yeah, I think that’ll be enough for now. You can clearly take care of yourself-” He awkwardly gestured towards the man on the floor, “-and my work is piling up. I think it’s time to get back to investigating.”

“Oh, thank the heavens! And thank you, good sir, for attempting to mug us tonight!”

The man looked up at her from the pavement, confusion clear on his face. “Huh… you’re welcome?”

“Now, I’m going to head home and sleep for 12 hours. You do whatever you want with this man. I’ll see you tomorrow at the usual time.” Smokes waved him off, heading up the doorsteps and fumbling for the keys in her pocket. She needed a good shower and a nice little evening by herself.

“What? You’re just going to abandon me with the mugger out here?” Dick called out behind her, but she could tell he was amused by the tone of his voice.

“Yup! Have fun with your date!”

And just like that, she slammed the door in his face.

“Farewell, Take Care of Yourself 101 boot camp. Good fucking riddance.” She hummed as she took the elevator and opened the door to her apartment, throwing herself on the couch. After a few seconds, she couldn’t help the fit of laughter that took over. What an absurd situation.

That night, Smokes slept more peacefully than she had in nearly two years.

Chapter Text

“No.”

Smokes was staring at the object, eyebrows knitted in determination and a now familiar scowl painted on her face. To be fair, it’s not like Dick hadn’t expected this reaction. She was just being much more stubborn than he’d originally anticipated, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. This was Smokes, after all.

“What do you mean no?”

She turned to him, gesturing wildly in the air. “This is highly inappropriate, Dick!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my boss!”

“On a technicality.” He corrected, but that only earned him a glare in return.

“Well, you can’t just buy me a car on a technicality!”

The shiny red Fiat 500 was a sight for sore eyes: brand new, it practically sparkled in the late November sunlight. The car dealer had assured him it was the ideal car for city girls. Not too big but not too small, perfectly compact, and fairly quick, it would hold up pretty well. Dick had been thinking about buying her a car for a while now, since she was his “glorified chauffeur” and all, and the incident with the mugger just a few days prior had convinced him to finally go through with it.

“Smokes, you drive me everywhere. I come to pick you up at your apartment every day just so that we can switch seats and you can drive. You deserve your own car to do your job, it’s just more practical.”

“So what, you want me to come pick you now?”

He laughed. “No. We can both meet up at the Nest, if that works better for you.”

She narrowed her eyes at the car, eyeing it suspiciously. “No. That wouldn’t make any sense. Then I would have to drive you back to the Nest every day before I head home. It’ll be easier to come pick you up at your house.”

“I- ok? You’re the one who was complaining about this arrangement five seconds ago.”

“Dick, that’s not the point. Just because it’s more practical and you can afford it doesn’t mean you can just buy me a car. What would the people at the office even think?”

“You haven’t been back at the office in nearly a month, and I don’t think you’ll be going back any time soon, so don’t worry about that.”

Not to mention, the office she knew didn’t exist anymore. Ever since the investigation had started, a lot of people had either been fired or relocated. Dick was following everything as closely as he could, practically harassing Bruce every day to get updates regarding the situation. He’d also made sure to have I.T. pull up video footage of people playing pranks on Smokes, and of private conversations where they slut-shamed her. He wanted all of the culprits gone and taken care of.

But she didn’t have to know about that. She’d asked him not to do anything, and he’d gone behind her back to do the exact opposite. He didn’t regret it, though. Sometimes some people needed help, whether they knew it or not, and Smokes was one of those people. She never asked for help and always wanted to do things on her own, always wanted to be in control. Even when it came to mundane things like driving, she needed to feel like she was in charge. And that meant that sometimes when she couldn’t do things on her own and needed a bit of help, she refused to seek it.

Dick knew it all too well. He was the same, after all. If there was something he could do to help, then he would.

“Just because I’m not going back soon doesn’t mean you can buy me a car, Dick. How do you even justify this purchase?” She sighed, still staring at the car. The look in her eyes was changing though, and there was now a tiny bit of admiration. Good. It was growing on her.

“Think of it as a business expense. You can give it back when - and if - you decide to stop working for me. In the meantime, you can use it as you like. It’s safer too. Winter is coming, and that’s peak crime season in Gotham. We got mugged just the other day.”

She turned to him with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms. That was her usual what is this bullshit pose, and it was honestly endearing. “How is a car going to help me through crime season? You were literally leaning on your car when we got mugged.”

“Yes, but that’s because you had to park it on the street so we could switch seats. If you have your own car, you can just park it in your complex’s parking lot.”

“What- how do you even know my apartment complex has a parking lot?”

Dick’s shit-eating grin said it all. “I called your landlord. Got your spot and everything.”

“You cannot be serious.” Her voice sounded exhausted and somewhat disappointed, but he could read on her face that he’d won this battle.

“Again, company expense. Wayne Entreprises covers your rent, including parking spots. You’re all good. Now, want to head to work in your shiny new car or not?” He held the keys out in front of her, jingling them from side to side. He’d even gotten her a nice keychain with a small cloud of smoke charm and a lightning bolt.

Smokes just stared back at him, brown eyes torn between telling him off and thanking him, tapping her foot lightly on the pavement. Finally, after several beats, she snatched the keys from his hand and circled the car to get into the driver’s seat. Dick smiled all the while. Victory.

The drive to the Nest was fairly silent, neither of them talking as they took in the smell of the fresh new car. She was lightly humming to whatever Taylor Swift song was playing on the Bluetooth stereo (he had found out with some horror that he needed to take about three different classes to catch up on Taylor Swift lore) while he stared at her thoughtfully, a small smile gracing his lips.

He hadn’t told her, but Smokes had completed self-defense boot camp in record time. Aside from the majestic uppercut she’d used against the mugger, she was just generally pretty talented, and he had no doubt she’d be able to hold her own when the time came (hopefully it wouldn’t, but he knew how things were in this line of work). She was particularly good when she was mad and provoked, and he’d instantly noticed him flirting with the receptionist grated her nerves. He had tried using some similar techniques to tick her off during training, which had mostly worked.

He had also called up the receptionist afterward for a casual night of fun, but that was another story.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. Smokes sideglanced while he reached for the device in his pocket, but did not say anything. One swipe and the screen revealed that it was Artemis.

“Hi, Art. Long time no see.”

“Heya, Dildo. Holding up ok?” Artemis’ teasing tone from the other side of the line made him roll his eyes.

“I see the nicknames just keep getting more creative.”

“Ooh, yeah, Bart and Jaime have a spreadsheet where everyone can add their suggestions now. They want to print it and make it a book. Exciting, don’t you think?”

“Riveting.”

Artemis had become more than Dick’s best friend: she was like a sister to him. They’d always been close, but Wally’s death and their grief had brought them closer. Artemis was probably the only girl he’d never, ever considered hitting on. Mainly, because he’d known from the start that she was the one for Wally (despite him insisting that M’gann was the woman of his dreams). Artemis had struggled after Wally’s death, but she’d managed to move on, faster and better than he had. She was happily married to Jason - an actual private investigator -, had completed her PhD, and was about to become a college professor. Life was smiling at her, even when Wally no longer was.

The thought sobered him up quickly. He hadn’t thought of Wally in a while. Not since… since he’d been so busy solving mysteries with Smokes.

“Dick? Dick?”

Artemis’ voice snapped him back to reality. “Oh… yes, sorry, spaced out a bit. You were saying?”

“Everything alright? Kal says you’ve been down lately.”

He sighed. Of course, Kaldur had said that. He had a knack for reading into people’s emotions and figuring them out, and nothing ever got past him. Dick had done his best to hide his recent discomfort, but his recent phone calls from when he was in Tokyo mustn’t have been convincing enough.

Dick forced out a laugh. “Kal is being a mother hen, as usual. Everything’s fine.”

“Hmm, I figured as much. Tim says you’re having a blast. Something about a personal assistant?”

Fucking Tim. Of course, he’d been mouthing off about Smokes to anybody who would listen. For some reason, his brother acted weird whenever she was around: raised eyebrows, little winks, head nods that screamed… well, he wasn’t sure. But whatever idea he had, he was wrong. She was just someone trying to find her way back to life, and he would help her out as long and as much as she would allow him. There was nothing else going on.

“Something like that. It has its perks. What do you need, Art?”

She instantly went into business mode. “We need to talk about the box incident with yakuza. I know you took two weeks off, but-”

“Did you find out anything?”

“Yeah, I have some new information. But I think this is something we should talk about in person.”

“Huh…” Dick glanced at Smokes. The young woman had her eyes focused on the road ahead, but he could tell she was listening in on the conversation. He couldn’t have this conversation with Artemis in front of her, it could blow their superhero covers. “How long can this wait? Like I told you, I’m being chaperoned here.”

“This is pretty urgent, Dick.”

“Yes, but this is a very personal and sensitive conversation, Art. Just let me… let me call you back, ok?”

She sighed. “Fine. Talk to you soon.”

“Yup. Bye.”

He hung up, thoughts swirling. He needed to find a way to leave Smokes on her own for a few moments to talk to Artemis in peace.

Dick was fairly certain he trusted Smokes with his life, which should have been absurd since they’d known each other for such a short amount of time. Yet, he did. She’d proven to be loyal, witty, and quick-thinking over and over again, and had always had his back. He trusted her, more than she realized. But his superhero identity? That was a line he wasn’t sure he - or she - was ready to cross yet. It was a point of no return, the start of a life of sacrifice and danger. And despite her words that she would never go back to academia and the mystery surrounding her sudden departure from Oxford, Dick couldn’t help but hope that she would one day find her way back to the thing she loved. Even if it meant leaving Gotham and this absurd job behind; because he knew that as much as he’d miss her, she’d be a thousand times happier doing what she’d worked her entire life for.

“Bad news?” She asked with a worried glance.

“No. Just work. Don’t worry about it.”

The suspicious glance she shot him told him all he needed to know: she didn’t believe a word he’d just said. But it didn’t matter.

They finally reached the Nest, parked the car nearby, and entered the building. They were silent as they went up the stairs, both lost in thought. Dick opened the door to the apartment and was stunned to see someone already sitting in his desk chair. He stopped dead in his tracks, and Smokes bumped right into his back.

“Dick? Everything ok?” She asked, trying her best to peek her head over his shoulder to see what had startled him.

Dick sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “So much for me calling you back, huh, Artemis?”

Artemis was sitting in his chair, legs up and feet crossed on the table, a cup of coffee in her hand. She raised a toast, smiling playfully, and brought the beverage to her lips. “I did tell you we would talk soon.”

“Yeah, I didn’t realize that meant ten minutes after our phone call.” He wanted to sound annoyed, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t seen her in a while, and he was always happy to see his friends. Feeling Smokes still trying to stand on her tiptoes to glance over his shoulder, he stepped to the side and pointed at the other woman. “This is Artemis, my good friend, and another private investigator. And, my pain in the ass, but she will deny it of course.”

She smiled. “I’m a pain in the ass because I tell him truths he doesn’t like hearing. You must be Maverick, right? I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re Dick’s… secretary?”

“Oh, it’s glorified chauffeur now, actually. I’ve been promoted.” Dick nearly choked on his own saliva and turned to look at Smokes. She was eyeing Artemis suspiciously, and he could tell he didn’t quite trust her.

But Artemis didn’t mind. Oh, no. She was smiling widely, a shit-eating grin coating her face. Jesus, she liked Smokes alright. “Ah. Congratulations. Must be quite exciting.”

“Thrilling, truly.” She glanced back at Dick, raising an eyebrow and pouting slightly, but then redirected her attention.

It took him a second to figure out what she was thinking. Artemis seemingly figured it out just as he did.

He turned bright red, flailing his arms around in defense. Christ, he had slept with a lot of women, but not Art. “Oh, no, Smokes, no, no, you got it wrong, I-”

“Oh, no, honey, I may just be the only specimen of the female population that Dick Grayson has never laid his hands on.” Artemis was dangerously close to bursting out laughing.

Smokes raised both her hands and shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Artemis! Don’t put it like that! And don’t laugh! This is not funny.” Dick chastised, still blushing from the implications, but that only made Artemis smile harder.

“What, is that a love declaration, Dildo? Because I am married, y’know? A little late for that.”

“Dildo?” Smokes sounded amused.

“Oh, yeah, we have a spreadsheet with inappropriate nicknames for Dick. I can send it to you if you want.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Christ. Now they were getting along? This was going to be a long day.

“Ok, if you’re done bonding over making fun of my name like horny middle-schoolers, can we please get back to business?”

The two women glanced at him, unimpressed, sighed simultaneously, and gave each other a knowing look. Oh God.

“As much as I hate to agree with Dingo over here, he’s right. We have a lot to cover.”

Dick walked into the room first, shooting a wide-eyed look at Artemis. If there was some Nightwing/Justice League/Tigress business to be dealt with, then they couldn’t do it in front of Smokes. He only hoped she was aware of the fact. But from the serious look on her face, he wasn’t inclined to think she’d just forgotten.

He plopped down on the couch, leaving Tim’s chair to Smokes. Tim had left for Washington to visit Cassie and was out of commission for the rest of the week.

“Alright, Art, what have you got?”

“Yes. So while you were on your break, the rest of us started looking into the box incident. Nice work, by the way.” She turned to Smokes and winked, but the latter only nodded in response. “As you know, we had originally found these documents in a yakuza warehouse during a totally unrelated investigation.”

Dick winced. He hadn’t shared that detail with Smokes; but if she was surprised by this piece of information, her face did not let it show.

Artemis continued. “After you managed to disable the boxes, the yakuza rings we were following disappeared. Well, they’d already started disappearing before, but now we couldn’t get our hands on any of them. Luckily for us, we had the men you guys captured to question, and though they weren’t very chatty at first, we managed to get them to talk. The one-eyed one in particular does not like you.”

“No kidding.” Smokes started playing with her hands awkwardly. They’d never fully discussed what had happened upstairs with the man, but he’d read enough of the police report to know it had been one hell of a fight.

He still remembered hearing the shriek from upstairs. The inhumane, terrified cries that could have only belonged to her. Her screams had made his blood turn cold, had momentarily frozen him; and then it was like a flip had been turned on inside him. He’d never been so violent and quick in his fighting, never been so focused on ending a battle so he could go help someone. When he’d finally managed to go up the stairs, he was half convinced she would already be dead by then. And it would have all been his fault. Again.

He shook those thoughts away. Now was not the time to delve into that.

“Anyhow, they said a lot of interesting things. But the bottom line, Dickie-doo, is that you’re the problem.”

Dick blinked, then pointed a finger at himself. “I’m the problem? Or…” Or is it Nightwing? was the implicit question, the one he couldn’t quite voice because of the third person in the room.

“Nope, it’s you, Richard Grayson, Vogues’ most eligible bachelor, a dirty dog according to all of Gotham, and heir to the Wayne Entreprises Empire.” She swiftly avoided the cushion he threw her way, and turned to the computer. The screen lit up, and a picture of a young, blond man wearing a suit appeared. “This is Kenji Nakamura. Ring any bells?”

“He’s the son of Hideako Nakamura, the C.E.O of Nakamura Tech.” Smokes chimed in, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. “What? We have contracts with them. You sign them pretty often.”

Artemis smiled. “Bingo. Nakamura Tech is the leading tech company in Japan and Singapore right now, and they’re hoping to monopolize all of Southeast Asia by the end of the decade.”

“Alright, but I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Of course you don’t. Well, let me clear that up for you. For starters, Wayne Entreprises was one of Nakamura Tech’s biggest investors. Hence the contracts and partnerships that you signed unknowingly. But Nakamura Tech recently had a huge sexual assault scandal, where many of the employees came forward against one of the most important men in the company. Papa Wayne made the executive decision to stop investing, and their stocks have been dropping ever since. Not only that but since Wayne Entreprises stopped investing in Nakamura Tech, they’ve become competitors in the Southeast. Wayne Entreprises is doing really well and is set to overtake them by next year.”

Dick started thinking. “Right, but how is any of this related to the boxes and Gotham?”

“Well, it certainly gives them a motive. But that’s not all. Kenji has it out for you specifically.”

“What? Why?”

Artemis started rubbing her neck sheepishly, eyes darting around the room. “... you slept with his ex-girlfriend, Dick.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then let out the most exasperated sigh in the history of sighs. “You have got to be fucking kidding me right now. This psycho was ready to blow up a whole city because his ex had sex with me?”

“It’s a perk. Look at it this way: Wayne Entreprises has its headquarters here. Blow up Gotham, and you blow up Wayne Entreprises, its CEO, and his bastard son who slept with your ex. It’s a win-win situation from all points of view.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Art.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a dog and can’t keep little Dickie wrapped up.”

Smokes choked on her saliva and started coughing. She was bright red, and Dick was fairly certain he’d never seen her this flustered. She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her, and he couldn’t blame her. Artemis was smiling like a sneaky fucker, but he could tell she was worried about this situation.

“Artemis, can we talk outside for five minutes, please? Now.”

The blonde nodded, shooting a sympathetic look at Smokes, and strode to the door. Dick whispered “Just five minutes” to the latter as well, and then followed Tigress outside.

The two of them stopped on the building’s doorsteps, Artemis’ arms crossed as she waited for him to arrive.

“Ok. Real talk. What’s going on?” He asked in a hushed tone after making sure nobody could hear them. He didn’t want Smokes to catch wind of this.

“Old Hideako Nakamura is sick, and his son Kenji has gone off the rails. They’ve developed a bunch of illegal, very lethal tech, and he is not afraid to use it. We’re trying to figure out where he hides all of his stuff, but we’ve come up short so far.”

“How are the Nakamuras even related to the yakuza?”

Artemis waved him off dismissively. “Kenji’s mother was the daughter of some great boss or something. The company always did well partially because they have the yakuza’s approval.”

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “Christ. So we need to find this stash of atomic weapons before he uses it to decimate the entirety of Gotham.”

“Bingo.”

“What is the Justice League saying?”

“We’re keeping it hush-hush for now. We don’t want to cause an international incident.”

“When have things ever gone well when we hid things from the League?” Dick’s gaze was hard, but Artemis did not falter. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Every time they weren’t honest with the League, people died.

Like Wally.

And Dick was done losing people he cared about.

“We don’t have a choice, Dick.” The tone of her voice was frigid. The time for pleasantries was over. “If this gets back to the Nakamuras, then they could go ballistic and do something even more drastic.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “More drastic than trying to blow up an entire city?”

“Yes, if they feel like we’re breathing down their necks, they will. We don’t know where they’re keeping all their weapons. The only one who knows that is Kenji, so we need to get our hands on him.”

He exhaled sharply. Well. So much for a fun day with Smokes and her new car. “Ok. Alright. We’ll figure it out. We can do some of the serious work tonight when we go on patrol. But don’t say a word of this to Smokes. I don’t want her involved in the superhero side of this.”

Artemis narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do you even have her working for you, then? You know how it gets. She’s going to be dragged into this mess sooner or later.”

“No. It’s too dangerous. She stays out of the superhero side of this, and that’s final.”

“I know, Dick. Our secret identities are too important. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying she shouldn’t be working for you in this capacity in the first place, because she is bound to get tangled up in our dangerous schemes sooner or later. She already has multiple times.”

“I hadn't realized I needed to justify who I work with and why to you.”

“I’m just saying, if the only reason you’re keeping the poor girl around is to sleep with her, free her. It’s unfair to endanger her like this just because-”

“Oh, fuck you, Artemis.” His sudden outburst startled her, and something close to hurt flashed on her face. But he didn’t care, not when she was insulting him and Smokes like this. “Believe it or not, I have morals, and I don’t just think with my penis. I offered her the job because she couldn’t keep working in that office, and because she’s smart. She’s really good. The job is hers as long as she wants. So quit whining, and make yourself useful, yeah?”

She swallowed and nodded, but didn’t reply. They just stared at each other in silence for a few minutes, neither of them knowing what to add.

He knew he had a reputation. God, he really did. Wally had first coined him “a dog”, and that nickname had stuck. He hadn’t minded when Wally called him that; it wasn’t pejorative, but rather a tad concerned. Concerned for his best friend who couldn’t seem to keep a girlfriend for more than a few months at a time, and that changed women faster than he changed clothes.

He’d gotten considerably better since then. He’d had a pretty serious relationship with Barbara, and he’d stopped sleeping around as much. But no matter how hard he tried, and despite all his friends happily settling down ages ago, he still hadn’t found the one.

He was starting to think she didn’t exist.

Dick was the first to break the quiet. “We should probably go back, Smokes must be wondering where we are.”

Artemis nodded slightly, lips pressed tightly together, and the two of them headed back up the stairs. When they opened the door to the living room, he was surprised to find Smokes typing away on his computer, eyes focused on her screen and chewing her lip between her teeth.

“Huh… Smokes? What are you doing?”

She instantly raised her head, startled by their arrival. “Oh. You guys are back. Good. I just found out where Kenji Nakamura is going to be tomorrow night.”

Artemis and Dick both blinked, then looked at each other with a confused expression before turning their attention back to Smokes. “What?”

“Oh, well, I thought it would be useful to follow him and maybe find out where he’s hiding his weapons. I mean, he had two dozen atomic bombs ready to blow up just a month ago, surely he’s hiding more somewhere.”

“No, yes, but… how did you find out where he’s going to be tomorrow night?”

“Oh! That was easy. So I went through your contracts from the past year, and actually, you stopped signing Nakamura Tech partnerships back in February. But I went further back in time and saw you used to sign dozens of them a year a few years back. So, I called your personal assistant at the time. Edna Calloway?”

Dick’s mouth was hanging wide open, and he could tell Artemis was having a hard time hiding her dismay as well. “I- who?”

Smokes made a pained expression. “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t remember her. She owns a fashion company now, it’s quite successful. She even offered me a free lifetime discount. Oh, and she says fuck you by the way. You were a shit boss, and she still hates your guts.”

“I… ok?”

“Anyways, she told me she used to be close with Kenji Nakamura’s secretary - a real one, for the matter - and that they would talk all the time because of the contracts and partnerships. A certain Lily Galadot. So I gave Lily a call.”

“What did she say?”

“She also says fuck you. Apparently, you slept with her and never called back.”

Artemis burst out laughing so hard she was crying, while Dick groaned. “Oh, for God’s sake. There’s no way I slept with her.”

“Nakamura Charity Ball, June 2023?” Smokes raised an eyebrow at him, playing with the pen in her hand. There was no way he-

Fuck. “Oh my god, I did sleep with her.”

Artemis was now folded in half, practically strangling herself with laughter. “Jesus Christ, Dick, did you sleep with the whole female population of Gotham?”

“Apparently so.” He started rubbing his temples. This was unbelievable.

“Yeah, well, after some bargaining, she let me know she quit her job a few months ago because she’s getting married to some rich golf guy. But, she still had a copy of Kenji’s calendar, and unless there were any drastic changes, he should be attending the “Tech Goes Green” gala tomorrow night. She said he often disappears early into the night to go take care of business because he’s not a huge fan of public events, so with a bit of luck he’ll lead us straight to his stash of weapons.”

There was nothing but pure admiration on his face. This woman… this woman was something else. He had spent ten minutes fighting with Artemis on the doorsteps, and in the meanwhile, she had managed to call two people and get a location for their suspect without batting an eye.

His blue eyes were practically sparkling as he stared into her brown, and he could tell she was a little proud of the trick she’d just pulled. He smiled a wide, toothy grin that made his eyes crinkle. Artemis was looking back and forth between the two of them with an amused gaze.

“Smokes, you are amazing. You genius, cunning, intelligent… wait, hold on, you said you bargained. What did you bargain?”

She looked away, rubbing her neck sheepishly. “Yeah, about that… Lily wants you to explain to her fiance how to… huh… do the thing with the… with the tongue…”

Dick was pretty sure all of Gotham heard Artemis’ guffaw as she physically dropped to the floor and started laughing tears. He’d never seen her laugh like that: her face was completely red, and she looked like she was halfway between passing out and having a stroke.

“Ok… let’s just…”

But he wasn’t able to get any more words in, for Artemis was still laughing louder than a crashing plane, and Smokes had a small, proud expression on her face that told him all he needed to know.

He was in trouble.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Groupchat: Dick has a crush!

Artemis: I take it back, Tim. You were right. He’s totally whipped.

Kaldur: Oh lord.

Tim: I TOLD YOU ALL! I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU!

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
OBJECT: Bargain

Dear Lily,

I hope this email finds you well. I would like to start apologizing for never calling back. It would seem I have a severe commitment issue (my friends’ words, not mine). Nonetheless, I acted like a dick (pun intended), and I owe you an apology.

To make up for my dubious behavior, I will uphold my end of this bargain and explain the trick with the tongue.

So, first, your fiance needs to…

Chapter Text

Smokes wasn’t entirely sure she believed Dick and Artemis hadn’t been romantically involved at some point in their lives.

The way they interacted was just too… synchronized. Sometimes they would just glance at each other, and it felt like they were having a parallel conversation, like they could read each other’s minds.

She wasn’t entirely sure why it bothered her so much either.

She did like Artemis, though. She was so fundamentally different from both Tim and Dick, and it was fun seeing someone so tiny putting someone as imposing as Dick in his place. She was a smart, witty, no-nonsense type of person, and Smokes liked her whole approach to investigating. She just genuinely couldn’t figure out how or why Dick and Artemis could have ever become friends. And why they seemed to be so close, despite Artemis’ wedding ring glinting in the light every now and then.

But she hadn’t dared ask any questions about it. It was none of her business, and they had more important things to worry about.

They had spent the whole day coming up with a plan, and working out all the details: the following evening, they would both tail Kenji Nakamura’s car - a bright blue Tesla - once he left the gala. Artemis would follow him with one car, while Smokes and Dick followed with another. He would then hopefully lead them to his warehouse of weapons, at which point they’d make sure to call authorities for backup. Apparently, they had a contact with the Justice League in case something went wrong (which was very, very weird, but she did not dare ask more about this).

And so the fatal evening had arrived. She had gone to pick Dick up at his apartment - a surprisingly classy yet simple loft in a cute but not overly flashy neighborhood - and they’d driven in relative silence to the Gala’s parking lot. Artemis had suggested wearing comfortable but easily camouflaged clothing, so they were both wearing black from head to toe. She felt a tad ridiculous, like an imposter spy in a bad James Bond movie, but Dick had only laughed earnestly when she’d told him as much.

Afterward, Dick had bribed one of the valets at the gala’s parking lot to let them in, and following his instructions, they’d parked the car in a secluded spot from which they had eyes on Kenji Nakamura’s Tesla (seriously, that car was hideous. Why did rich people always spend so much money on such tacky things?).

And now they were sitting, waiting patiently for Kenji Nakamura to grow bored of the event. Well, Dick was waiting patiently, looking as if he’d done this his entire life. Smokes couldn’t stop her fidgeting, switching sitting positions every few minutes, nor could she stop her treacherous train of thoughts. Why in the world was she so concerned about whether or not Dick and Artemis had slept together?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Dick’s voice startled her so hard she physically jumped in her seat, hitting her head on the headliner of the car. She hissed in pain as she started rubbing her head, and Dick had the nerve to laugh beside her. “Wow there, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. What has you so pent up?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She froze when his hand reached for her head, checking gently for any signs of bruises or serious pain. The way his fingers moved, threading through her hair so lovingly was so soothing, so relaxing, that she had to withhold the moan of relief that threatened to spill over. Of course, this man was also a massage master.

“No, seriously, you’ve been agitated the whole evening.” He ruffled her hair before finally letting go of her scalp, and the absence of his touch was jarringly soul-crushing.

She furrowed her eyebrows, turning sideways to face him. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. I know you. You have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“That look when you’re confused, or when you’re trying to figure something out. Is this because it’s the first time we’re tailing someone? Because I know I didn’t really prepare you for this, but-”

“What? No, that’s not it. I’m not worried about tailing someone.”

“You’re not?” He didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Seriously. I read some articles and tips last night, and I’m good. It’s not that hard, it’s all about not panicking.”

He blinked in surprise. Something akin to fondness flashed across his face. “You read some articles?”

“Well, yeah. This is my job, I want to do it right.” She replied sheepishly, though she couldn’t figure out why she was so self-conscious all of a sudden. She had just read some material to avoid being totally distraught tonight, it wasn’t revolutionary or anything.

“Well, why didn’t you just call me and ask? Do you know how many people I’ve tailed in my life?”

“It’s fine, really. I didn’t want to bother you. You were probably busy with Artemis or something.”

The air in the car suddenly felt suffocatingly warm, and she immediately regretted they she’d said that. She hadn’t meant for it to come out so venomous. She had no reason to care about this, truly. Dick’s face was impenetrable; she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Ah.” He said after a few beats of silence. “So this is what this is about. You’re jealous.”

“What? No, I’m not!” She sputtered indignantly, shaking her head wildly. “Why would I ever be jealous?”

“Fine, fine, maybe you’re not jealous. But you don’t believe we’ve never slept together.”

She opened her mouth to refute him instinctively but fell short of a reply. Dammit. He knew her well. And she didn’t like lying to him, not when he’d know regardless. “How did you and Artemis meet?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally settling on: “Summer camp. All our friend group did.”

“Friend group?” She watched as Dick rummaged through his pockets and grabbed his wallet. He turned it in his hands thoughtfully a few times before finally opening a secret pocket and carefully grabbing an old, thoroughly run-down photograph. He handed it over to her without managing to raise his eyes to meet hers, and she carefully picked it up.

She was barely breathing as she started inspecting the picture, scared that one wrong movement would have it crumbling into dust. The print was old, probably nearing 20 years of age, and depicted a group of young teenagers smiling and waving at the camera. Smokes immediately spotted Dick amongst the group: he was smaller than the others, wearing a ridiculous pair of sunglasses, but the smirk on his face was unmistakably his. She scanned the rest of the group and spotted Artemis next. She looked practically the same, but her smile was somewhat lighter, happier. She was wrapped in the arms of a young boy with wild red hair and a toothy grin; but the boy wasn’t looking at the camera, he was looking at her with the most loving look in his eyes.

She couldn’t recognize the rest of the group. Still, she spotted another couple in the back, a goofy red-haired girl with an awkward-looking tall boy beside her, a tall boy with platinum-blond hair and dark skin, a blue-eyed girl with gorgeous jet-black hair, another girl with short brown hair, and an auburn-haired boy.

They must have been all between fourteen and sixteen years old, and judging by their smiles, they were carefree, with no worries in sight, and truly happy with one another.

She momentarily envied that careless happiness. She hadn’t felt it in a long time, and she was afraid she never would again.

“Nice sunglasses.” She commented while still inspecting the picture.

Dick smiled. “Yeah. I had a phase. It wasn’t great. Everybody told me but I-”

“- you were stubborn. I can imagine.” He chuckled as she completed his sentence. “So you all still keep in touch? How long ago was this picture taken?”

“15 summers ago.” He sighed, resting his head on his seat and closing his eyes. “Yeah, we’re all still very close. We attended a lot of camps together after that and spent our college years driving up and down the country to be together.”

“Ah.” She’d never had a friend group like that. She’d always had Cora and Ember, but that was different. “And so what, you never dated any of your friends?”

He grinned, laughing a little as he opened his eyes. “Oh, no, I did. Zee was my first conquest. And when Raquel and Kal broke up, I had a fling with Raquel.”

She whistled. “Well, damn, so much for bros before hoes.”

“Well, Kal did figure out he was gay in the meantime, so I’m not sure he minded all that much.”

“How convenient for you.”

“It truly was.” He gave her another playful grin, but she could tell it was off. His blue eyes were shadowed, as if something were weighing them down.

“Alright, so you slept with everyone but Artemis?”

“I’m not that much of a pig, I promise. I didn’t sleep with M’gann either.” He pointed at the goofy red-haired girl. “See the guy standing next to her? That’s Conner. They got married in 2020. They have two kids now, twin boys called Matt and John, and let me tell you they’re a pair of devils.”

She gave the two people he’d identified as M’gann and Conner a closer look. They did look cute and in love, but then again who didn’t at that age? Her gaze landed once again on the boy whose arms were wrapped around Artemis. He was the only one in the whole picture who wasn’t looking at the camera. She pointed at him. “Who’s that?

There was a long silence, and she momentarily wondered if she’d forgotten to speak the question out loud. She raised her head, ready to repeat it, but the look in Dick’s eyes stopped her right in her tracks. His blue gaze was fixed on the boy, a sad, wistful haze coating his figures.

“That’s Wally. My best friend.” He eventually drawled after a few more moments of silence.

“Oh.” God, she was an asshole. Of course, he hadn’t slept with Artemis if she was going out with his best friend. That must have been why the two of them found the idea of them being together so ridiculous. “And he and Artemis...?”

“Yeah. He claimed he had a crush on M’gann, but I always knew Artemis was the one for him. I think we all let out a collective sigh of relief when they finally got together. They were made for each other.”

She frowned. Why was he talking in the past tense? But she didn’t dare interrupt him, not when he looked so nostalgic, practically mournful.

“They went to college together. Stanford and all. The two smartest people we knew. I was a terrible, college student, awful really, and spent most of my semesters at their apartment down in California. And they always let me stay, no questions asked.”

Had things ended then? Were they no longer together? Was he on good terms with both of them? She hadn’t heard him mention Wally up until now. Did they no longer talk? Surely they still kept in touch if he was so close to Artemis.

“They just… made sense, you know? Even to the people around them. Seeing them together was enough to soothe anyone. It was the most peaceful 6 years of everybody’s lives.”

Ah. Six years. They were no longer together then. She waited for more, but Dick didn’t open his mouth to speak. “They broke up?” She finally dared a question.

She regretted the question almost as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. Dick’s demeanor shifted entirely, and his whole body froze. His eyes were stuck on Wally’s figure in the photograph. He was completely immobile, barely breathing, and she briefly wondered if he had actually died on the spot.

There were a few beats of silence before Dick finally sighed, running a hand through his hair. She’d never seen him so utterly exhausted. He’d aged ten years in the span of a second. “Wally passed away. Car accident. He didn’t even get to graduate college.”

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god, his best friend was dead and this whole time she’d been implying that he’d been sleeping with his dead best friend’s girlfriend oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh-

“Dick, I’m so sorry, I-”

He stopped her with a small, nonchalant wave. The mournful look was gone from his eyes, and she guessed he was about to bottle all that back down. “It’s alright. You couldn’t have known. It’s been a long time, it’ll be eleven years in June. Everybody has moved on. Even Artemis has moved on, she’s happily married and free now. There’s no reason for me to still be mourning like this.”

His words were like a sucker punch in the gut. Christ. Wally had been his best friend, and she’d seen up close just how much Dick cared for and cherished his loved ones. Losing his best friend so young and in such a tragic way must have dealt him a massive blow.

Did he truly believe everybody was moving on but him? Was he desperately trying to hold onto memories of Wally because he feared the world would forget him if he didn’t? This was no way to live. No way to move forward. Perhaps she was a hypocrite for wanting him to move forward, to find a way to live with the pain like Artemis and his other friends had, when she herself was utterly stuck in the past. But Dick was a good, kind, compassionate person. He deserved better.

“He was your best friend, Dick. There’s nothing wrong with mourning him and missing him.”

His blue eyes, filled with ardor and grief, met her brown. “Even after ten years?”

“Especially after ten years. Moving on doesn’t mean just forgetting about him and erasing him from your life. It means being able to remember him without having to put your entire life on hold.”

He opened his mouth to add something else, but movement outside the car caught his attention. He whipped his head instantly, and she followed suit, eyes landing on Kenji Nakamura’s figure as he unlocked his blue Tesla.

“That’s him. Time to follow him, Smokes.” The melancholy and sadness were gone from his voice, it was back to its usual time to take care of everyone and everything tone.

There were so many more things she wanted to tell him. She didn’t want that conversation to end, but it looked like the universe had other plans for her.

“On it.” She replied decisively, waiting for Kenji to drive away before turning the car back on. This would have to wait.

She started following the unmistakable blue car from afar. Its ugliness was ironically serving a purpose, for it was impossible to lose sight of the disgustingly bright shade of blue sparkling in the night. Artemis called Dick shortly to confirm she was also following Kenji from another vehicle and hung up promptly.

Smokes made sure to keep a proper distance, while also making sure to never lose the car. The tension in the car was palpable, both she and Dick entirely focused on the task at hand. His eyes were constantly darting between the cars in front of them, seemingly inspecting the traffic and potential setbacks. His right hand was fisted in his lap, clenching and unclenching every few seconds; she’d never seen him so tense.

Perhaps she should have been more tense, given that they were hopefully following a criminal to a lair supposedly filled with nuclear weapons. Yet she couldn’t feel anything, just an intense will to do her job right.

45 minutes later, Kenji finally stopped his car in front of a suspicious-looking abandoned train station in the middle of a truck depo. The endless sea of parked trucks allowed them to hide easily and watch as he stepped out of his vehicle and confidently strode into the building.

They waited a few minutes in silence, making sure nobody was watching them and that Kenji wasn’t about to step outside of the building.

“The coast looks clear,” Dick muttered as he dialed Artemis’ number.

The call rang long before it eventually ended on voicemail. Dick frowned at his phone screen and tried calling again. No answer. Smokes started anxiously tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as he continued attempting to call Artemis, in vain. Something was wrong.

She watched as Dick looked back and forth between his screen and the abandoned station, and she instantly recognized that look on your face.

“Don’t you even think about going in.” She started, trying to sound menacing. “This place could be filled to the brim with nuclear weapons. You’re not equipped to deal with this. We should call your Justice League contact and wait for them to deal with this.”

But her words fell on deaf ears, for she could tell he wasn’t even listening to her. His brain was probably already trying to devise a plan to save Artemis from whatever hypothetical thing had happened to her. He wanted to be a hero again, and she wasn’t sure why it scared her so much. Maybe it was because she knew how easily he was willing to risk his life for others, and she was genuinely worried about his lack of concern for his own safety.

He suddenly turned to her. “I’m going in. I need you to stay in the car, ok?”

“Did you not listen to a word I said? This is way too-”

“-dangerous, I know, I know. But something is wrong, Artemis should be picking up. So I will be going in, and you’ll stay here.” His voice was stern and commanding, but Smokes was having none of it.

“Absolutely not. You cannot just- hey! Dick!”

Her sentence was cut off from the sound of the door slamming in her face. Dick was already out of the car, jogging lightly to the entrance of the abandoned station, turning his head left and right to assess any potential danger.

Damn him. Why were men so dumb?

She watched as he finally reached the door, only opening it enough to slide in and disappear in the dark. The whole deposit fell silent after that; even the birds had stopped chirping.

She could barely breathe as she stared at the door, breath hitching every time she thought she saw it move. But it was all in her head, for nothing had ever been as immobile as that door.

Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. Then thirty. She kept glancing at her watch, cursing every time five more minutes went by. There was something wrong.

She rested her head on the steering wheel, sighing loudly, and started racking her brain for solutions. First, Artemis had disappeared. Then, it had been Dick. Something was obviously very off with this whole place. And the worst part was, she had no plan. Nothing. Nada. Dick hadn’t given her the Justice League contact, so she couldn’t call them directly. And even if she did call the police, they’d probably think her crazy when she claimed she “knew where a bunch of nuclear weapons are being hidden”. Which was technically a false statement, for she wasn’t entirely sure weapons were being hidden in the building in the first place. Maybe Kenji secretly liked collecting Pokemon cards or something along those lines.

She had two options: either sit back and pray everything would be alright or… go in and pray everything would be alright. (A whole lot of praying was involved for something that had absolutely nothing to do with religion).

And of course, being the dumb idiot she was, she decided to go with the second option. Because she knew that if Dick had been in her position, he would have never hesitated to barge into that building to save her from any potential dangers.

She breathed a prayer to whatever gods were watching over her and opened the car door. She started slowly creeping towards the building’s door, zigzagging between the parked trucks and using them as cover to scope the perimeter. The place was still dead silent, no birds chirping or crickets trilling, and it was perhaps the most eerie part of the whole situation.

She eventually reached the door, which was still slightly ajar from when Dick had slipped inside. She tried to peek inside, but it was too dark to make anything out. She regretted not bringing her phone along with her. Or her taser. Her taser would have been really useful right about now. She took a deep breath, ran a hand through her hair, and finally slid into the building.

Darkness.

Everything was dark.

Really, really dark.

Her eyes took multiple minutes to adjust to the darkness as she took tentative steps into the building. If she squinted enough, she could make out rows and rows of stacked boxes. The more she squinted, the more she realized it was an endless sea of boxes. They were everywhere, neatly organized in rows and columns, piled from floor to ceiling, separated by wide corridors of space to walk from one row to another.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she quietly approached one of the less tall heaps of boxes, breath hitching as he hands brushed against the lid. Her fingers were practically trembling with anticipation when she pulled off the lid and slid it to the side.

The horror hit her as soon as her eyes landed on the gun. The gigantic, imposing rifle, was equipped with chemical bottles; and in bright red, on the handle, you could read “Warning: Nuclear Danger”.

Kenji Nakamura had built literal nuclear guns. He wasn’t just planning on blowing up Gotham; he wanted to give people the means to detonate atomic explosions to their heart’s desire.

She was going to be sick. She could feel the bile rising in her throat. She needed to warn Dick, needed to find him and-

A sudden flash of light blinded her, and her arms flew up to cover her face instinctively. She could barely make out two figures standing in front of her, shining a flashlight right in her eyes.

“There’s an intruder in the building!” One of the men said in Japanese, seemingly talking into a walkie-talkie.

She didn’t stick around to hear the reply from the person on the other line and started running in the opposite direction. She had a feeling she already knew what they were going to say, and she didn’t think it would have been in her favor.

The two men started shouting in Japanese, crying “Stop her! Get the girl! Get her!”, and she did her best to tune out their voices. She needed to lose them, as quickly as possible, before they caught her and did god only knew what to her.

She started slaloming in between the rows of boxes, turning left then right then left, desperately trying to lose the men running after her. Their footsteps sounded like they had multiplied, and she didn’t dare look back to see if more men had joined the chase. She needed to outsmart them, and she needed to do it quickly.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a smaller stack of boxes, and her brain came up with a plan on the fly. It was a go big or go home type of plan, but she didn’t exactly have much of a choice.

She started running faster, weaving left and right, as she circled the row of boxes she’d spotted. She could hear more shouts and steps behind her, but she was entirely focused on her task. After a few more minutes of running around (thank god for Dick’s cardio boot camp, though she would never admit it out loud), she finally reached the spot she wanted: she was perpendicular to the smaller row of boxes, only thirty meters away, and she was running towards it at full speed.

She was going to jump over it.

She was going to jump right over it, and hopefully confuse the men chasing her long enough to get rid of them for good.

Twenty meters away.

She started picking up speed, breath getting heavy as he eyes locked onto the stack of boxes. It didn’t look like it was taller than a meter. She could do it. She could do this.

Ten meters away.

Was the stack really only a meter tall? Now that she was closer, it looked suspiciously taller.

Five meters away.

Shit. This stack was definitely taller than what she’d assumed. It was at least two meters tall. There was no way she could jump over that. She dared to turn her head back to check on the men and instantly regretted it. There were at least half a dozen of them now, angry-looking and red, and growing closer by the second.

Well, shit. There was no way around the stack. She would have to jump. She didn’t have a choice.

As Smokes approached the stack of boxes, she counted to three in her head and went for it.

Everything after that felt like slow motion.

Smokes jumped, a feeble, weak attempt at a jump, eyes widening in horror as she realized she was going to crash right into the crates of nuclear weapons, blowing up the entire building - and probably the entire city of Gotham - in the process. She closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate.

And then a pair of strong arms was whisking her away, grabbing onto her waist and whooshing in the air, away from the crate and the angry men.

When she dared to open her eyes, her face was met with a broad chest. This mystery figure was wearing a black suit, but she could faintly make out a blue bird with its wings expanded.

She blinked in confusion, raising her head to look at her mysterious savior. The black and white domino mask confirmed what she’d already suspected.

It was a vigilante.

Chapter Text

To say Smokes was terrified of heights was an understatement and did no justice to the absolute fucking terrifying fear she had of heights. Seriously.

Her eyelids were shut close as she felt the world spin around her, her ears ringing as the air whooshed past her and she swung in an unknown direction.

Not only that, but she wasn’t just swinging alone. No, no, she was swinging in the arms of a vigilante. And what was perhaps worse, she had no idea who this vigilante was.

Vigilantes weren’t really a thing in Europe. Back in Oxford, she only knew of that one magician guy up in London (John Crooke? Crooke Johnson? Something along those lines, but she had never cared enough to remember his name), and there just weren’t that many supervillain attacks on her side of the continent. Well, there was technically Markovia, but metahumans tended to stick to their land only.

Either way, she had no clue who this one was. She knew Gotham’s main superhero was Batman, and that he had a bunch of bird-type of helpers, but other than that she was entirely lost. This guy’s suit was blue - from the little she’d seen before closing her eyes in fear -, what could his name possibly be? Bluebird? Birdieblues? Bluebat?

Oh god. She was going to make a fool of herself again.

The vigilante was holding onto her tightly, one strong arm wrapped around her waist while the other used whatever device he had to swing in the air. She could feel the well-defined muscles through the spandex suit, the white-knuckle grip he had on her; he was holding onto her for dear life, as if nothing mattered more than her in the entire world, and she was fairly certain he wasn’t going to drop her. His breath was brushing against her ear, and despite the important physical effort, it wasn’t labored or ragged in any way.

Smokes squeaked when she felt the man drop onto the ground, wrapping his other arm around her. Her eyes were still closed as he slowly peeled himself away from her, placing his hands on her arms and shaking her slightly.

“Hey. Hey. Everything ok? Are you hurt?”

Her eyes instantly flew open at his voice. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and realized they were no longer inside the abandoned train station and were now standing on the rooftop of an adjacent building.

Her gaze finally landed on the man in front of her. He was… ok, yeah, he was athletic alright. Clearly went to the gym often. Dark black hair framed his face, some locks resting on his forehead, and the black and blue spandex suit showed off every curve and line of his well-defined muscles. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, his mouth pressed in a tight line, and though his eyes were obscured by the black and white domino mask, she could sense the worry in them.

“I… I’m ok. I think?” Her head still felt dizzy from all the flying around, but she wasn’t hurt. She was confused more than anything. Who was this man and how had he gotten here?

“Are you sure? Your eyes were shut and you were hanging onto me like a koala, are you certain you’re alright?” His hands were still on her arms, rubbing up and down, jaw tense as he scanned her body for any sign of wounds.

She gasped in disdain, batting his hands away and taking a step back. “A koala? I was not hanging onto you like a koala!”

Her fervent reply seemed to calm him down, and a small smirk appeared on his face. “You were holding onto me for dear life.”

“Well, obviously, since you were swinging around like a crazed monkey in heat!”

“AH! A monkey in heat? I have never heard that one bef- oh my god, are you afraid of heights?”

Her cheeks crimsoned at the accusation and he started laughing at her. “I am not afraid of heights! I am just very rationally aware of the possible dangers of heights.”

“Oh my god, this is too funny, to think that of all things, this is what you’re scared of.”

The situation was frankly mortifying. Here she was, standing on a random rooftop near an abandoned train station in the middle of the night, being laughed at by a vigilante - whose name she still did not know - because she was super duper rationally scared of heights. Whatever she’d thought was rock bottom before, was nothing compared to this.

The vigilante was still laughing, a hand on his stomach as he was practically folded in half from his giggles when she took a look at the train station. Lights were turning on left and right and shots were going off; there was definitely a fight happening. She only hoped Artemis and Dick-

Oh my god. Dick. Where was Dick? Was he ok? Was he hurt? Had he been captured?

She started to panic, flailing her arms around. “Hey, hey, my friend Dick is in there! You need to go and do something!”

The man straightened, still laughing slightly as he wiped tears away. “What?”

“Hey! Don’t be like that! Dick is in there, he went in there ages ago, and there’s a fight going on! You need to save him!”

Whatever she had said caused the vigilante to erupt in boisterous laughter yet again, which only served to make her angrier. This was a serious matter of life and death! Dick could be dead, and this idiot was just laughing on a rooftop!

Smokes lightly hit him on the arm, pushing him back slightly, voice growing angrier. “I’m being serious! Dick could be in grave danger! You need to save him!” She was practically fuming as the vigilante kept giggling, smacking him again. “Stop laughing and go save him!”

“Hey, hey, hey, no need to hit me!” His voice still sounded jolly and careless, as if nothing was wrong, and it only infuriated her more.

“Well then stop being an ass and do your job!”

“Hey, hey, calm down. Dick is fine.”

She stopped instantly, blinking at him in confusion. “He is?”

“Yeah. Dick is… a friend. He called. I already brought him to safety, he’s fine. He was more worried about you.”

His voice was earnest, and despite not being able to read his gaze, his jaw was relaxed and he looked sincere. Something was… oddly familiar. Every bone of this man’s body radiated reassurance, a reassurance she was sure she’d experienced before, but she couldn’t quite remember when.

“Oh.” She mumbled. Well, now she just felt dumb for bullying a vigilante for something he’d already done. “You’re the backup then?”

He nodded. “Yup. That’s me. You didn’t think Dick would just go into an abandoned train station with no backup plan now, did you?”

“Well… he’s not always the smartest tool in the shed.”

He smiled at the comment, a playful, toothy smile that felt so intimate and… she just couldn’t figure out where she’d seen it before. “Careful there, or I’ll tell him you called him dumb next time I see him.”

“Next time you see him? Do you guys know each other well?” She raised an eyebrow at him. What in the world? What kind of P.I. was buddies with a vigilante? Dick Grayson truly was a mystery.

The man started sheepishly rubbing his neck. “I… yeah, you could say that. A lot of our investigations end up overlapping, so we exchange information here and there.”

“Ah.” She didn’t know what to do with this newfound information, she would need to interrogate Dick later. “Well, where is he then?”

“Don’t worry about him, I brought him somewhere safe. Artemis too.” Oh yeah. She’d forgotten all about the young woman.

She nodded at his statement. “Ok. Bring me to him, then.”

“Huh… yeah, that won’t be possible.”

“What? Why?”

“Well… Dick is safe, but he’s helping… us out, so it’s all confidential. He told me to tell you to stay put and safe, and that he’ll send someone to get you once the fight is over.”

She gaped at him, eyebrows furrowed in anger. “What? There is no way I will sit here on this rooftop while you guys take care of everything! I want to see Dick!”

“No can do.” He shook his head at her. “I have strict orders. You need to stay here. The fight is almost over, I promise. I’ll send someone to get you as soon as the coast is clear.”

Something in what he was saying wasn’t making sense to her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what had struck her. Either way, there was no way she was just going to accept her fate like this.

“Well, you can’t just leave me stranded here! I can be useful!”

He started walking backward, reaching for some sort of grapple gun in his utility belt. “I’m really sorry, orders are orders. This is for your own good. I’ll be as quick as possible, you have my word.”

Smokes realized what was happening too late. She barely had time to take two steps, reaching out her hands in front of her to grab onto him, before the vigilante jumped backward from the rooftop, flashing her an apologetic smile, and disappearing from her view. Her hands closed around the air, and she watched the vigilante use the grapple gun to jump onto another roof.

“Hey! Come back here Mr. I have no clue what your vigilante name is!” She shouted in the darkness, receiving another boisterous laughter in return.

“The name is Nightwing!”

And that was the last thing she heard from him, his figure disappearing into the night as if it had never been there.

“Fuck.” She cursed, throwing her head back and placing her hands on her hips, realizing she was stuck. Stuck on a random rooftop, in the middle of the night, with no way to get down until someone came to get her. And her fate solely depended on two idiotic men.

Fuck.

She wasn’t just going to sit here and wait for other people to save her. She started scanning the rooftop and immediately spotted the bulkhead with its rusty, brown door. She practically ran to it, reaching for the doorknob and pushing the door, but it was no use. It was completely stuck. She looked around for anything she could use to open it, but the rooftop was justifiably empty.

She kicked the door in frustration, hurting her foot in the process and causing her to wince in pain. Why was the universe so against her tonight?

She started pacing anxiously on the rooftop, glancing at the abandoned train station every five seconds. Even from where she was standing, which was pretty far away, she could hear the sounds of glass shattering, men screaming, and crates falling over. She hoped none of the atomic guns would go off, otherwise it would mean the end for Gotham.

Things started shifting an hour after the so-called Nightwing had stranded her on the rooftop for her own good when police cars suddenly appeared. There were at least two dozen, and some special ops trucks were following right behind. Men were rushing left and right, guns in hand, circling the building, giving signs to enter the zone. Another half hour, and they were coming back out with their first criminals; mostly Japanese henchmen, from what she could tell.

But no sight of Dick. Smokes was worried sick, more than she was willing to admit to herself. She knew he was a skilled fighter and that he could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean he was invincible. He was always so selfless, putting his safety and well-being last, and she was terrified that one day it would come at a great cost.

Well. No. She wasn’t terrified. Was she? That thought would be inappropriate. He was her boss, she was the employee. She couldn’t worry about him like this. But, he was still human. A terribly stupid yet altruistic and generous human. How could she not care? Oh God, she prayed Dick was alright.

Shit. This line of thought was bringing her nowhere, only serving to increase her anxiety.

Just as she vaguely made out an officer walking out of the building with a handcuffed Kenji Nakamura, the bulkhead’s door snapped open, revealing a panting but otherwise safe Artemis.

“Artemis!” She instantly exclaimed, running to her and hugging her. The gesture seemed to catch the blonde off-guard, but she quickly returned it. They technically didn’t know each other that well, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t just gone through a very dangerous and life-threatening experience together. Hugging was appropriate.

Artemis broke the hug first. “Maverick! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine! Are you ok? Dick couldn’t get ahold of you and- is Dick fine? Is he safe? That vigilante ass said he was but-”

“Dick’s fine, don’t worry.” The blonde’s smile was a little suspicious. “I’m sorry I wasn’t replying. Some of Nakamura’s henchmen spotted me, and I had to outrun them. It was quite the car chase, though nothing will ever compare to you driving Dick’s car right off Greenpoint Avenue’s bridge.”

Smokes sighed, shaking her head. “That was… not done by choice. It was a go big or go home type of situation.”

“Well, it was epic. I pulled up the footage from the street cameras and rewatch it every now and then. But anyway, once I outdrove them our backup arrived and then things got hectic. Come on, let’s go down, I’ll bring you to Dick.”

“Yes.” She breathed anxiously as she followed the blonde down the stairs. She’d been worried sick about Dick. That fucking idiot. How dumb did a man have to be to walk into a known terrorist’s weapon lair with no way to defend yourself? She was going to give him an earful when she saw him.

The two women eventually reached the main road in front of the station, which was already delimited by police tape; police officers, paramedics, FBI agents, and all kinds of law enforcement employees were swarming the place. People were shouting, running back and forth, exchanging documents and evidence, and trying to find traces of the vigilantes. Smokes knew Batman was on decent terms with the NYPD, but that probably didn’t mean the police didn’t want to arrest him.

Artemis confidently weaved her way through the crowd, grabbing onto Smokes’ sleeve when she realized the latter was having a harder time imposing herself in the sea of people. They eventually reached a more secluded area, where three figures were hunched over a table, seemingly inspecting some papers.

Smokes’ gaze instantly found Dick. The man was talking animatedly yet seriously with two FBI agents, pointing at the papers on the table and gesturing with his hands. He looked sweaty and somewhat tired, but she thankfully couldn’t make out any bruises or visible wounds. The sight of his figure, safe and sound, stopped her right in her tracks, and she felt an invisible weight she didn’t even know she was carrying being lifted from her shoulders.

He was fine. He was safe, and ok, and in one piece. Just like Nightwing had promised.

She let out a breath, shoulders slumping in relief, her mouth forming something that almost resembled a smile. Almost. She normally couldn’t remember the last time she’d smile, sometimes even doubted she was still able to do it. But with Dick… with him, she felt alive. With him, she felt as if everything was possible. Even smiling.

Sometimes Dick felt like the sun. Bright and burning and happy, selfless and loved by all. For a long time, she’d been scared of people like him, jealous even. But Dick… he was different. Because she didn’t feel blinded and overwhelmed by him. She felt safe. Alive. At peace.

She hadn’t felt that in a long while.

Her brown eyes were practically burning into him when he finally raised his blue and saw her. He stopped speaking abruptly, mouth slightly ajar, and gaze fixed onto her, burning back with the same intensity. He blinked, scanning her up and down to make sure she was alright, then smiled. A wide, toothy grin, that was now familiar. That felt like home.

There was a small pause, and it felt like the world around them stopped as they stared at each other, content with simply basking in the image of each other, safe and sound.

She watched as he mumbled something to the two agents, seemingly excusing himself, dropping whatever he was doing, and jogging straight to her. She could only blink as he grew closer, stopping just a couple of steps in front of her, head bowed down to meet her brown eyes. There it was again, that intensity in his eyes that both terrified and delighted her. That concern for her forever etched on his features. That face that screamed I care. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to care or not.

Which was why, rationally, the only answer to his gaze was to smack him repeatedly on the arm.

Dick yelped, taking a step backwards to try and escape her, but Smokes followed him, continuing to hit on both arms. “Hey! Smokes! What the hell?”

“You are an absolute fucking idiot, Dick Grayson!” Hit. “How could you just barge into a nuclear lair with no backup?” Hit. “Seriously what was going on in that peanut brain of yours?” Hit. “You could have gotten seriously hurt, you know that, right?” Hit.

Dick grabbed her hands as she was about to hit him again, holding onto them tightly as she tried to wiggle her way out of his grasp. “Hey. Hey. Ok. I get it. I was an irresponsible asshole, I know.”

She exhaled, raising her gaze to meet his, trying to match the intensity in his eyes, to convey the worry she’d felt despite herself. Her voice came out soft. “Dick.”

“Smokes.” He breathed back, blue eyes never leaving her. His hands were still holding onto hers.

“You could have seriously gotten hurt.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

There was another silence. Smokes could barely breathe with the way he continued to look at her, apologetic and hopeful and relieved. Happy. Happy to see her. Her.

“Don’t ever do that again.” She finally said, placing her index finger on his chest accusingly.

He smiled. “It was a one-time thing, I promise.”

“And don’t you ever send that vigilante to babysit me again.”

“You mean the vigilante whom you told I was dumb?” His grin grew wider, smirking as she rolled her eyes. “What was it that you said exactly? I’m not the smartest tool in the shed?”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.“Oh wow, your buddy really tells you everything, doesn’t he? Does he also help you wipe your butt when you go to the bathroom or?”

He laughed, gently nudging her towards the car. “Come on, I’ll tell you while we head back home.”

Artemis watched as the improbable duo started walking away, bickering like an old couple under the moonlight, Dick’s eyes crinkled in happiness, so clearly filled with love and tenderness for the young woman that it caused her breath to catch in her throat.

She had never seen him look at any other woman like that.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Private chat: Tim

Artemis: Tim. I think he’s actually in love with her.

Tim: WHAT?

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

from: [email protected]
to: all headquarters second floor emails
OBJECT: Investigation and Recent Terminations

Dear all,

As you are certainly aware, Wayne Entreprises has been undergoing a company-wide sexual harassment and discrimination investigation. You have all been interrogated and observed these past few weeks within the framework of this investigation, as I am sure you are already aware.

COCOX, the external company leading the investigation, has finally reached a verdict. 80% of Wayne Entreprises offices will be rearranged and recomposed over the following months, to stop the propagation of these unacceptable discriminations and to isolate instances of aforementioned behavior. Additionally, a staggering 10% of employees were found to be violating workspace regulations and thus terminated.

Unfortunately, it is with great regret that I must inform you that our company is a part of this 80%, scoring only 3/10 on COCOX’s “inclusive and safe workspace” scale. Those of you who have been terminated have already been notified, and I will keep the rest of you up to date on your transfers and future rearrangements.

It has been an honor to be your manager these past years, and I hope we will all find new situations that suit our needs.

Kind Regards,
Jessica Hallard

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
OBJECT: COCOX Investigation Results

Dear Sally,

In light of the results of your personal COCOX investigation results, it is with great regret that I must inform you that Wayne Entreprises has made the decision to let you go and terminate your contract.

You will find attached to this email…

Chapter Text

Lying to Smokes was not something Dick did out of pleasure or his own will.

He hated lying to her, especially given just how many times she’d been willing to put her life on the line for him and others. But in this case, he felt it was necessary. He hadn’t missed the way she’d scanned his body when she’d arrived with Artemis, the way she looked exhausted and so, so worried for him. He couldn’t worry her more, and he knew that revealing his identity as Nightwing would only cause her further concern.

But Smokes was a smart, witty woman, and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d managed to fool her. Their conversation had gone something like this:

“So, just to be clear, you’re telling me you’re buddies with a vigilante who calls himself Nightwing?”

Dick winced. “Huh… yes? Why do you sound so judgmental about the name? It’s a cool name.”

“It sounds like something I would have come up with when I was 13.”

“It does not!” He gasped in feigned dismay, but the young woman was absolutely unbothered.

“But that’s beside the point! How in the world does a private investigator become friends with a vigilante?”

“I told you, Gotham is odd. We tend to investigate the same things, so we’ve exchanged information over the years.”

She nodded, deep in thought, and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “So… you don’t know his secret identity?”

“No.” He replied immediately, and he hoped it wasn’t too fast. Smokes raised an eyebrow at him.

“And do you know him well?”

“Not really. It’s mostly a professional friendship. We’ve done some stake-outs together a couple of times, but we don’t see each other outside of work.”

He watched her tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, looking out in the darkness, clearly trying to digest all this new information. “I thought our backup was the Justice League.”

“Vigilantes often end up working with the League. It’s not surprising they sent Nightwing, since he’s Gotham-based.”

“But the Justice League is an official organization, whereas Nightwing is just… a vigilante. Shouldn’t they be looking to arrest him?”

He smiled at her. She never missed anything. “Let’s just say the Justice League closes an eye for some vigilantes it deems non-dangerous. There’s an outsider circuit of sorts.”

“Ah.” She took a sharp turn right, and Dick knew they were getting closer to his house. “And so, you’re a part of this circuit?”

“Barely. Just when there are some things I can’t take care of as a civilian.”

“Like for example rushing into a nuclear weapons lair with no means to defend yourself?” She scolded, an unimpressed yet relieved look on her face. Her reproachful gaze caused him to laugh.

“Yes. Just that. You know, you’re quite judgmental for someone who did the exact same thing and followed me inside not even an hour after I did.”

“Well yeah! You were both gone and I was worried something had happened!” She exclaimed indignantly. “You gave me no choice.”

He smirked. “Well, at least I didn’t need someone to save my ass. According to Nightwing, you were hanging onto him like a-”

“I was NOT hanging onto him like a koala!”

The conversation had ended with his boisterous laughter and her flustered demeanor. She’d dropped him off in front of his apartment complex before driving off without saying a word (he was still laughing, and she obviously wasn’t taking the teasing very well).

Part of Dick felt like crap for lying to her like this. She deserved to know the truth, especially if she continued to work for him - and he secretly hoped she would be here for a long time. It was perhaps selfish of him to hope for it, but he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t felt so alive and fulfilled in a long time, and he liked working with her. He didn’t want to lose that.

But the longer she kept working for him, the more likely she would be to discover his secret identity and be pulled into his world; he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to endanger her like this. She’d already gone through so much, and he didn’t want to add to her burden.

He originally hadn’t even wanted her to meet Nightwing, it had been an emergency. One minute he’d been fighting Nakamura’s men, and the next he’d spotted Smokes weaving through the crates, being chased by a dozen angry men. She hadn’t given him a choice; he’d never fought off villains so quickly, and he’d rushed to save her as fast as he could. Which only complicated matters: at least, if she’d never met Nightwing, he technically wasn’t really lying to her. But now? Now, she believed that they were two entirely different people, and he had become the main character in an intricate lie bound to blow up in his face sooner or later.

Smokes was incredibly smart, more than she realized. He could read in her eyes that subconsciously, she had realized something was off. It was just a matter of how long it would take her to figure out the ruse.

Dick didn’t know whether to hope she would figure it out or not.

These were the thoughts plaguing him as he waited for her to come pick him up. It was a snowy December morning, and Dick had been forced to hunt for a hat and a scarf because of the cold. He’d been standing on his apartment complex’s steps for 5 minutes, hands freezing as he stared off into the distance and tried to figure out what to do with Smokes. The situation had become considerably more complicated, and he was desperate for a solution where she wouldn’t get hurt. Unfortunately, he was starting to suspect that said solution didn’t exist.

His reverie was interrupted by the familiar sight of Smokes’s little red fiat pulling up in front of him. He jogged down the steps and was surprised when she rolled down the window and stuck her head out towards him.

“Happy birthday, Dick!”

The jolliness in her voice momentarily startled him, stopping him in his tracks.

Smokes had been unusually merry these past few days. Normally, she was always so apathetic and sarcastic, but ever since their stunt, she’d seemed almost… happy. Dick could have sworn she had smiled that night. Well, it wasn’t quite a smile, but her lips had faintly twitched upwards. The sight had caught him so off-guard he’d stopped speaking mid-sentence, mesmerized by the shadow of the smile hovering on her face.

That’s when he’d realized he’d never seen her smile.

And that was also when he’d realized how desperate he was to see her smile. Just once.

The desire had struck him hard and swallowed him whole; he’d never longed for something as much as he longed for her smile. He would make even one suffice; he’d etch it forever onto his memory, storing the precious image in a safe corner of his mind.

He just needed to see it once.

Even now, she wasn’t quite smiling, but he could see the ghost of a grin on her face. He smiled warmly. “Thank you, Smokes.”

“Feel old yet?”

“What is it with everyone and me being old? I’m thirty, not eighty!” He huffed, hands on hips as she shook her head at him.

Truth be told, he hadn’t expected her to remember his birthday. He didn’t remember ever telling her it was December 1st, and ever since Wally… he didn’t really celebrate anymore. Sure, that didn’t stop his friends from sending over gifts. He’d woken up to multiple presents waiting for him on his doorstep: a fancy watch and card from Bruce, a homemade apple pie - his favorite - from Alfred, some sort of weird tech upgrade from Tim, a bouquet of black and blue flowers with a note from Zatanna, and even a book on accepting old age from Artemis - and he knew he would probably be receiving more gifts throughout the day. But Smokes? The woman didn’t look like she celebrated anything, ever, and he hadn’t expected her to greet her like this.

“You’re underestimating your old age. Your back is going to start hurting soon, and then-”

“Enough! I get it, I’m old!” He laughed, lowering his head towards her, their visible breaths mingling in the cold air.

“Glad you’ve accepted your fate, oldie. How embarrassing, for your age to start with the number three. I personally can’t relate, and-”

He flicked her nose, pouting as she yelped. “We get it, little Miss I’m still twenty-seven, young and wild. Will you let me in the car now, please? It’s freezing out here.”

“I suppose hypothermia probably wouldn’t help with your decaying bones- ok, ok, stop flicking my nose and get in already!”

He laughed as he opened the door and settled inside, quickly closing the window and rubbing his hands together. Gotham was unusually cold for a December 1st, and he was chilled to the bone. He glanced over at the young woman sitting beside him.

“Why are you not wearing a scarf or a hat? Are you insane? It’s freezing cold outside!”

She rolled her eyes as she started up the car, driving away. “It is not that cold.”

“I was literally two seconds away from turning into a human snowman before you arrived.”

“You are such a drama queen.” Her eyes dropped to the glove compartment for a split second, but it was so fast Dick thought he must have imagined it.

“And you don’t take care of yourself! We need to question the retirement home residents who witnessed last week’s bank robbery today, and we’re going to be walking up and down the entire neighborhood. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” She blew a raspberry at him, and the gesture startled him yet again. It was so childish, so carefree, so unlike her. He liked this new side of her.

There had been a pretty serious bank robbery the previous week, and the police still hadn’t been able to apprehend any criminals or even form a list of suspects. The main issue was that this bank was located right in front of a retirement residential area, and so the only potential witnesses were… old people. The duty to interrogate them and find out more about the incident had thus fallen back onto the Bat Family, and Dick had offered to go ask around. He’d figured it would be a more relaxing job compared to all the life-threatening situations they’d been in recently, and Smokes could certainly use the break from all the danger.

What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was the cold. Despite Smokes’ protests, it was frigid outside, with snow falling stubbornly every hour. It was going to be a long, cold day, the type of day where you no longer felt your fingers when you returned home, and she was not equipped for it.

When they reached the retirement home, she parked the car in front of the first house, and the two got out and proceeded to knock on the door. Their first residents were a lovely couple named Gerald and Hilda who had lots of tea and cookies to offer, but no interesting information regarding the robbery. They did, however, wish Dick a happy birthday after Smokes casually mentioned that he was turning thirty today. The second house was inhabited by a cranky old man, Chris, who talked their ear off about the price of gas and electricity for nearly half an hour before they were able to find an excuse to leave (and when Smokes told him it was Dick’s birthday, his only answer was enjoy your youth while it lasts). House after house, Dick and Smokes knocked on doors and talked to the residents, but the answer was always the same: nobody had seen or heard anything.

Most people didn’t invite them into their houses, which meant that they spent most of their time outside, and Dick could tell Smokes was freezing to death. Her hands were tucked deep in her pockets, cheeks red and nose runny from the cold, lashes covered in snow. She’d even started sneezing after they’d visited their fifteenth house, and she was visibly shifting her weight from one leg to another to avoid staying still and freezing.

Still, despite her teeth ostensibly chattering, she made sure to mention it was Dick’s birthday at every house they visited. Most people smiled amusingly, wishing him a happy birthday, and some even offered him some biscuits and homemade goodies - he was now carrying a bag full of sweets to eat when he returned home. This was, once again, odd and out of character for her. Was she making fun of him? Or was she just genuinely happy that it was his birthday? He, of course, thanked the people profusely, trying not to show his agitation and slight discomfort.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his birthday; it was hard not to when he was always showered with so much love from his friends and family. It was just… it was hard, without Wally. Even after ten years.

By the twentieth house, Smokes was so clearly numb from the cold that Dick had no choice but to stop. He turned to face her, hands on hips, a stern yet tender look painted on his face.

“Ok, just admit it. You’re freezing to death.”

“I am not.” She narrowed her eyes at him, pouting slightly, lips trembling (from the cold, it goes without saying).

“Smokes, it’s brass monkey weather outside, and your coat is doing nothing to cover you up.”

“My coat is doing just fine, thank you very much.” She turned her head away indignantly as he sighed. Christ was she stubborn. “I’ve been keeping up just fine.”

Dick shook his head. Well. He’d tried doing this the nice way.

He took a few steps closer to her, taking off his scarf as she opened her mouth to protest. Before she could make any sound, he started wrapping it around her neck, her mouth agape and eyes widening in… he couldn’t tell. Her breath was heavy as he fastened the fabric around her neck, her head bowed and eyes focused on his hands while he secured it and tugged it into her coat.

He let his fingers linger on the scarf for a few beats, a comfortable silence filling the air, before returning his hands in his pockets.

When she raised her brown eyes, his blue were already waiting for her, glinting with mirth.

“I wasn’t cold.” She muttered with a pout.

He nodded in response, lips twitching upwards. “I know you weren’t. I’m just doing this out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Oh, please. Everybody knows kindness becomes impossible once you hit thirty- ow! Ok, ok, I’m sorry! No need to hit me.”

Dick shook his head, laughing, as he turned around and started walking away.

“Hey! Wait for me! Don’t leave me behind!” Her panicked voice called from behind him, the sound of her footsteps hurrying in the snow making him laugh even harder.

They spent the rest of the day visiting the remaining houses, but came up short every single time: the robbers had disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace or evidence.

The last resident they questioned, while the sun was setting over the city, was a lovely old lady named Maggie, who - obviously - hadn’t seen or heard anything, but who quickly offered Dick a box of homemade apple biscuits.

“Young man, how are you celebrating your birthday then?” Maggie asked, voice jolly as she carefully placed her box in a paper bag.

He blinked in confusion, her question catching him off-guard. “Pardon?”

“Well, it’s your thirtieth birthday! Are you going out with friends? Family? Any big plans for tonight?” She wiggled her eyebrows, glancing back and forth between him and Smokes. “I remember when my husband turned thirty, we went all out. It was a massive party, with all our friends, and… to be honest, I don’t remember most of it. Alcohol, y’know? Still, it was epic.”

Dick felt a huge lump in his throat as he continued blinking at the old lady, willing his eyes not to water. Fuck.

He used to celebrate all of his birthdays with Wally. All of them, with no exception. And after his death… he’d never found the courage to organize anything ever again.

His ears were ringing and he couldn’t feel his hands as he replied. “Oh, no, I’m afraid it’ll be just me and my couch tonight.”

He couldn’t hear his voice, but it must have sounded off because Smokes instantly whipped her head and frowned, eyebrows furrowed in worry as she scrutinized his face. He could barely feel his body as they bid Maggie goodbye and headed back down the street.

“Everything ok?” Smokes eventually ventured after a few minutes of silence. He could feel her gaze on his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet it.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Let’s just go home.”

She hummed in response, but he could tell she was not convinced in the slightest. They reached the car in silence, sliding in and driving off without a word. Smokes kept glancing at Dick and the glove compartment, but his brain was too busy freaking out over what Maggie had said to focus on that mystery.

They’d been driving for barely 10 minutes before Smokes spoke up again. “Ok. Dick. Seriously. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head absentmindedly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re lying, and we both know it. Just tell me. Was it the ugly mole on Maggie’s cheek?”

The question made him laugh. “No, Smokes, it wasn’t the ugly mole on Maggie’s cheek.”

“Right. I figured you weren’t freaking out over a mole.” She nodded, turning left. “You looked like you were having an out-of-body experience back there. What happened?”

“I…” Dick sighed. He didn’t want to discuss this, not right now. He’d been having a pretty decent birthday until then, all things considered, and he didn’t want to ruin it by spiraling into a Wally’s dead and it’s my fault pit again. “It’s nothing, really. I promise. I’m probably just tired.”

The car halted at a red light. Smokes turned her head to face him, biting her lip. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly debating what to say, and eventually landed on: “Is this about Wally?”

He whipped his head in surprise, eyes wide as he stared at her. Her gaze was filled with concern and understanding, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. She looked nervous but resolute to have this discussion with him.

“I… how did you…” He could only mumble in astonishment.

“Your face went white when Maggie started asking about your plans to celebrate with friends, and after what you told me last time… I took an educated guess.”

Her voice was firm but gentle, kindness radiating from every bone in her body. It almost made him cry. What had he done to deserve this kind, caring woman? “I… yeah, I suppose it’s about Wally. We used to celebrate together, and… well, I haven’t really celebrated since he passed.”

The light turned green, and Smokes had to peel her eyes away from his figure, but he could tell she was solely focused on the discussion they were having. She glanced at the glove compartment yet again, and Dick started wondering if she was hiding some sort of nuclear weapon in there.

“I’m sorry about Wally, Dick.” She breathed after a few beats, turning right onto a familiar street. They were close to his house. “It’s ok to mourn and miss him, but it shouldn’t stop you from living your life.”

He sighed, resting his head on the seat behind him and closing his eyes. “I know. I know. It’s just hard sometimes, not to think about all the things he’s missing out on.”

“Yeah, but, think about all the things he did get to experience with you. Those experiences are precious, and your new experiences won’t tarnish or invalidate them. You deserve to live your life and be free, Dick. I’m sure Wally wouldn’t want you to stop living just because he’s gone.”

She was right. Of course she was, it was Smokes after all, when wasn’t she right? Wally’s memories would always stick with him, no matter what happened. He knew he wouldn’t ever forget him, even if he went out and experienced new things without him.

He turned his head at her, eyes half open as he smiled. “Did you ever consider switching career paths from quantum physicist to motivational speaker? I think you’d be a great hit on Ted Talk.”

Smokes snorted, turning onto Dick’s street. “Well, I switched to glorified chauffeur instead, so anything’s possible at this point.”

“You did have a brief stint as a glorified secretary.”

“That I did. I suppose I’ll have to add it to my long list of terrible jobs.” It was his turn to laugh heartily as she parked the car in front of his apartment complex, keeping the ignition on so that the car’s radiator wouldn’t turn off. She shifted in her seat to face him properly, his scarf still tucked soundly in her coat, brown eyes searching his face for confirmation that he was ok.

“Thank you, Smokes.” He hoped his voice conveyed all of the gratitude he was feeling.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you did. You practically threatened the residents into wishing me a happy birthday today.”

She narrowed her eyes at him in amusement. “I did not threaten-”

“Just, stop protesting for one minute, and accept my thank you, ok? Today was a great day.”

“Even with what Maggie said?”

“Even with what Maggie said.”

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears, gaze darting between him and the glove compartment. This was the hundredth time she looked at it, what was she hiding? He furrowed his eyebrows at her.

“What’s in the glove compartment?”

“What?” Her voice came out strangled, nervous, confirming his suspicion that she was hiding something in there.

“You keep looking at it.”

“No, I do not.”

“Yeah, you do. You’ve been glancing at it all day long.”

“I have not.”

“Yes, you have. What’s in it?”

“Nothing! There’s nothing in there.”

Her cheeks were flushed, eyes filled with panic as she watched his every move, visibly avoiding looking at the glove compartment. They stayed in this deadlock for multiple beats, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the car, as they waited for the other to make their move.

When Dick’s hands swiftly reached for the glove compartment, Smokes practically squeaked. “No! Don’t open it!”

His fingers brushed against the opening mechanism, but he didn’t press on it. Her eyes were filled with alarm, and her hands were reaching out to stop him. Whatever was in there, she didn’t want him to see it.

He sighed, removing his fingers from the compartment, and shook his head. “Ok, ok. I give up. Keep your secrets.”

Something was odd about this whole thing. Dick had never seen Smokes look so torn before; there was a storm brewing behind her eyes, her fists clenching and unclenching as she seemed to ponder some great philosophical question. Whatever she was hiding in the glove compartment must have meant a lot to her.

After a few moments of silence, she eventually exhaled sharply, rubbing her neck sheepishly. “Right. Better this way.”

He nodded, though he had no clue what had just happened, and placed his hand on the car’s door. “I should probably head home. You must be dying to go back too.”

“Right. Yes. Home. Huh… Happy birthday, Dick.”

He smiled softly, opening the door. “Thank you, Smokes. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Her response was muffled as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

The frigid air hit him right in the face, accentuated by the nightfall. Tonight would be the coldest night of the year, at least according to the local news channel, and he was suddenly thankful he would be able to spend it in the warmth of his apartment.

He climbed the doorsteps to his building, fumbling in his pockets for his keys. He was in the midst of padding his back-left pocket when he heard footsteps rushing behind him.

“Dick!”

He spun instantly at the sound of Smokes’ voice calling him, abandoning his useless search for his keys. She was running up the steps to catch up with him, panting and holding a small brown paper bag in her hands. The bag was adorned with a blue ribbon, and he could only blink at the sight.

She stopped two steps in front of him, their breaths mingling in the cold night air, and held out the bag in the small space separating their bodies. Her cheeks were flushed red, and she looked flustered, yet her eyes had their usual determined glint, the one he’d come to love so much over these past few months.

“I didn’t… I just saw this at the market the other day and instantly thought of you, and so I bought it before I could really think it through and-” She started mumbling, waving the brown bag back and forth as her hands gestured wildly. “Well, I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate because you’re my boss, and I’m technically your secretary- or chauffeur? I don’t know, I don’t even have a title, but so- I didn’t know if I should give it to you, but I- well, I don’t actually have any use for this and- it’s just a tiny thing, nothing big, but it made me laugh and think of you, and so I thought-”

“Wow, Smokes, calm down. Deep breaths.” He placed his hands on her arms, rubbing up and down, an amused smile gracing his lips. This was probably the longest sentence he’d ever heard her make - was it even a sentence? It was mostly words jumbled together. He’d never seen her so nervous before, and to be frank, he hadn’t thought it possible for the young woman to lose her cool.

Smokes nodded, exhaling sharply, before holding out the paper bag once again. “This is for you. It’s just… it’s nothing, really. But it made me think of you, so…” She bit her lip, cheeks crimson as she looked away. “Happy birthday, Dick.”

Dick blinked at her as the realization hit him. She’d gotten him a gift. A gift for his birthday. She was giving him a gift.

He peeled his trembling hands away from her arms and gently accepted the paper bag she was handing him, breath stuck in his throat as he inspected the package. It was small but dandy, and the blue, glitter ribbon was awfully similar to his Nightwing suit’s color.

His hands were still shaking as he started opening the bag, reaching inside to grab the gift. It was soft and fluffy, causing him to snort and furrow his eyebrows as he tried to guess what it could be.

Smokes was watching his every move, as if in a trance, and she was equally breathless. “You’ll never guess, believe me. Just open it.”

Their eyes locked for a split second before Dick took the item out of the bag. He blinked in confusion, dropping the paper bag on the snow-covered pavement as he turned the gift over in his hand.

There were a few moments of silence during which he could only stare at the gift dumbfounded while the woman waited anxiously for his reaction.

Then it hit him. All at once, like a wave crashing against the shore. Dick started laughing, the loudest, merriest laughter he’d ever had, so proud and happy he was certain all of Gotham could hear him.

He held out the pair of socks in front of his face, eyes crinkling in hilarity as he continued to guffaw, tears welling in his eyes at the absurdity of the gift.

For, it wasn’t just any pair of socks. No, no, these were penis socks: white socks with dicks of all shapes and sizes drawn on them. Penis socks. Penis socks for Dick. These were somehow the most horrendous and most precious pair of socks he now owned.

Smokes let out a sigh of relief, her breath visible in the cold air, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “I hope you like them. The tag literally said Penis Socks and I instantly thought of you.”

“I love them.” He managed to say, calming himself down and wiping his tears away. “Though I don’t know if I should be concerned that the sight of penises reminds you of me.”

“Well, there were dildo-themed ones too, but I figured I could get you those on another occasion.”

“They’re perfect, truly. I adore them. They’re so ugly yet so beautiful. I have no words to describe them.” He laughed again, unable to stop himself, before looking over at the young woman. She was looking up at him with bright brown eyes, sparkling in a way he’d never seen them sparkle before, and her lips… they were so close. So close to him. So close to smiling. “I love them. Thank you, Smokes.”

His words were earnest, genuine, his voice tender as his blue eyes scanned her face. Every time he thought she was done surprising him, and every time, she proved him wrong. She was a mystery, the most sarcastic and stoic yet hilarious and kind person he knew, and he wanted nothing more than to solve it. Solve her. Know her, for who she was. He would take any part of her she was willing to share with him.

It happened then and there.

Just as Dick was realizing just how obsessed he was with her, her lips twitched upwards. It was small at first, barely there; but then it grew impossibly wide, and her eyes crinkled as she smiled a toothy, playful grin. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was practically beaming at him.

Smokes was smiling.

Smokes was smiling for him.

Smokes was smiling, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyelashes fluttering as he basked in the image of the young woman simply grinning. The sight was simply mesmerizing, and for the first time in a long time, Dick was at a loss for words. He physically couldn’t say anything, scared that one wrong word would cause her to stop smiling.

He’d been a fool to think once would be enough. Once would never be enough. He wanted to see her smile and laugh every day, all day. He wanted her to be happy, and not just in his memories.

He wanted her to live.

“I’m glad you like them.” She murmured, rosy-cheeked and smiling. Smiling. God, he would never get over it. She let out a small laugh - a small laugh? The sound was divine. He was fairly certain he was about to faint - raising an eyebrow at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The question shook him out of his rapture. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, like I just did something revolutionary or something.”

“Ah. That.” He turned red, sheepishly rubbing his neck. “No, it’s nothing, it’s just… you were smiling.”

She frowned, and his chest physically hurt, his heart squeezing in agony. No. No. Smile again. Don’t stop. “That’s not revolutionary.”

“I know. I just… I’d never seen you smile before.”

Her frown relaxed, and she started thinking. “That’s not possible, surely you’ve seen me smile.”

“Believe me, I would remember if I had.”

Smokes simply stared at him, opening her mouth to reply and then promptly closing it again when words failed her. Her eyes were staring right into his, searching for something, though he wasn’t quite sure what. The two of them stood there, immobile, staring at each other like they were the only two people in the world for a few minutes. She was so close her breath kept fanning his face, and he could see her red nose and cheeks from up close.

Dick’s heart felt like it was going to erupt from his chest, pounding violently against his ribcage as he held onto the socks tightly.

“You should smile more often.”

She smiled, and his heart cartwheeled in his chest yet again.

“Maybe I will.”

From that day forward, Smokes smiled at him every morning and every evening; wide, genuine grins that made his heart flutter at the mere sight of them.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Dick created a new group.
Dick added Tim, Jason, Bart, Jaime, Artemis, Jason, Cass, Kaldur, Babs, Zatanna, Raquelle, M’gann, Conner, Garth, and Will.
Dick named the group “Birthday?”

Dick: Do you guys want to go out and celebrate my birthday tonight or is it too late?

Bart: Oldie! Isn’t it way past your bedtime?
Dick reacted with👎

Tim: I’ll bring the alcohol.

Jaime: I’ll bring the strippers.

Kaldur: Jaime, please, no.

Jason (meanie): I’d like to see the strippers.

Babs: For the love of god, people. No strippers.

Dick: I’m not against the strippers.

Artemis: This close to canceling your birthday, Dildo.

Will: Strippers aside, we’d be very happy to celebrate your birthday with you, Dick.

Bart: Ok, I get it, I’ll be a human taxi and bring everyone back to Gotham.

Conner: Time to PARTAY!!! #hotgirlwinter #nomeansno #myoutfitdoesntmeanyes

Raquelle: I think I just had a stroke.

M’gann: Yeah, we haven’t made progress on the hashtags…

Chapter Text

December 23rd, 2026, 9:26 AM

Attention passengers. Flight DL02 from Gotham City to Rome has experienced a minor delay due to unforeseen weather circumstances beyond our control. The new estimated time of departure is currently 2:45 PM.

Smokes groaned when she heard the announcement, rolling her neck and standing straight in her seat. This was the fourth time her flight had been delayed, and she was starting to lose her patience. Returning home for the holidays had never been this hard.

She’d originally bought her ticket for December 22nd, meaning she would have landed in Rome in the early morning of December 23rd. Heck, she’d even called her dad to come pick her up, and he’d been pleasantly surprised by her call. Ever since she’d left Oxford, she’d distanced herself from her family, unable to explain what had happened to them. She knew they were worried sick, but she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet. Maybe one day.

The plan had been perfect: she’d wished Dick and Tim happy holidays, buying them both terrible pairs of socks that made them laugh - the dildo-themed one for Dick, and underwear-themed ones for Tim for All the times you let your underwear airdry at the Nest -, had called Alfred too, and had even gotten Dick to drive her to the airport. Everything had gone smoothly.

And then the snowstorm had hit. A huge, terrible snowstorm that had started north and ended up sweeping all over the Atlantic Ocean. All flights to Europe had been delayed, over and over, and with Christmas so close, people were starting to get antsy.

The first delay had been from 2:45 PM to 5:50 PM. Fine. Not ideal, but she’d still land in Rome fairly early in the morning. Not even two hours later, they’d announced another delay, this time to 9:30 PM. Ok. Alright. She’d lost most of her morning, but she’d be there at least. The third delay, to 10:35 AM the following morning had nearly caused a riot, passengers complaining about plans and refunds and having nowhere to spend the night. Luckily, the airline had provided everyone with hotel accommodations for the night (Smokes didn’t dare imagine how much that must have cost them) but people were still noticeably irritated.

And now? Now it would be 2:45 PM. Again. Hopefully, she’d land early on the morning of the 24th and at least spend that with her family. Her return flight was scheduled for the fifth of January anyway, she had more than enough time to spend with them.

She sighed, looking at her phone. Her screen displayed all the texts she’d received from her family, particularly from her mother, asking to notify them before the plane took off. Smokes was starting to think it was more of a question of if it ever took off. But even though the irritation should have seeped into her bones by now, she wasn’t angry or moody in the slightest.

No. Life had been good recently. Better than she could have dreamt it to be again. She was doing a job she liked, she was helping people, and most importantly… she was smiling.

There was a part of her that had gone numb after what had happened in Oxford. A part of her that had been empty for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be fulfilled and happy and passionate about things; she’d forgotten what it felt like to be alive, and to be happy to be alive; she’d forgotten to look for light at the end of the tunnel. And for nearly two years, she’d accepted that she would probably never feel the same way about life again.

But ever since she’d smiled at Dick, ever since she’d given him his gift and seen the way his whole face had just lit up and he’d practically beamed at her, it was like a well had broken inside her. All of those joyful, merry emotions that had been bottled up and buried had suddenly resurfaced, and she couldn’t help but smile every time she saw Dick. Which was every day, so now she was smiling and laughing every day. And it was all thanks to Dick.

Not that she would ever admit that out loud. Dick was her boss, and she wasn’t sure bosses were supposed to take care of their employees - or glorified chauffeurs - the way he took care of her. But, the simple truth was that it was impossible not to be hopeful about the future around Dick. The man had probably seen it all during his investigations; he’d seen the worst of humanity, and yet he still believed in the beauty and kindness of people. He had this sort of blind optimism, that perhaps wasn’t blind at all. And it was so, so hard not to be optimistic when she saw all the people Dick was helping, one small action at a time.

The sound of her phone ringing in her lap jolted her out of her reverie. She glanced down and smiled when she read Dick’s name on the display. Thinking of the devil.

“Missing me already?” She replied as she brought the phone to her ear, smirking a little. She fancied Dick would miss her a little (just a tiny bit) during her two weeks off.

A warm, familiar laugh came from the other side of the line. “Terribly. Now that you’re gone, Tim has gone back to airdrying all his underwear. He’s also started nervous cleaning. Cassie is arriving tomorrow and he wants everything to be squeaky clean. Something about being husband material.”

Cassie was Tim’s girlfriend. Smokes hadn’t met her yet, but Tim had shown her countless pictures. Apparently, they were talking about getting married - they’d been dating for ten years after all - but whenever she asked what was stopping them from getting engaged, he grew quiet. She still hadn’t figured that mystery out.

“Yes, I’m sorry for you but I am forever thankful I don’t have to see Tim’s underwear. The black pair with the hearts, in particular, has traumatized me for life.”

Dick chuckled. “Yeah, an anniversary gift apparently.”

“See, I’m not sure if that detail makes it better or worse.”

“Worse. Definitely worse.” She heard the sounds of rustling papers and the squeaking of the desk chair - even on the 23rd of December, he was still hard at work. That man was a force of nature. “How’s it going in Rome? It should be about 3 o’clock over there, no?”

Smokes sighed, throwing her head back with a groan and glancing at the departure screen. It was nearly entirely red, the words DELAYED written over and over again. “I wouldn’t know, seeing I’m still in Gotham.”

“What?” Dick exclaimed, voice slightly panicked. “What do you mean you’re still in Gotham? Your plane was supposed to leave yesterday afternoon!”

“Haven’t you been watching the news? A snowstorm is throttling over the Atlantic. All flights to Europe have been delayed for the time being. I’m on my fourth delay.”

“Shit. I was working late last night and didn’t turn on the news.” He did sound exhausted. But then again, she’d noticed he was always exhausted; she was starting to suspect he continued to work even after she dropped him home in the evening. He always looked like he was running on barely a few hours of sleep, and consumed an ungodly amount of coffee. “Wait a second, where did you spend the night? Please tell me you didn’t just sleep at the airport because Smokes I swear to god-”

“Calm down, Dick. I didn’t sleep at the airport. The airline paid for everybody’s hotel rooms, so I got to sleep in a king-sized bed.”

“Ah. Well, that’s better than the airport floor. But still, why didn’t you call me?”

She blinked in confusion. “Why would I have called you?”

There was a small silence, and she heard him hesitate on the other side of the line. “You should’ve kept me updated. I could’ve come pick you up.”

“That’s really nice of you, Dick, but there was no need, I promise. The airline paid for everything and I was fine.”

“Right. Ok.” He hummed, but he didn’t sound convinced. Dick had been a tad off lately, but she’d mostly attributed it to his visible exhaustion (she’d even forced him to take an afternoon off to sleep one day because he was minutes from collapsing on his desk - it had taken her a whole hour of arguing before he’d finally agreed). “When’s your flight supposed to leave now?”

“2:45 this afternoon. They just announced the delay.”

“Ah. You’ll land the morning of the 24th then.”

“Yeah. I’m hoping the storm will subside and that there won’t be any more delays. The people here are pissed, it’s gonna be a riot soon.”

He let out a low whistle. “Oh yeah, flights delayed this close to Christmas Eve is not a good way to sympathize with the people.”

“There was a lady named Susan who was very, very close to hitting the flight attendant yesterday evening.”

He chuckled. “I can only imagine. But seriously, I hope the plane will take off this time. I know how excited you were to return home.”

She bit her lip, rubbing her eyes groggily. Dick was right, as always. For the first time since she’d moved to Gotham, she was actually excited to fly back home. She felt so much lighter, as if an invisible weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she longed to hug her family and laugh with her parents and brother again (not to mention the endless sea of aunts and uncles and cousins who were bound to show up).

“Yeah. Hopefully, it’ll take off.”

“Call me before you take off. Or… well, I don’t want to jinx it, but if there are more delays, call me. Seriously. I’ll see what I can do.”

Smokes snorted. “I’m afraid even all of Bruce Wayne’s money is powerless in the face of a snowstorm.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I’d like to be. Ok. I’ll let you get back to work. Don’t work too hard though, and please, Dick, don’t work on Christmas day. Seriously. Take days off. Gotham won’t collapse without you.”

“It might.” He muttered under his breath, making her laugh again.

“No, it won’t. Let your buddy Nightwing or Batman take care of the city once.”

“Ah, so I deserve holidays but they don’t?”

“Well, Nightwing is a snitch so he’s currently on my people I don’t like list.”

“I’ll make sure to let him know.” She could practically see him smirking, the teasing tone of his voice said it all.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, though amusement coated her features. “Of course you will. Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon, Smokes.”

She hung up with a smile dancing on her lips, staring at the phone screen in her hands. One conversation with Dick had been enough to wash away all her frustration from the delays. She was confident her plane would take off at 2:45 PM. The snowstorm would recede, and she’d be able to spend Christmas Eve with her family. All would be good.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The snowstorm did not recede, and everything was not good. At all. Far from it, actually.

(Also, Susan did in fact end up punching the flight attendant, and getting taken away in handcuffs by the police.)

Her plane was delayed another two times and was once again supposed to depart at 11:35 PM (though she was seriously starting to doubt it would ever take off at all). She’d been at the airport for over 24 hours and she was starting to slowly lose her mind - and she wasn’t the only one. Apart from Susan, many other passengers had started complaining and their gate was very close to becoming a crime scene.

Throughout it all, she texted her family to let them know about the delays, and Dick, of course. The man texted her every time the departure time neared, and she inevitably responded every time that there had been another delay.

Dick: Everything ok? Plane taking off soon?
Smokes: Another delay :(
Dick: Fuck. I’m so sorry, Smokes.
Smokes: It’s fine. Susan’s sister, Dolly, was arrested too.
Dick: Sounds like a fun way to spend Christmas.

The seventh delay was the final straw. Smokes felt like bursting into tears when the airline announced a delay to the following morning at 10:30 AM. This meant she would only land in Rome early on the morning of the 25th. She wouldn’t get to spend Christmas Eve with her family, and on top of that, her dad would have to sacrifice part of his Christmas to come pick her up.

She suddenly understood why Susan and Dolly were so full of rage.

She sent her parents a text - it was 4:00 AM in Rome and they were definitely sleeping -, hoping the news wouldn’t sadden them too much when they woke up in the morning, and then sent Dick a Delay to tomorrow morning :( text.

This time, the man didn’t answer and called her directly.

“I’m coming to pick you up.” His voice boomed through the phone before she could open her mouth. She could hear him moving around, clothes ruffling and keys jangling.

She instantly protested as she walked through the airport, on the way to the hotel. “No, Dick, there’s no need to-”

“Smokes, you’ve been at the airport for a day and a half. You’re not spending another night there. I’ll take you home and back to the airport tomorrow morning.”

“Dick. The airline is paying for a hotel room again. I’m fine. You don’t need to come pick me up.” She finally managed to interject. The movement on the other side of the line stopped, Dick’s breath was now the only sound she could make out.

“Smokes. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but the snowstorm isn’t subsiding. If anything, it’s getting worse.” Fuck. Her eyes watered involuntarily at that, and she quickly shook her head. “I know how much you want to go home for Christmas, believe me, but… I just don’t think your plane is ever going to take off.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. The exhaustion was starting to catch up to her. “I know. Thanks for worrying. I know that with every delay the probability the plane takes off decreases, but… I do have hope that it’ll take off tomorrow morning.”

“Ok. Ok. I get it. Spend the night at the hotel. But if the plane doesn’t take off tomorrow morning, I’m coming to pick you up. You’re not spending Christmas Eve alone at the airport.”

“Oh yeah? And who would I spend Christmas Eve with? Surely you’re not going to have me crash Bruce Wayne’s Christmas Eve dinner.”

He laughed at her comment. “No, not this year. But we can talk about that when we get to it.”

“Hopefully we won’t.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” The sincere tone of his voice made her heart somersault. He cared for her in a way nobody had before, and it made her constantly question if she deserved all of his kindness and generosity.

She came to a halt in front of the hotel. The receptionist, a young woman in her thirties, instantly recognized her from the lobby and shot her a sympathetic smile. Hell, even the employees were pitying her. This was worse than rock bottom.

“Ok, Dick, I’ve arrived at the hotel. I’m going to go to sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Please call.”

“I will. Goodnight, Dick.”

“Goodnight, Smokes.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

December 24th, 2026, 10:01 AM

Attention passengers. Flight DL02 from Gotham City to Rome has experienced a minor delay due to unforeseen weather circumstances beyond our control. The new estimated time of departure is currently 5:45 PM.

Smokes was starting to think she was stuck in a Groundhog Day type of situation. 8 delays in two days, and she was still right where she’d started. Colleen, Susan and Dolly’s third sister, was also arrested and escorted away by the police when she found out about the delay and flung her 20-pound suitcase at the flight attendants.

This was the closest she’d gotten to actually boarding the plane. Only 30 minutes left before the hypothetical takeoff, and hell, she’d even started queuing!

When she called her parents to warn them for the eighth time, her mother sounded on the verge of tears - a sentiment she shared, for she also felt like she was about to burst into sobs then and there.

But, compared to her phone call with Dick, her mother’s reaction was nothing.

“That’s it, I’m coming to pick you up.”

“No, Dick, hold on a second, it will take off at 5:45 PM.”

“That’s what they said yesterday, and the day before that, and yet you’re still here.”

“I know that, Dick.” She huffed, growing irritated. She knew better than anyone how much time she’d spent in this ungodly airport. “Please, just… let me try to catch this one. If it takes off I’ll still be able to spend Christmas with my family.”

Dick breathed out sharply. “Ok. Fine. But if it gets delayed again, I’m coming to pick you up and that’s final.” His voice betrayed his disapproval, and she suspected he wasn’t objecting solely because he knew how much her family meant to her.

“Ok. Deal. If it gets delayed again you can come pick me up and show me what billionaires do on Christmas Eve apart from not giving money to the poor.”

He guffawed. “Yes. Precisely that.”

She hung up in better spirits; Dick always tended to have that effect on her. Despite the fact she was actively praying the plane would indeed take off, she couldn’t help but appreciate his generosity. The man was willing to drop all of his plans, on Christmas Eve of all days, just for her.

A quick glance at the departures screen showed no sign of red; surely, they’d manage to depart this time.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

December 24th, 2026, 6:01 PM

Attention passengers. Flight DL02 from Gotham City to Rome has been canceled due to unforeseen weather circumstances. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please head to our desk for further information regarding rebooking and financial compensation. We wish you all the happiest of holidays.

Smokes groaned, eyebrows pinched in irritation, and hands on hips. They’d been queuing to board the plane for over an hour, and though she’d known it wouldn’t take off at 5:45, she’d really believed they’d manage to take off with another minor delay.

And now? Who knew what flight they would find for her. She probably wouldn’t be able to spend Christmas with her family. Happiest holidays her ass.

She was practically fuming when she arrived at the desk, and she wasn’t the only one. Carla, Susan, Dolly, and Colleen’s fourth sister, had kneed a flight attendant in the balls and scratched his face, and the police were also taking her away. Prison Christmas sounded like much more fun than spending over 48 hours at the airport for nothing.

She notified her parents via text, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest, and called Dick.

“Hi.” She mumbled in the phone, voice defeated. She had stepped outside for fresh air and was leaning on a pillar, watching the snow fall in front of her. Damned snow.

“Hey. Bad news?”

“Yeah. They canceled the flight.”

“Shit, Smokes, I’m so sorry.” Genuine compassion laced his tone.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Did they get you on another flight?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow at lunchtime, apparently. Though, at this point, I’m starting to doubt that one will take off.”

“According to the news, a northern wind should sweep the storm away tonight. I’m sure it’ll take off. ” There was a small silence. She was too exhausted to say anything; despite doing her best to maintain her good mood, the past two days had drained her. “Do you want me to come pick you up?”

She snorted. “Oh, you’re giving me the option now? You’ve been hollering I’m coming to pick you up! like a caveman for the past 24 hours.”

“Ok, so maybe I came off a little strong.” His chuckles instantly brought a smile to her face. “I’m sorry, I was just worried about you. I know how much seeing your family meant to you, and I can tell you’re pretty dejected right now.”

“You can tell?”

“Well, aside from the fact that sadness would be anyone’s natural response to this situation, you sound like shit. No offense.”

“None taken. It’s alright. And yeah, if it’s not too much of a bother I would love for you to come pick me up.”

“Of course. I’m already in the car.” She shook her head. Of course, he was. “And you’re no bother at all, Smokes. Seriously. I know you would have preferred to spend Christmas Eve with your family, but I’m happy we get to spend it together.”

Her body relaxed at his words, the grin on her lips widening. “Thank you, Dick.”

“It’s nothing. Alright, according to my GPS, I should be there in about… 40 minutes.”

“Alright. I’ll wait for you by Gate A, right where you left me the other day.”

“Sounds good. See you soon, Smokes.”

“See you soon.”

True to his words, Dick pulled up in front of her exactly 40 minutes after their call had ended. He jogged to her an umbrella in hand, immediately reaching for her suitcase and dragging her under the umbrella when he reached her.

“Hi, soldier. How was Vietnam?” He teased, and she promptly elbowed him in the ribs, making him laugh.

“That was the longest 48 hours of my life, but I don’t think it compares to the Vietnam War.” Dick tooted a whistle in response.

“Well, at the very least, it makes you an airport veteran now. Don’t know if I would’ve had the patience you had.”

“Some didn’t.” She practically beamed when she remembered what she’d forgotten to tell him, hopping excitedly as he opened the trunk of his car to put away her suitcase. “Remember Susan, Dolly, and Colleen? Their sister Carla was arrested too! She kneed a flight attendant in the balls and scratched his face like a wild cat. It took like 5 police offers to get her off of him.”

“What? There’s another one? Jesus Christ, how many of them are there?”

“I think there were two more. They were plotting a way to get arrested to reunite with their sisters in prison when I left.”

The laugh that left Dick’s mouth was loud and contagious, and soon they were both folded in half and laughing like lunatics in the snow, only shielded by the car trunk that was still open and Dick’s flimsy umbrella.

It took them about ten minutes to calm down

“Right. Ok.” He tried to say as he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, smile so wide it was blinding. “Something is wrong with that family.”

“Oh, for sure. But it’s entertaining.”

“That, it is.”

After a few more minutes of laughing and messing around in the snow, they managed to get into the car - Dick opening and closing her door to make sure the umbrella still covered her - and drove off.

30 minutes into the drive, a realization hit her: she had no clue where they were going.

“So, huh, just out of curiosity, where are we going?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re driving to Artemis’ place. My friends and I organized a small Christmas Eve party this year, and Artemis and her husband are hosting. Jason loves hosting parties, he’s got a real knack for it.”

“Oh. Oh. Your friends from summer camp?”

“Yeah, all of them should be there, along with a few others.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, recalling the photograph he'd shown her a while back. There had been at least half a dozen teenagers on it. “Hold on, how many people are we talking here?”

“Huh… do you count the children or not?” Oh, Christ. This did not bode well.

“Yes. Definitely count the children.”

“Right.” He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, muttering names and numbers under his breath. “Well, then… 15? 16? I’m not sure.”

“Sixteen?” She sputtered incredulously, shifting in her seat to face him. “Are you insane?”

“What? What’s the matter with sixteen?”

“You’re meaning to tell me you’re taking me to meet sixteen total strangers on Christmas Eve?”

“They’re not total strangers. You know Artemis and Tim. Oh, and Cass will be there too, you can finally meet her.”

“That’s two people, Dick!”

“You also know me.”

“Did you count yourself in the initial sixteen people?”

His face dropped at that. “I… no.”

“Oh god. I’m going to be crashing a Christmas Eve party.” She buried her face in her hands, sighing while Dick laughed at her. “I can’t believe this is what my life has come to. Hey, don’t laugh at me! This is a serious situation.”

“You’re overthinking this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m going to have to meet sixteen new people in one go. On Christmas Eve. It’s a huge deal.”

“Meeting new people isn’t that bad.”

“I hate people.”

“You don’t hate me, though.”

“Right now I do.” He burst out laughing again. Smokes huffed, crossing her arms and slumping into her seat. This was going to be a long night.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine. They’ll love you.” Even though his tone was soft and reassuring, she was having a hard time believe him.

Maybe she should have just punched a police officer and celebrated Christmas Eve with Susan and her sisters.

(“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Not at all.”)

Chapter Text

“This is a terrible idea.” Smokes huffed for the hundredth time since she’d found out where Dick was taking her.

They were now both standing in front of Artemis and Jason’s front door: a perky, red door decorated with Christmas lights and a small plaque that read “Welcome Chez Les Bards”. She would have never imagined the blonde to be much into decorations and such bright things, but something told her it was her husband’s doing.

Smokes bit her lip anxiously, rubbing her arms from the cold and eyeing the building unconvincingly. It was a cozy, red brick building, that truly shouldn’t have scared her that much. But she was secretly terrified of it; and of this party, and of meeting all these people that Dick cared about and whom cared about him in return and whom she hoped would like her too and-

Reassuring and familiar hands landed on her shoulders. “You’re overthinking this, Smokes, you have no reason to be scared.”

Ah. Maybe her fear wasn’t much of a secret.

“I’m not. I’m being entirely rational about this. You’ve all known each other for decades at this point, and I’m just going be rudely barging in and-”

Dick’s warm body inched closer to her, and she could feel the heat he was emanating from behind her; he poked his head over her shoulder, hands not moving from their spot, and gave her a toothy grin. “Relax.” He drawled, breath fanning her face. His lips were so, so close, and she wasn’t entirely sure why her legs had turned to jelly as she stared into eyes full of mirth. “Seriously. They won’t mind. They’re a bit of an eccentric bunch, but they’re the kindest, most selfless people I know. They’ll welcome you with open arms. So just take a deep breath and try to enjoy yourself, ok?”

His gaze was so genuine, so hopeful, that it was hard not to believe him.

“Ok. I can try. No promises, though.”

His smile grew wider. “That’s all I needed. Brace yourself, then.”

Smokes opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but didn’t have time to speak as Dick’s body shifted beside her, his arm stretching outwards to press the doorbell. A peculiar jingle went off, some sort of Last Christmas bell remix, which made him snort for some reason. Laughter erupted in the house, although someone audibly groaned, and shifting footsteps approached the door.

“Jason, I swear to god, next year, I will not let you modify our doorbell. And Easter is off the table! I’m not going to have some weird Easter Bunny remix greeting all our guests.” Artemis’ voice boomed, followed by a man’s deep laugh.

“You love the festive doorbell jingles.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Dick whispered in Smokes’ ear, brushing his lips against her ear, a smirk painting his lips.

“No, I don’t-” Echoed Artemis as the door swung open, and Smokes had to hold in her snort. “Dick! Maverick! You’re finally here! We were starting to think you’d been kidnapped or something.”

“Always fashionably late, Art.” Dick smiled, hugging the blonde warmly. Next to her stood a tall, brown-haired bulky man, wearing a prosthetic leg and… the ugliest Christmas sweater Smokes had ever seen.

The wool sweater was a blinding green color, with a huge Christmas tree stitched on it, small red and green bells hanging from each branch, making a terrible sound every time the man simply breathed.

The man beamed at her, twisting his body to make the bells jingle. “Don’t you think this is just the neatest sweater?”

Artemis sighed, shaking her head, but didn’t protest when what Smokes now assumed to be her husband pulled her in his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead. A small smile tugged at the blonde’s lips, but she feigned a pout instead.

“It’s… unique.” Smokes eventually settled on, causing Dick to snort beside her. She quickly smacked his arm, which only made him laugh harder.

“Don’t worry about it, Maverick, Jason knows his sweaters are the ugliest piece of clothing made by man.” Artemis chimed in.

“Truly a fashion crime.” Dick nodded solemnly.

These comments did not wipe the grin from Jason’s face, though. Instead, he extended his hand out to Smokes. “I’m Jason, Artemis’ husband. She’s told me all about you. Please remind me never to get into a car when you’re driving.”

She laughed heartily. “Noted.”

Smokes practically squeaked when Artemis pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry about your flight. I know we weren’t your plan A, but I do hope we’ll be a satisfactory plan B.”

She pulled back to look at her and gave the blonde her most sincere, heartfelt smile. “You are more than satisfactory. Thank you so much for having me. I’m really sorry I’m crashing your party uninvited.”

“Are you kidding?” Artemis pointed at Jason with a smug look. “This guy loooves to host holiday parties. Seriously. The more guests the merrier. He wanted to buy a Santa costume and we compromised with the ugly sweater.”

“It’s not my fault party pooper over here hates anything remotely festive.” Jason’s hand reached for his wife’s, easily intertwining their fingers together in a way that made Smokes’ heart squeeze. “We’re more than happy to have you, seriously. I’m only sorry we didn’t invite you earlier. Those socks you got for Dick were hilarious, I would have loved to see what you would have come up with for the rest of us.”

Smokes blinked at the statement, and glanced sideways at Dick. The man was growing flustered, sheepishly rubbing his neck. “The… the penis socks?”

Artemis snorted. “The idiot showed them off at his birthday party the other week. We went for last-minute drinks and he showed them to the whole bar. You have my stamp of approval, by the way.”

Her heart flipped in her chest at that, and she turned to get a better look at Dick. He was staring straight back, his lips slightly twitching upwards. She wasn’t sure why the mere sight of him smiling affected her so much; or maybe it was the fact that he’d worn her gift almost as soon as he’d received it, and had shown it off to all his friends. The idea of him appreciating something she’d specifically picked out for him, no matter how small or insignificant… it did something to her. Something was fluttering in her stomach, and she had to will every muscle in her body to stop and act normal.

“What? I told you, I was a fan of the socks.” He mumbled, looking away.

Jason intervened with a laugh. “He told us, pleeeeenty of times.”

“Too many times,” Artemis muttered, her husband batting her arm playfully. He then turned to both of them.

“Come on in, you must be freezing, and the others are probably waiting for us.”

“Yes, and we’re TIRED of waiting, so hurry the FUCK UP!” A loud voice boomed from somewhere in the house, followed by a chorus of guffaws and howls.

Jason, Artemis, and Dick all shared knowing glances, smiles spreading on their faces, and the couple moved to the side to allow the latter and Smokes to walk into the house. She wasn’t surprised to find every possible surface decorated with increasingly improbable Christmas ornaments, including a gigantic inflatable snowman that seemed to creepingly stare into the soul of anybody who met his gaze.

Once they’d removed their shoes, the husband and wife led them to a spacious living room, where various people were chatting and laughing on the green couches. All gazes flew up to them as they stopped in the entryway, eyes scanning her curiously - and somewhat amusingly? She couldn’t quite decipher the emotions of all these strangers.

Smokes felt herself tense up, the weight of all the stares crushing her, and she felt the pang of doubt and worry resurge in her chest. Shit. This had been a terrible idea. She was crashing a party and-

Dick’s warm hand on her lower back startled her, and she blinked sideways at him as he started speaking, a confident, lazy smile painting his lips. “Merry Christmas, guys. This is Smokes, the snowstorm refused to let her leave the country so she’s stuck with us now.” He circled his hand soothingly, her tense muscles almost instantly melting under his touch. She could barely breathe, transfixed by the circular, reassuring motions.

A chorus of “Hi, Maverick” and “Hi, Smokes” resonated around the room, and she was surprised to realize everybody knew exactly who she was. She wasn’t sure whether she should be horrified or honored that Dick had shared her position as “glorified chauffeur” with them.

She was about to open her mouth to apologize for crashing the party one more time when suddenly, a pair of small feet came throttling at them. Two identical small boys, no older than four years old, with wild red hair and sparkling blue eyes, practically crashed into Dick, giggling as the man picked them up in his arms and started shaking them left and right.

“Uncle Dick!” One of the boys exclaimed affectionately as he threw his tiny arms around his neck.

“We missed you! Mommy and Daddy said you were late because you had to pick a girl, and we were very mad at you.” The other pouted, turning his head away indignantly.

“Oh, Matt. You know I would never forget about you. This is my friend Maverick. She was supposed to spend Christmas with her family, but the mean snowstorm wouldn’t let her plane take off, and I couldn’t just let her celebrate Christmas alone, now, could I?”

The boy who wasn’t angry at him peeled himself away and started staring at her with curious eyes. He reached out his hands at her, seemingly wanting to caress her cheeks. “You’re really pretty.”

Smokes turned bright red as laughter echoed through the room. “Oh… thank you.” She mumbled, unsure. She’d never been good with kids, had never known what to say or not say to them.

The other boy, the one named Matt, didn’t look so convinced, and his eyes narrowed at Dick. “Well, if her plane couldn’t take off, why didn’t she just ask Uncle Bart to take her?”

“Matt!” Two voices echoed simultaneously from across the room. They belonged to a red-haired woman, now sporting a scolding look on her face, and to a tall, blue-eyed man who was shaking his head at the boys. She vaguely recognized them from Dick’s photograph of his friends from summer camp, but couldn’t remember their names. She wasn’t sure why they were both mad at the children or what Uncle Bart taking her meant. Unless he could teleport or run across water, which seemed unlikely, there was nothing he could have done to help. It was probably just some children's shenanigan.

Dick, however, was not unbothered, and simply laughed the comment off. “It’s not that easy Matt.” He then turned to her, blue eyes gleaming as he rocked the two boys, causing them to erupt into giggles again. “These two spitfires are John and Matt. Beware, they may look cute, but they’re real daredevils.”

“Uncle Dick!” They exclaimed simultaneously heatedly, causing everybody to laugh again.

“And the two rascals belong to these two,” He added as the red-haired woman and the blue-eyed man approached them, gently taking the boys from Dick’s arms. “These are Conner and M’gann.”

M’gann smiled brightly at her, the freckles on her cheeks dancing as she did so. “It is so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you!”

Her husband gave her a small, smiling nod, clearly agreeing with his wife.

Thus began the ceremony of introductions, everybody standing up from their seats on the couch and walking up to introduce themselves to Smokes. First came Kaldur and Wynde, two tall and calm-mannered men; while Kaldur simply shook her hand, his husband enthusiastically pulled her into a hug and started telling her how bad of a driver he was and that she should give him lessons sometimes. Then came Zatanna, a beautiful woman with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes that warmly welcomed her and shot Dick an amused glance. Then it was Will and Lian; she quickly found out Will was Artemis’ brother-in-law, and his daughter Lian couldn’t have been older than 11. She was quite shy with her, but didn’t hesitate to throw herself in Uncle Dick’s arms when he smiled at her.

“Maverick!” Smokes was relieved to hear Tim’s familiar voice, already overwhelmed by all these new faces. Next to him was a gorgeous, blonde woman, holding his hand tightly and looking at him with googly eyes, which she could only assume to be Cassie. “This is my girlfriend, Cassie. Cass, this is Maverick, Dick’s… what is it now? I can’t keep up.”

“Glorified chauffeur. That’s what we settled upon, right, Dick?” She turned and gave him a coy smile, everybody laughing as Dick lightly smacked her arm.

He pouted. “You’re making me sound like an asshole.”

“You’re a bit of an asshole, yes.” She replied quickly, more laughter erupting around the room. She then turned to Cassie. “It is so nice to meet you. Tim talks about you all the time.”

“He’d better be!” She was then pulled into a tight hug as the blonde woman returned all the compliments.

The following person who came to introduce himself was vaguely familiar, and Smokes recognized him when he announced he was Jason, Dick and Tim’s brother, and shook her hand with a curt nod. She’d heard all about the mysterious second Wayne child, who’d been presumed dead for years and had then resurfaced, though always very private and shying away from public scenes. Dick mentioned him from time to time, mostly to say that he was struggling but was doing better with therapy, but Smokes had never found the courage to ask him about what had really happened. Jason was eyeing her suspiciously, glancing between her and her brother, and she felt like she was being subjected to some sort of test unbeknownst to her.

“Right, and finally, this is-” Dick opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by loud shrieks.

“Maverick! We have heard soooo much about you!” An olive-skinned man appeared in front of her, picking her up in his arms and spinning her around as she suppressed a small shriek. She thought the circus was over when he finally put her down, but was instead catapulted in the arms of an auburn-haired man who spun her multiple times before finally letting her go when Dick sternly scolded him with an icy “Bart”.

“I’m Bart.” The auburn-haired one said. “And this is my boyfriend, Jaime, and let me tell you, we may be gay but if we were straight you’re the one we’d go for.”

“Oh lord, not this again.” Conner exhaled from the other side of the room, where he and his sons were setting the table, causing the two little boys to snicker.

“Take us more seriously, Conner!” Jaime yelled at him, then turned back to her and took her hands in his. “You are our hero. Seriously. Penis over here has been a party pooper lately, and we loved the socks.”

Bart nodded gravely. “We have suggestions. And a nickname spreadsheet you should be a part of.”

“We’ll share it with you, scout’s honor,” Jaime added solemnly, putting a hand on his heart. Smokes blinked, not knowing what to say to that.

Dick rolled his eyes at them, shaking his head with an exasperated. “Ignore them. They’re technically 27-year-olds, but they have the sense of humor of 13-year-old boys going through puberty.”

Bart and Jaime gasped dramatically. “Take that back, Dildo! Take that back!”

John tugged at his mother’s sleeve, looking up at her with big blue eyes. “Mommy, what’s a dildo?”

“Bart, Jaime, for the love of god, watch your mouths around the kids!” M’gann scolded, before kneeling in front of her son. “It’s nothing, John, a bad word Uncle Bart and Uncle Jaime shouldn’t be using in the first place.” Her green eyes were piercing them from across the room, and Smokes snorted when the couple started trembling under the woman’s chastising glare.

Dick started looking around the room, seemingly looking for someone, and furrowing his eyebrows. “Hey, Raquel’s not coming tonight?”

“Nope,” Artemis replied while handing some plates to her husband. “She took Amistad to see her parents, and Noble tagged along. Garth is celebrating with Gregor and Tara, and Babs decided to spend the eve with her father.”

Smokes couldn’t stop her mouth from falling agape. “There’s more of you?” She whispered to Dick, but mustn’t have been very subtle, for she heard Zatanna giggle somewhere across the room.

Dick gave her one of his familiar toothy grins, that made her stomach somersault for reasons she couldn’t quite decipher. “You have no idea.”

“Christ. You guys are like the last great american dynasty.” She didn’t bother concealing this comment, which triggered general hysteria as everybody started laughing again.

Despite her initial worries about feeling out of place, Smokes quickly came to the conclusion that Dick had been right all along, and that there had been nothing to worry about. His friends were just as kind and cheerful as he’d described them, instantly including in all their discussions and activities. Jaime and Bart, as promised, added her to the Terrible Dick Pun Nicknames spreadsheet, and they had a ten-minute-long laugh on the couch as they went through the list - purposefully ignoring an increasingly flustered Dick; Zatanna and M’gann sat her down to compliment her outfit and talk about fashion and makeup, Artemis sometimes popping in to criticize all of their fashion sense; Tim and Cassie challenged her to a chess game, which they lost due to their lack of focus on anything other than each other; and Husband Jason and Moody Jason (yes, the jokes about their shared name were neverending) invited her in the kitchen to talk about Italian recipes.

When the time for board games came, after a delicious and copious dinner, Husband Jason somehow found an Italian tombola in his attic - Of course he owns an Italian Christmas board game, how could he not? his wife huffed sarcastically with a smile on her lips as he pressed an apologetic kiss on her forehead - and they spent almost two hours screaming and laughing at each other. Little John had apparently developed a small crush on Smokes, turning bright red every time she simply glanced or spoke to him. When she offered to have him sit on her lap, he turned every shade of the rainbow before eagerly taking her up on the offer. He spent two hours on her lap, happily playing with her and sometimes taking her hand in his.

His brother Matt, who was sitting across from them, placed his small hands on his hips and shook his head at him. “John, you’re an idiot. She’s far too old for you.”

“Matt! How could you!” John yelled with animosity, jumping down from her lap to chase his brother around, the two boys shrieking as their parents sighed and begged them to behave.

Dick, who’d been sitting next to her, leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Should I be jealous?”

She snorted, turning her head and raising her eyebrows at him. This, however, proved to be a mistake because their lips were now far closer than they should have been. Her breath caught in her throat, and she did her best to keep her composure and teasing tone. “About whom? John? I wasn’t aware you wanted to sit in my lap.”

His lips twitched upwards, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe I was just waiting for you to extend the invitation.”

His breath was fanning her face, blue eyes boring into her brown. They dropped to her lips, just for a split second, and it was so fast that Smokes decided she must have been imagining it. There was no other explanation, after all, Dick had no reason to glance at her lips like that. Yet the way he looked at her, the way he drank in her every breath and movement… some part of her knew that wasn’t normal. That normal people didn’t do this, not with their employees or glorified chauffeurs anyway. But she was too terrified to ask him, too terrified about what the answer could be, what it would mean.

For the first time in nearly two years, she was happy; she didn’t want any unwanted truths to disrupt her happiness. Not now. Not yet. She merely wished for a little more time of peace and quiet. Peace and quiet with Dick, investigating and working together. Just for a little while longer. And she was scared the universe would blow her life up again, and take the one thing she cared about from her.

Her job? Or… Dick?

The thought startled her, and it must have shown on her face, because Dick’s teasing grin disappeared from her face.

“Everything ok?” He spoke softly, worried blue eyes searching in her brown.

She willed her body to relax and gave a small smile. “Yes. Don’t worry.”

He narrowed her eyes at her. “You’re a rubbish liar, Smokes.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not lying.” She repeated, breathless. His face was still far too close to her own, and it was hard to think with his lips so close to hers.

But Dick wasn’t deterred in the slightest by her words. “You are. That’s not your real smile.”

She opened her mouth to reply and promptly closed it, her heart threatening to break free from her ribcage.“How… how would you even know the difference between my real smile and my “fake” smile?”

“I just do. When you really smile, your whole face lights up. Not like right now.” He shrugged, but his words were laced with something deeper, something she couldn’t decipher. Or something she didn’t want to decipher.

“Dick, I-” She was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Dick jerked away from her, and they both turned their heads to find Artemis staring at them, an unimpressed eyebrow raised and her hands on her hips.

Her brown gaze was burning right through them, and Smokes suddenly felt small. Like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to, though she had no idea what she’d done. All she knew was that Artemis had cut the tension between them with a knife- no, with a fucking machine gun.

“Richard? Can I talk to you for a second? Outside? Now?” Artemis asked, every question sounding more and more like a stern order.

“Right. Of course. I’ll be right back.” He stood from his seat, gently ruffling her hair, and followed the blonde outside.

The gesture startled her. Actually, that wasn’t quite true; the familiarity of the gesture startled her. When had she and Dick grown so close? When had he started to touch her and tease her like they’d known each other all their lives? She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment. All that she knew was that, despite rationally knowing it shouldn’t have felt like this, it felt right. Awfully right. And she didn’t want him to stop.

Smokes watched Dick leave, stomach bottoming out with an unfamiliar feeling, a weird mix of pleasure and confusion. She wasn’t sure she wanted to decipher it.

She was scared to find out what it meant.

Chapter Text

Once M’gann and Conner managed to get a hold of the boys, the game resumed as before, the only difference being Artemis and Dick’s absence. Smokes offered to go look for them, but everybody shared a knowing glance and told her they’d be back soon enough.

Something was off. It felt like everybody was in on a secret she wasn’t aware of. Hell, even John, Matt, and Lian looked like they knew more than she did.

An hour went by, and there was still no sign of Artemis or Dick. Everybody was laughing happily, enjoying the game, Kaldur had left the table to go to the bathroom, and yet… Smokes could no longer focus on the round, too busy worrying about where the blue-eyed idiot might have ended up. Ten more minutes passed before she eventually excused herself, stood up, and went looking for them.

The task proved to be particularly easy, for their booming voices instantly grabbed her attention. She followed the sound of their argument and ended up in front of a door which she presumed led to the garden. She tried peeking through the small square window, but it was covered in snow, and she could only barely make out their shadows moving outside. Dick, in particular, looked out of it, wildly gesturing in the air while Artemis simply stared back at him with crossed arms.

Despite the loud, angry tones of their voices, Smokes could only vaguely make out what they were saying.

“I just think… she deserves to know…” Dick’s voice was muffled, but she would have recognized it anywhere.

“That’s not up to you… You can’t decide just because…”

“That’s unfair, and you… This has nothing to do…”

“You are blinded and can’t see…” Smokes was surprised to hear Artemis was just as heated as Dick. The blonde had always given her the impression to be the type to keep her cool.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dick had been so stern, so vicious, so cold, that it had been impossible not to catch the whole sentence. He sounded furious. More furious than Smokes had ever seen him.

What in the world were they talking about? Who deserved to know what? Why had they been fighting about this for over an hour? And what-

“Oh. You’re here.” Smokes was startled by the voice behind her, spinning around instantly. Kaldur was standing a few feet from her, in front of a slightly ajar door she assumed led to the bathroom. His arms were crossed and he was staring at her with a curious gaze.

Why was everybody staring at her like that? Why did it feel like everybody knew something she didn’t?

“Oh. Hi. Yes. I came looking for Dick and Artemis but huh…” She struggled to finish her sentence, sheepishly rubbing her neck as their arguing voices boomed from the garden. She couldn’t make out what they were saying anymore, not while upholding a conversation with Kaldur.

“Oh, yeah. Ignore them. They fight all the time. It’s nothing.”

She blinked at that. “They’ve been out there for over an hour.”

“They once went on for three hours.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if this was entirely normal for them, and Smokes couldn’t stop her eyebrows from shooting up. “When you work the jobs they have, they tend to blow everything out of proportion. Suddenly everything becomes a matter of life or death, even the most mundane things. It’s probably nothing.”

“Oh. That makes sense… I guess.” She wasn’t entirely convinced, but then again Kaldur probably knew them better than she did; she had no reason to doubt him.

The man continued to study her. “You studied at Oxford, right? Dick mentioned something about a PhD in physics.”

She tensed at that. The wound was still too fresh to mundanely discuss her past life. She could only get monosyllabic sentences out. “Yes. I did. Quantum physics.”

“Ah, I see. Wynde has a friend teaching physics at Oxford, he absolutely adores it.” She nodded, throat clogging up, and hoped Kaldur didn’t notice her increasing discomfort. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you leave?”

Smokes froze, heart wildly thumping in her chest as every muscle in her body screamed at her to fucking run. She hated how the question made her feel; she hated that after almost two years, her automatic response was still to flee; she hated that she could feel the bile rising in her throat, her vision getting blurry, her breath growing uneven.

No. No. She needed to calm down. She couldn’t afford to have a panic attack right now. Not when Dick had so generously taken her to his friends’ house to celebrate. She couldn’t ruin everybody’s Christmas Eve.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “It’s… complicated.” She eventually settled on that, painfully aware that Kaldur would never buy her I needed a change of scenery bullshit.

“Ah. I understand. I’m sorry I brought it up.” Kaldur’s voice was laced with compassion in a way that made her want to burst into tears. Damn it. She hated this. All of this. “Does Dick know?”

She blinked in confusion. “Know what?”

“Why it’s complicated.”

“I…” Smokes started to answer, but couldn’t find the words. “Why would he know?”

“I don’t know. You guys seem close.”

“He’s my boss.”

“Bosses don’t rescue their employees from canceled flights and celebrate Christmas Eve with them.”

Smokes didn’t find anything to reply. She couldn’t. Kaldur had said something that her brain had been screaming at her for the better part of the past 48 hours, and that she’d dutifully chosen to ignore. But now the screaming had grown too loud, too imposing to ignore, and Kaldur was right: normal bosses did not rescue their employees from canceled flights and celebrate Christmas Eve with them. They didn’t call to make sure her plane had taken off, they didn’t worry about the delays, they didn’t offer to come get them over and over again, they didn’t worry. Not like this. Not like Dick had.

Rationally, she knew this. But the issue was that, rationally, she didn’t have an explanation for this. Yes, Dick was the most selfless and caring person she knew, but… it wasn’t enough of an explanation. She didn’t have one; and so she’d buried her doubts and worries as best as she could, stopped trying to make sense of it.

“Dick doesn’t know.” She eventually mumbled, sighing and dropping her head slightly. It was hard to meet Kaldur’s all-knowing stare. “I… Dick is like a ray of sunshine. I don’t… I don’t want to weigh him down with this.”

It wasn’t entirely false. She’d only briefly considered telling Dick about everything that had gone down in Oxford, a fleeting idea here and there, especially this past month. But… speaking about it still felt impossible. She feared she would shatter the peace she’d so carefully managed to find if she spoke it aloud, if she willed it back into existence. She’d spent the past two years trying to erase it from her memory to no avail, and talking about it now… well, she was physically incapable of doing so. Entertaining the possibility alone of telling Dick was useless.

Kaldur narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t think he could handle it.”

“That’s not what I said.” Her tone was defensive.

“But it’s what you think.”

She lowered her eyes in shame. She had nothing to reply to that. It was true: Dick always saw the best in people, in humanity, and his struggles were close to zero. This was too big for him. He wouldn’t know what to do with it.

Hell, she didn’t know what to do with it. Not when a big ball of dread formed in her stomach every time she thought about it, a ball so big she could play basketball with it. Not when she couldn’t get the words out to explain what had happened.

No. This had already dampened her life enough, and she wouldn’t let it dampen Dick’s life as well.

“Well, for whatever it’s worth, I think you deeply underestimate Dick. He may look like he’s always got it together and doesn’t struggle much, but Dick is probably the one who struggles the most out of all of us. Life hasn’t been kind to him. His parents, Wally… I know he still struggles with that, despite the cheery, boy-next-door persona he’s created for himself. Life has thrown a lot his way, and he’s still standing. Whatever it is, he can handle it. Especially since he cares so much about you.”

Smokes’ eyes widened at that, head whipping up to stare at Kaldur. But the man’s face was deadly serious, not a single line on his forehead suggested he was kidding. It hit her then and there, that maybe everybody had been staring at her because they could tell how much Dick cared about her.

Dick cared about her. She didn’t know what to do with this revelation.

“I-” She started, but was interrupted by the door to the garden opening behind her. Dick walked in, the deep frown settled on his face instantly melting into a soft expression when his eyes landed on her.

“Smokes. What are you doing here?” His voice was soft, relieved, but something was off. Whatever he’d fought about with Artemis was still weighing on his mind. His arm brushed against hers, causing her breath to catch in her throat yet again. She could feel Kaldur’s hard, inquisitive stare on them, and hated the gold rush that came onto her cheeks.

“I came looking for you. You’ve been gone a while.” She breathed quickly, trying to hide how flustered she was at a simple touch from him.

“Sorry. Art and I needed to talk about some… work stuff.”

“Everything ok?”

She searched his blue eyes, but couldn’t manage to read whatever emotion was swirling in them. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry. Come on, it’s probably time we leave anyway. It’s almost 1 A.M, and you have a flight to catch tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, it has gotten quite late.” She said, distractedly glancing at her watch.

The three of them walked back into the living room, Artemis following not far behind with a small scowl on her face. John and Matt had passed out on the couch, and M’gann and Conner were also gathering their things to leave. Apparently, they were headed out to Conner’s parent’s ranch, to spend Christmas day with them and his brother’s family.

Husband Jason handed them their coats while everybody gathered around to say their goodbyes. Cassie hugged Smokes tightly, inviting her to come visit in Washington, and promising to have dinner with her when she was back in Gotham; Bart and Jaime spun her around once more, Zatanna scolding them before proceeding to hog her as well; Will and Lian promised to visit more often, Lian even giving her a shy hug now that she’d grown more familiar with her; Moody Jason parted with another firm handshake, and mumbled something along the lines of “I’ll probably bump into you at Wayne Manor soon enough anyways” under his breath; Conner and M’gann laughed with her about John’s crush and promised to bring the kids around more often.

Tim pulled her into a tight, heartfelt hug. “You’re my favorite colleague right now. Please don’t quit on me and abandon me with Dingo over here.” She laughed at that, assuring him that she had no intention of leaving. Dick, however, found his comment less funny, and smacked the back of his head with a pout on his face.

Artemis and her husband accompanied them to the front door, and the tension between Dick and the former could have been cut with a knife. The two just stared at each other, their eyes continuing the fight they’d been having outside. They hugged nonetheless, Artemis muttering a cryptic “Just think about what I said. Don’t be dumb.”. Dick gave an unconvinced nod but did not reply.

Husband Jason hugged them both warmly, either oblivious to the tension or eagerly ignoring it, and invited them both to come back any time they wanted.

“Preferably not Easter, especially if the idiot decides to wear a bunny suit. The sight might traumatize you.” Artemis muttered, and the comment managed to get a laugh out of all of them, even Dick.

Ten minutes later, they were driving peacefully, Dick taking her back to her apartment. He’d come pick her up again in the morning to take her to the airport. Smokes attempted asking again about what he and Artemis had been fighting about in the garden, but Dick non-committedly brushed her off, assuring her that it was not a big deal and nothing for her to worry about.

Finally, after another twenty minutes, he was parked in front of her building. She turned in her seat to face him, a grateful smile gracing her lips. “Dick. Thank you.”

He laughed, brushing it off. “It was nothing, Smokes.”

“No, it wasn’t nothing. It was a lot. I had a great Christmas Eve, and it’s all thanks to you. So thank you.”

“Seriously, it was nothing, I-”

She felt her cheeks heat up. “Will you just shut up and take the compliment already? I was about to have the shittiest Christmas Eve in the history of Christmas Eves, and you saved me from having to spend it all alone, so thank you. I mean it.”

Dick paused at her sudden outburst, his eyes searching her brown for… something. There it was again. That look she couldn’t decipher. It was warm, and gentle; tender even. Loving. She was starting to get used to it, used to him looking at her like that.

It made her face grow crimson, but she didn’t want him to stop.

“You’re welcome, Smokes. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dick.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“What is it, Artemis?” Dick huffed, irritated. He’d been in the middle of speaking with Smokes, and he couldn’t understand why the blonde had seemed so angry all of a sudden.

The two of them were standing in the garden, just a few feet from each other, snow falling gently around them as they stared at one another. Artemis’ arms were crossed on her chest, and she did not look impressed with him.

She simply raised an eyebrow at him in return. “What is it? What do you mean what is it? Have you seen yourself?”

“Seen myself doing what, exactly?”

Artemis sighed, massaging her temples and using the gentlest tone of voice he’d ever heard her use. “Listen, Dick… Everything you’ve done for Maverick is remarkable, truly. Charitable, generous, whatever you want to call it. But you cannot seriously tell me nothing’s going on.”

“Artemis, her flight was delayed a bajillion times. She was going to end up spending Christmas Eve alone. I couldn’t just abandon her. You said it was fine for me to bring her along! I thought you liked her.” He exclaimed, not understanding what the woman was trying to tell her. Smokes had been in a tight spot, and he’d been worried and offered his help. That was all there was to it.

“I do! I really like her! And it was completely fine for her to come, that’s not what I’m talking about here!”

“Well? Then what’s the issue?”

“I… god, you are dense.” She groaned, shaking her head, then bore her brown eyes right into his blue. “Listen to me, Dick. Maverick isn’t here to stay. This job - glorified chauffeur like you guys like to call it - it’s just a pit stop for her. She’s going to move on eventually, leave you here in Gotham, and go back to her old life. And you’re going to be left picking up the pieces of your heart.”

He flinched at her cold, biting words, somehow colder than the snow falling on them. He knew what she meant. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it, the day when Smokes would finally take off. Part of him dreaded it, the selfish part that wanted to pull her closer into him and never let go; the part that wanted to wipe every person who’d hurt her from the face of the earth; the part that wanted to protect her, no matter from what or whom. But the kinder, selfless part knew it was inevitable. He knew he had to hope for her to leave because it would mean that she’d found her way back to her real life.

Not this life, whatever this life was for her right now.

It didn’t matter if it was everything for him. It wasn’t for her. And it would never be.

“You think I don’t know that this is just temporary for her? I know she’s meant for greater things. But for now, she’s figuring her life out, and she wants to do it here, and I’m not going to stop her.”

Artemis scoffed. “Oh yeah? Has it never crossed your mind that working with you endangers her exponentially?”

“Of course it has! But she knows it too, and she’s still here, and it’s her decision.”

“She’s still here because she doesn’t know the truth. All of it. She doesn’t know about you being Nightwing, and Batman, and the League, and-”

“Well, maybe we should tell her, then!” Dick yelled at her, his breath visible in the cold air.

There was a pause. A long, silent pause. Artemis’ eyes widened slowly, horror and something else swirling in them as the words hung between them.

“You cannot be serious right now.” Her voice was barely a whisper, yet he could hear the raw fury behind each word.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I think we should tell her.”

It was true. This train of thought had been occupying his mind for the past month. He didn’t want to lie to her any longer, didn’t want to hide any part of him or the work he did from her. He wanted her to know everything, and she deserved to know it. Every day, she risked her life unknowingly, and did things far more important than she could possibly imagine. He wanted her to know. Wanted her to be proud of herself. Of him.

Artemis shook her head, lower lip trembling. “No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Why- why not?” She sputtered loudly, raising her voice. “Have you even heard yourself? You want to drag a civilian into this mess?”

“She’s already in the mess! She tags along for every investigation and pours her heart into everything she does just as much as you and I and every other superhero. If anything, it’s unfair that we keep lying to her like this.”

“Unfair?” She practically spat the word in his face. “How is keeping her safe unfair?”

“Because she’s risking her life without knowing the full extent of it! She thinks we’re just dumb P.I.s, she doesn’t know just how high the stakes are with everything we do.” Dick tried to steady his voice, in vain. His throat was thick with emotion and tears. He didn’t want this discussion to implode into an argument. “It’s unfair. I just think, given everything she’s done for us and everything she’ll keep doing for us, she deserves to know the full truth. Not just some vanilla version of it.”

“That’s not up to you, Dick! You can’t just make a decision like that on your own!” Well. So much for keeping this from imploding into an argument. “It’s not just your secret identity on the line, it’s hundreds of people’s privacies. You can’t go around telling people you have a soft spot for these types of things. You can’t decide just because you have an… inclination.” Dick blinked at her. Inclination? What in the world did she mean by that?

“That’s unfair, and you know it. This has nothing to do with whatever movie you’ve conjured up in your mind. Smokes works hard, and she deserves to know. It’s unfair of us to hide such a huge thing from her. We’re stopping her from making an informed decision.”

Artemis started laughing sarcastically, her chest shaking with something close to disbelief. “You are blinded, and you can’t see how much pain you’d be causing her. How much you’ll endanger her. Especially, after what that man did to her in Oxford when he-”

“Stop it. Right there. I don’t want to know.” His voice was stern. Cold. He couldn’t control himself. This wasn’t Artemis’ story to tell. He didn’t want to find out from her.

No. He wanted to Smokes to tell him. He wanted her to tell him because she wanted to tell him. Because she trusted him enough to do so. And he didn’t care how long it would take her, he would wait.

He would always wait for her.

“What do you mean you don’t want to know? Haven’t you…” Dick watched with a hard gaze as Artemis’ eyes widened yet again, but this time they were filled with something entirely different. “Holy shit, have you not read her file?”

There was a pause. “No, I haven’t.”

“What- why?” She stammered in disbelief.

“Because I respect her privacy. She doesn’t have to tell me anything she doesn’t want to.”

She snorted acerbically. “When have you ever respected anyone’s privacy?”

“I respect the privacy of the people I care about.”

There was another long silence as the weight of what he’d just said sank in. He cared about Smokes. Cared about her way more than he was willing to admit to himself and others. He wanted her to be happy.

Even if it meant being happy without him.

“Holy fucking shit.” Artemis cursed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re totally gone for her, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Either you are in the deepest denial I’ve ever seen, or you’re actually the world’s biggest fucking idiot.” She pointed a finger at him, placing it accusingly on his chest. Dick didn’t flinch away. “Everyone can see what’s happening, it’s clear as fucking day on your face. Hell, even a blind person could tell. Everyone can tell but you, apparently. If you can’t even tell what’s happening to you right now… I have no words. There might be no hope for you, then.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He repeated, tone bitter and words glacial. This conversation was taking a turn he didn’t know how to handle. He didn’t want to handle it. Not yet.

“Sure. You keep telling yourself that.” Artemis shook her head, sighing for what seemed to be the hundredth time of the night. Her tone was softer when she spoke again. “If you really care about her, then you’re going to do what’s best for her and let her go before she gets irreversibly hurt.”

Dick blinked in confusion. “Hurt by what?”

“By our world.” She opened her arms, gesturing at everything around her. “By the implications of everything. By us. By you.” The last word was barely a whisper, her brown eyes full of passion and… pity.

Pity for whatever would happen to him once Smokes left.

He was about to reply when Jason’s voice interrupted them.“Guys, for the love of god, she’s come to look for you. Keep it down.”

His brother emerged from behind Artemis, and they were both startled by his sudden entrance. “How did you even get out here?” Dick questioned.

“I circled the house from the front door. Shut the fuck up and come back inside, ok? She’s worried sick. You can decide whether to tell her about the superhero shit or not another day, perhaps not on Christmas Eve and outside of her earshot.”

Dick gave Artemis one long, hard glance. “Fine.”

“Fine.” The blonde echoed back.

But just because this was the end of the conversation right now didn’t mean he would back down. Oh no. He wouldn’t back down an inch. He was dead set on telling Smokes. She deserved to know. And he would find a way to make it happen.

Chapter Text

The Christmas holidays came and went faster than Smokes had expected.

On Christmas day, her plane finally finally took off, and she was thus able to join her family in Rome. She had never been so happy to see her parents and her brother Eric - or well, she hadn’t been this happy to see them in nearly two years. She didn’t even mind the endless sea of cousins and aunts and uncles and distant relatives that flooded their house the following two weeks. Her good mood must have been very apparent, for her brother ventured a “You look better” that made her heart squeeze. Bless her little brother’s heart.

She also kept up with Dick nearly daily, the latter sending her pictures of Johnny and Matt running around Kent ranch, or of Jason and Damian - whom she had yet to meet - frowning in Christmas hats. She even received some funny - albeit slightly creepy - selfies from Bart and Jaime, whom had managed to steal his phone at some point. She was touched that he hadn’t forgotten about her, despite her quite literally being on a different continent.

Dick offered to extend her stay in Rome, to make up for the days she’d lost due to the delay, but Smokes vehemently refused. She loved her family, and she was very happy to see them, but she also itched to get back to work. Driving Dick around - and occasionally getting shot at - put her mind at ease, and she couldn’t wait to go back out there and help the people of Gotham. For a long time, she’d thought she was a selfish person; and maybe, she still was, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help people and do selfless things.

And so Smokes returned to Gotham as originally planned, on the fifth of January, and life resumed like it had before.

Well, almost like before.

She and Dick had grown exponentially closer, so close it was impossible to keep denying just how much she cared about him. He’d wiggled his way into her heart and had become more than a boss: he’d become a friend. And she’d never been happier to have a friend, someone on her team, someone she knew she could count on. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d truly been, how much she’d needed a friend until he’d found his way into her life.

She’d felt so guilty she’d even called Cora and Ember, her best friends, multiple times over the course of the holidays. The two girls had been delighted to hear from her, and they’d spent hours catching up and inquiring about her hot boss, which had only earned them unimpressed eye rolls.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dick’s voice from the passenger seat interrupted her reverie.

Smoke turned to face him. The late January sunlight was shining on his face, blue eyes gleaming in the daylight, crinkled from the sly smirk he was sporting. Luckily, December had seen the worst of snow, and weather forecasts predicted a warm end of winter and an early spring.

“Just thinking that life is funny, that’s all.” She replied with a grin, returning her attention to the street ahead - though she was half certain his smile had spread even wider at the sight of hers. It was 8:37 AM, and they were on their way to the Nest. Smokes was usually groggy in the morning, but it was hard to be in a bad mood when Dick was always so jolly and keen on lifting her spirits.

She’d been back at work for nearly a month and still had trouble believing just how peaceful her life had become. She’d been happy in Rome, but the feeling of relief that had flooded her when she’d spotted Dick waiting for her at the airport once she’d come back, hands in pocket and shy smile on his face… she’d felt the urge to fling herself in his arms (she hadn’t, of course, for it wasn’t appropriate to jump in one’s boss’ arms but… still. He looked like he would be an excellent hugger. She tried not to think about it too often.)

“Funny enough to land you a job as a glorified chauffeur?”

“Well, you’re getting ahead of yourself. I was a glorified secretary first.”

Dick nodded solemnly, lips trembling and threatening to break into laughter. “Hm, yes, one can never forget their vocation.”

“I still mourn it. Truly my dream job.”

A small silence filled the car before the two of them burst out laughing.

After stopping by the local coffee shop to get Dick a steaming cup - the man seemed not to be able to function without the beverage - the two of them headed up the stairs of the Nest still laughing and exchanging playful banter.

“Hi, Tim, it’s us!” Dick sang as he opened the door to the apartment, stepping to the side to let Smokes walk in first. She instantly spotted Tim, who was seated at his desk, as usual, perusing multiple websites on his three computer screens.

The man rolled his eyes, twisting his chair to face them. “I can hear you guys coming from a mile away, you’re always laughing up the stairs like hyenas.”

Dick feigned a dramatic gasp. “Like hyenas? Oh, Timothee, surely you have better insults than that.”

“Do not call me Timothee.” The young man’s nostrils flared, making Smokes snort as she sat comfortably on the couch. She and Dick normally didn’t spend much time at the Nest anyways, so the two men hadn’t bothered getting her a desk yet. Dick reached his own desk in three long strides, dropping onto his chair with a content hum. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you, Dickinson.”

“Why not?”

“You guys are headed back to the retirement home.”

Smokes furrowed her eyebrows. “The retirement home? The one with the bank robbery?”

“Yup.” Tim nodded, turning to his computer and pulling up several police reports. She’d never found the courage to ask how exactly he got his hands on so many police reports, but she had a feeling it wasn’t in a very legal manner. “Look at this. There were a bunch of complaints from the residents, almost 20 just yesterday. The power keeps going out, and they’ve been complaining that the ground is constantly shaking, whatever that means. A few of them thought it was an earthquake and called 911, but obviously, it wasn’t one.”

“And we’re sure this isn’t just some old people thing? Don’t old people tend to be a bit paranoid?” Dick suggested, bringing the coffee cup to his lips.

“Normally I’d be prone to agree with you, but too many of them are complaining about the same thing to be making it up. Besides, I activated our seismograph, and-”

“You guys have a seismograph?” Smokes asked, incredulous. What did these two not own?

Tim waved her off. “Bruce had a small investment stint in Iceland a few years back. The island is right next to a mid-”

“I know Iceland is close to a mid-ocean ridge, you don’t need to explain that to me.” I was a physicist, I know about fucking mid-ocean ridges she was tempted to add, but it seemed too unfair to lash out at the poor man like that. Besides, could she really call herself a physicist anymore? She hadn’t practiced in nearly two years.

There was a small pause. Tim winced; Dick shot her an inquisitive, worried look, that she swiftly decided to ignore. “Right. Sorry. I forgot. Anyways, look at this.” He pulled up a seismic graph on his computer, multiple different color graph lines blending onto the screen.

Both Dick and Smokes moved closer to get a better look, standing on each side of Tim’s chair. The former, in particular, leaned in to analyze the data. “I… have no clue what this means.” He admitted, after a short silence, causing Tim to snicker.

“Well, Madame Maverick, do you want to do the honors?”

She rolled her eyes at the title but focused on the graph nonetheless. She started anxiously chewing her lips between her teeth, eyes darting back and forth. She hadn’t seen one of these graphs in a while. Sure, her research had been focused on quantum physics, but she’d taken multiple seismology classes over the years. “From what I can tell these graphs represent seismic activity from seven different days. It’s peculiar though, because they practically superimpose. As if the seismic activity was identical each day.”

Tim smiled while Dick stared at her with awe, nothing but admiration painted on his features. “Bingo,” the former started. “The seismic activity has been corresponding for the past seven days.”

She leaned closer, pointing her fingers at spikes in the activity. “It always spikes here. At 11 AM and 4 PM.”

“Which also matches the time of the reports from the retirement home residents.” Dick completed, his gaze fixed on the screen still displaying the various reports and complaints.

“Exactly. You guys went to interrogate them last time, they’re already used to you, which is why I think it’s best if you investigate this matter.” Tim’s voice was nonchalant, childlike, but they knew him well.

Dick and Smokes exchanged a look over his head, the man lightly shaking his head with a sigh, before turning back to Tim. “Are you seriously dumping this on us so you can have phone sex with Cassie?”

The younger man jumped in his seat, turning around and flailing his arms to shoo them away, sputtering. “What? That is a preposterous notion, Richard Grayson Wayne, and I am appalled that you would think such a vile thing of me, your dear, precious, little-”

“Tim. Your third screen is open on your conversation with Cassie.” Smokes deadpanned, pointing to the screen where everybody could read the flirty - and slightly cringy - texts he and Cassie had been exchanging.

Tim froze for a split second, turning every existing shade of red and his life flashing before his eyes, before quickly turning the screen off. He turned his head away, crossing his arms indignantly. “Well, off you go, children, hurry up now. 11 AM is approaching fast, and you don’t want to risk missing the pseudo-earthquake.”

“We’re literally both older than you.” She quipped, but her comment was hastily ignored.

“Bah, potato potatoe, you’d better get going! You have a long day ahead of you!”

“Oh, only the young! Timothee, it’s only 8:30 in the morning you poor thing, how are you going to last a whole day?” Dick guffawed, hand on his stomach as tears formed in his eyes at the hilarity of the situation.

“Do not call me, Timothee!” His brother thundered back, grabbing a stack of papers and flinging it at him. Dick swiftly dodged it, grabbing Smokes by the arm and pulling her towards the front door.

“Careful to wrap your willy, Timothee!” He continued teasing as he closed the door behind them; his action was followed by a loud thump against the door - probably Tim throwing something else at him.

Smokes narrowed her eyebrows at Dick, her lips slightly twitching upwards. “You were riling him up.”

The man snorted as they descended the stairs, turning to her and giving her a sly smirk. “So what if I was?”

Her breath caught in her throat as his blue eyes met her brown, gaze determined and gleaming. It was hard to reply when Dick looked at her like that; when he drank her every move and breath as if it was water. She willed her voice to steady nonetheless. “Don’t tell me you’ve never blown off work to have phone sex.”

His face displayed a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Have you?”

“Well, no, but my name isn’t Dick Grayson.” She said as she walked right past him, hair swinging back and forth and lightly brushing his face as she passed him. She stopped at the building’s front door, opened it wide, and turned around to face him. She leaned on the side jamb, holding out the keys to her car in her hand and spinning them mindlessly, the little cloud of smoke and lightning bolt charms glistening. “Well? Are we ready to go or what, old man?”

The “old man” in question could only stare at her, as if in a trance, before chuckling and jogging to her.

“I’m never ready when it comes to you, Smokes.”

Chapter Text

They’d been ready for the retirement home, but the retirement home hadn’t been ready for them. To say the residents were fed up with the accidents was an understatement. Most of them were furious, blaming the administration, then the city, then the cops - any type of authority figure they had. Even the residents that had been kind to them back in December were reluctant to speak to them now. Gerland and Hilda barely opened the door for them, and certainly did not invite them inside last time (they consequently didn’t attempt knocking on Chris’ door, fearing the old man’s wrath). House after house, residents were gradually more reluctant to speak with them and share what they knew. The only thing they could ascertain was that the power indeed kept cutting off, sometimes as often as four times per day, and the residents felt the ground shaking multiple times, especially at 11 AM and 4 PM.

“That was terrible.” Smokes complained as they were turned away from yet another house. They’d been here nearly two hours and hadn’t learned much.

“Yeah, they’re much less willing to share than last time.” Dick agreed.

“It’s no wonder with all these electricity outages and earthquakes. They must be exhausted.” She paused, frowning. “Hey, what time is it?”

“Huh…” He glanced at his watch and grew quiet. “11:12.”

“Shit. Did we miss the earthquake?”

He scratched his head, looking around them. The houses looked intact. “But we’ve been here the whole time. We couldn’t have missed it. Maybe it didn’t happen this time?”

But when they reached Maggie’s house, the woman confirmed there indeed had been a peculiar tremor of the earth just minutes prior (according to her, it was the aliens taking over but that was… a controversial opinion).

“Something’s not right. We were here, how could we possibly miss an earthquake?” Dick exclaimed as they walked down the stairs of Maggie’s front porch.

“We couldn’t have. Yet Maggie is sure she heard it. Check the seismograph, maybe?” She suggested, and the man instantly took his phone out to check that out.

Smokes leaned over his arm to get a closer look at the screen, and she could have sworn his whole body tensed and his breath caught in his throat as she did. It was just a split second, though, and Dick quickly regained his composure - so fast that she decided she must have been imagining it. The two of them frowned as they looked at the new graph.

Dick shook his head. “Nope. Graph agrees with Maggie, there was definitely seismic activity here at 11. We somehow missed it.”

“Well… that’s odd.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Maybe we were just distracted. We’ll pay more attention at 4 PM. Let’s just keep interrogating the residents.”

They spent the following hours knocking on every door, asking if anybody had heard or seen anything to explain this weird phenomenon, only taking a short break to have lunch. Nobody had seen or heard anything suspicious, and most promptly shut their doors in their faces when they realized neither Smokes nor Dick had any solution to the issue.

It was now 3:58, and needless to say, they had made no progress since the beginning of the day. The two of them stood on the sidewalk in front of the last house they’d visited (or, well, attempted to visit, for the old couple had barely opened the door to speak to them). They were immobile, eyes glued to Dick’s watch as they waited for the clock to strike 4.

“Any second now,” Dick mumbled as his digital watch displayed 3:59.

They were both holding their breaths, too scared to do anything as they waited for the fateful hour.

The screen flickered, the number four flashing bright. Dick and Smokes stood still, waiting for the earthquake to hit.

There was a small pause. And then…

Nothing. Not a single thing. They shared a glance with knitted brows, then immediately scrambled to check the seismograph.

Dick cursed. “Shit. It says seismic activity again.”

“But we were right here!” Smokes exclaimed. “How could we have missed it?”

“We couldn’t have.”

They spent the following hour asking the residents if they’d all felt the earthquake, to which they all answered yes (though most with a grumble and a disapproving, exhausted glare).

Something wasn’t adding up, and neither of them could figure out what it was. When 6 PM arrived, they decided to call it a day and resume their investigation the following day, hoping that a good night’s sleep would perhaps give them some clarity.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

It most certainly did not.

When they reached the retirement home the following day and the clock struck 11, they were just as puzzled as the previous day.

“This has got to be some sick joke.” Dick huffed as they walked down the street. “We’ve missed three earthquakes now, yet both the seismograph and the old people can feel it. Are we immune to earthquakes or what?”

Smokes snorted. “I’m afraid that’s scientifically impossible.”

The comment seemed to lift Dick’s spirits, a small smile spreading over his lips as he playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “Rude, Dr. Smokes.”

“Cruel, truly.” She quipped back, bumping his shoulder in retaliation.

“Well, cruelty aside, this doesn’t make any sense. Why can’t we feel the earthquakes? What are we doing wrong?”

She bit her lip, glancing around the neighborhood. It was a quiet, cozy neighborhood, with rows of colorful houses and charming front yards filled with blooming flowers despite the weather. As a child, she’d always longed to have one of those vibrant, jolly houses as an adult; she’d always pictured herself living in a dainty apartment in Paris, flowers hanging from her balcony and bright plaques ornating her door. That was but a distant dream, though, and her minimalistic Gotham apartment suited her just fine.

The realization hit her like a truck.

“Oh my god.” She mumbled, eyes widening as she twisted back and forth to get a better look at the houses.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, eyes boring into her to make sure she was alright. “What? What is it?”

“I think I just figured it out.”

“You figured out why we can’t feel the earthquakes?”

“Yes. It’s because we’re out here, while the residents are inside their houses.”

He blinked in confusion. “I… what?”

“Think of it as a scientific experiment. The objective is to feel the earthquakes, and there are two test subjects: us, and the residents. Only the residents can feel the earth shake, and the only difference in our experiment conditions is-”

“-Our location.” He completed, nothing but pure fondness filling his eyes. Smokes felt herself growing flustered under his gaze.

“Exactly. The only difference I can make out is that we’re out here while they’re inside. So, as psychotic as it might sound, I think we need to convince one of them to let us into their house for the next earthquake.”

“Smokes, you cunning genius.”

The compliment made her cheeks warm yet again. “Hopefully we can convince someone to let us in. They haven’t been exactly… friendly to us, these past few days.”

He smirked. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.”

True to his word, all it took was a few sweet words and his unmistakable Grayson charm for the two of them to find a resident willing to let them in. Cara was somewhere in her late 70s, and probably half deaf, but all it had taken was one flash of Dick’s smile and dimples and the woman had practically folded in half. They were now sitting on her couch, waiting patiently for 4 PM to come while she served them tea and biscuits. She was talking about her youth and her four cats, but she was only looking at Dick while she did so - it was almost as if Smokes didn’t even exist, and she nearly forgot to serve her some tea.

Smokes leaned into Dick to whisper in his ear. “Looks like you have an admirer.”

She watched as his jaw tensed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he inhaled. He didn’t look at her when he replied, and she wondered whether she was imagining the blush on his cheeks. “That was what I was counting on.” It was supposed to be a quip, she realized, but something was off about his teasing tone.

Cara returned to the living room with more biscuits before Smokes could inquire further. She was probably just imagining things anyway. The three of them calmly waited for the earthquake to hit, Cara still recalling her life - she’d now reached the eighties - and seeking Dick’s validation. To his credit, he was an incredible actor and Smokes almost believed he was truly interested in what the old lady was telling them. Almost, because from the way his leg kept anxiously bobbing up and down against hers, she could tell he couldn’t wait to get out of there and solve the mystery.

“And so, you see, by 1995, I was still as single as a pringle! But then of course, I met old Rodrick- oh, Rodrick, my poor husband, how would you feel if you knew-” Cara’s sentence was abruptly interrupted as the whole house started shaking. “See! This is what I’ve been telling you about! The whole ground starts shaking and-”

Cara shrieked as a painting fell from the wall and shattered to their left. Dick instinctively grabbed onto Smokes’ arm and pulled her into him, shielding her body with his own as he looked around. She tried wiggling out of his grasp, wanting to help, but his grip on her arm was firm yet gentle.

20 seconds went by before the ground stopped shaking, but Dick didn’t let go of her before another minute had passed, seemingly scared that the earth would start trembling again. She only managed to peel herself away from him when his hold finally eased, and they were now far closer than they’d been before. Dick was glancing around, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he looked around.

“Well, the ground definitely shook this time.” Smokes tried to joke, but the man was still lost in thought.

“Something’s not right.” He eventually drawled.

“What do you mean?”

“Only the left side of the house started moving. That wall in particular.” He pointed at the wall where the painting had dropped on the floor, abruptly standing up and walking to it. Smokes scrambled to her feet, following right behind him.

They avoided the shattered glass gracefully - well, Dick danced around it quite elegantly; Smokes, on the other hand, walked right into it and was fairly certain she heard Cara groan from the couch - and stood in front of the wall. Dick was still deep in thought, rubbing his chin as his entire attention was focused on the surface in front of them. He started knocking on it, searching for… Smokes couldn’t tell.

“Dick, what are you-” But before she could finish her sentence, Dick started moving again, turning the corner to inspect the other side of the wall. Smokes followed him clumsily, cursing when she stepped on more broken glass.

A huge, grey electrical system panel was wedged right in the middle of the wall. Dick frowned again, opening the panel: inside, various buttons and electrical cables were all jumbled together. The man pushed them to the side as best as he could and knocked on the back surface of the panel. His grimace spread at the sound it made.

“Cara? How long has this panel been here?”

“Huh, not long, actually. They came to do renovations all around the neighborhood.”

“They?” Smokes asked.

“Oh yes, the electrical company. They said all of our systems were outdated and they replaced them with these fancy boxes.”

“When was this, exactly?” Dick was practically sticking his head inside the panel as he spoke.

“Hmm… let me think… Maggie had her hotpot, and Gerald and Hilda’s grandkids were here… mid-November, maybe? Somewhere around that. It hadn’t snowed yet.”

“Right before the robbery,” Dick muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Smokes. His gaze scanned the panel for a few more seconds before he finally stepped back, rolling up his sleeves with care. “Smokes, stand back.”

“I… what?” She stuttered.

“Just stand back and trust me.”

She barely had the time to take a step back as Dick grabbed onto the panel’s side and physically ripped it out of the wall with a grunt, a wave of dirt picking up and blinding her momentarily. The wall shuddered, and she was fairly certain Cara screeched when she saw what he was doing.

Smokes coughed. “Christ, Dick, what in the world are you-” The words died in her throat as her eyes landed on the hole in the wall.

The gaping hole that led to an underground passage, a spiral staircase dipping under the surface and leading only God knew where.

Dick swatted the cloud of dirt away with his hands, kneeling in front of the hole as he poked his head inside and inspected it.

He smiled.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Five minutes later, Dick and Smokes descended into the passage, armed with flashlights that Cara had generously provided them. Dick had tried to argue Smokes shouldn’t come down with him, but the glare she’d given him had been enough to dissuade him from further arguing.

They were going down the stairs carefully - Smokes walking behind him at his insistence -, Dick cautiously checking for booby traps with every step he took. The staircase itself wasn’t particularly long, but they were climbing down at an agonizingly slow pace, and it took them nearly ten whole minutes to descend it fully.

When they finally reached the bottom, Dick offered his hand to her as she hopped the last stair, which was unusually tall. She did her best to ignore the way his warm, big hand felt in hers, the way his calloused fingers brushed over hers. She removed her hand from his as soon as she landed, brushing the dust away from her jeans and looking away. She still caught the way he was looking at her, though: like he was physically hurt by her pulling away from him. Like he wanted to pull her closer.

She didn’t have time to ponder over his gaze as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes widened at the sight.

“Holy shit. Is this…” She blinked in astonishment, unable to formulate what she was seeing.

“A maze? I’m afraid that is exactly what this is.” Dick completed with a huff, surveying the tall labyrinth walls.

They’d somehow landed in a gigantic underground basement, tall grey walls covering the entirety of the surface and forming one colossal maze. They were so tall she could barely make out the other side of the room. But in the middle-

“Look at that light.” She pointed to the soft orange glow she could make out in the distance. It looked like it was positioned more or less in the center of the room. “What is that?”

He shook his head, squinting his eye in its direction. “I have no clue. But whatever it is, it’s bad news. And it’s connected to the bank robbery. There’s no way an underground maze appears under the retirement home mere weeks before the robbery happens, it’s too much of a coincidence.”

There was a small silence.

“We should probably check that out.” She eventually said, holding her flashlight upright and walking towards the entrance of the maze.

Dick’s eyes betrayed his panic. “Wait, Smokes, hold on, don’t-”

But it was too late. She’d already taken her first step into the maze, her foot sinking into the ground as she did so. The sound of a mechanism clanking boomed throughout the basement, and Smokes instantly looked down: she’d stepped right onto a booby trap.

“Smokes, get the fuck out of the way!” Dick screamed, running towards her. He barely had time to push her forward as a wall rose right where she’d been standing.

She fell face-first onto the ground, her flashlight tumbling ahead. She winced as she got up, scrambling for the item, her only source of light in the otherwise pitch-dark basement. Her hand landed on her knee and dread filled her entire body as she felt something sticky coating it. She brought the light to her hand: it was covered in blood. She cursed, inspecting the situation. She’d scraped her knee in her fall, but at least it didn’t hurt and the bleeding looked superficial at best.

Smokes turned to take in the wall that had just surged from the ground, illuminating it with her flashlight. Her features morphed into horror as she kept having to move the light up and up and up, climbing until she’d finally reached the ceiling. She gulped. If she’d stayed a second longer on that booby trap, she would have been squished to death.

The morbid thought was interrupted by the sound of someone banging onto the wall, screaming his lungs off.

“Smokes!” Bang. “Smokes!” Bang. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

Relief flooded her entire system as she realized it was Dick. She ran to the wall, patting it in search of a mechanism to make it drop back into the ground.

“Dick! I’m ok, it’s alright!”

The banging stopped, and she faintly heard him sigh in relief. “Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“For heaven’s sake, Smokes, did no one ever teach you not to walk onto holy ground?”

She cringed. “I’m so sorry, Dick, this is entirely my fault. I didn’t think the place would be booby-trapped.”

“It’s… it’s ok, don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re ok.”

She continued tapping around the wall, grimacing as she looked for a lever or a button to push the wall back down. “Dick… any ideas on how to bring this wall back down?”

He cursed. “I’m just as lost as you. I can’t find anything.”

Shit. She was stuck on this side of the wall.

She stopped her search, looking around. She was surrounded by more intimidatingly tall walls, her only sources of light being the flashlight and the soft orange glow in the distance. She weighed her options. She could stay put, waiting for Dick to find a way to get her out of there. Or…

“Dick, I’m going to check that orange light out.”

“What?” He sputtered, disapproval dripping from his voice. “Are you insane? Did you already forget how you were two seconds from dying just a moment ago?”

“Well, I’m not going to sit here and do nothing while I wait for you to save me. Besides, what if someone else is down here?”

“That’s an argument in favor of you not moving, not in favor of you exploring the deadly maze!”

She ignored his exasperated quip, thinking her plan through. “If someone else is down here, they’ve heard this wall coming up. It’ll only be a matter of moments before they come looking for me. If I stay put, they’ll find me instantly. But if I move-”

“You cannot be serious right now, Smokes. What part of being chased around by criminals in a gigantic, death trap maze sounds like a good idea to you?” Dick scoffed, and she could hear him still patting the wall in search of a solution.

Dick was making a good point, but… Smokes was stubborn. And curious. And perhaps she liked the risk as well.

“Look, Dick, just call your buddy Nightwing or something. Call for backup, and in the meantime, I’ll go figure out what’s going on.”

“Smokes, don’t you dare move.” She could hear the panic in his voice as he uttered each word. “Stay put. Do you hear me? I’m going to call for backup, just… stay put and don’t move, alright.”

“I… ok.” She agreed, sighing.

“Good. I’ll be back as fast as I can, I promise. Be careful.” He replied quickly, footsteps growing increasingly distant as he started running towards the staircase.

Smokes placed her ear against the wall, listening in case he came back. She held her breath, counting to 30 in her head. No sound of movement from the other side. Good.

With one final, deep breath, Smokes stepped away from the wall and into the maze.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Whoever had designed the maze had not been particularly smart about it. That, or Smokes was not the intended audience, because to say the labyrinth was easy was… a vast understatement.

There were no real obstacles, and while she was very careful about not accidentally activating booby traps, the path to the soft orange light was otherwise fairly straightforward. It only took her ten minutes of tentative exploring to reach the center of the maze.

Smokes tiptoed to the wall cornering the source of light, growing quiet as she started hearing voices. She could hear multiple men, at least five or six, speaking a language she couldn’t properly identify but that did not sound like English. She took a few steps closer, trying to hear better.

“Schieben Sie das Geld dorthin!”

She cursed. It was German. For fuck’s sake, out of all languages, why were they speaking the one language she did not know?

She inhaled deeply, praying to whatever God was watching over her, and peeked her head over the side of the wall ever so slightly. Her eyes momentarily struggled with the blinding orange light but adjusted after barely a few moments. They widened slightly at the scene in front of her.

The light stemmed from an unusual portal: it sat in the middle of the small corridor, orange and yellow hues emanating from the spirals of the portal. Six men walked back and forth, tossing each other bags full of money until one of them hurled them into the portal. The portal was surrounded by bags and bags of money, as well as boxes containing junk she couldn’t distinguish from where she was standing.

Her mind was racing as she started putting the puzzle pieces together. Dick had been right: the bags of money definitely came from the bank robbery back in November. But where did the portal lead? Why had these men built it right under the retirement home, just a few streets away from the bank? Where were all of the bags going? And why had they waited all these months before moving the bags?

The questions were swirling in her mind all at once as she desperately tried to solve the mystery. She was so deep in thought she didn’t realize her grip on her flashlight had loosened, not until the object hit the floor with a loud metallic clang and rolled right towards the portal. Terror filled her entire being as the men stopped what they were doing, all of them staring at the small flashlight twirling on the floor. It stopped right at the feet of a lanky, blond man, who was staring at it with eyes shaped like saucers.

“Woher kommt die Taschenlampe?” He yelled at the others, kicking the flashlight away violently.

She cursed, retreating her head and laying against the wall, heart pounding forcefully in her chest as she felt the bile rising in her throat. Shit, shit, shit, shit. She had no clue what they were saying, but whatever it was, it was not good. They were going to come to investigate, and she wouldn’t even be able to run away because she couldn’t see anything without the light.

“Es ist jemand da! Durchsucht das Labyrinth!” Another man screamed, and she heard the exact moment the men dropped the money bags and scrambled towards her corridor.

Smokes was frozen in fear, unable to move or breathe. Her mind was blanking on her, unable to form any coherent thought as she heard the men’s footsteps gradually grow closer.

Oh god. She was going to die. She should have listened to Dick and stayed put. She was going to die, die, die, die-

Smokes yelped as a pair of strong arms grabbed onto her, pulling her swiftly behind another one of the maze’s walls. The mysterious figure dragged her into them, one strong arm draped around her body as their other hand came to cover her mouth. She was pulled taut against the stranger’s strong, warm body and she could feel their chest rising up and down, their breath fanning her ear. She started panicking, thrashing in an attempt to break free from the stranger’s grip, but they did not let go. The stranger bent to her ear to whisper.

“Keep quiet, little bird.”

She froze. The voice… it sounded just like Dick. But that was impossible.

All it took was one glance at the stranger’s arm draped around her, keeping her in place and snug against them for her to realize her mistake. The blue and black spandex suit gave him away instantly.

It was Nightwing.

She stopped fighting him, going lax in his arms and glancing up. In the dark, she could only vaguely make out his strong jawline and the black and white domino mask. His gaze was focused on the maze corridor where she’d been previously standing, and where the German men were now running through. She rested her head on his chest, holding her breath as she listened to his heartbeat. Its pace was relentless; despite the total confidence in his movements, he must have been just as worried as she was. His body felt warm, his grip reassuring; the spandex suit was surprisingly soft.

They watched as the German men disappeared down another path, Nightwing never letting go of her as he waited a few more seconds to make sure they were really gone.

Finally, after a few moments of complete silence, he bent down again, lips brushing against her ear.

“You’re really shit at following orders, little bird, aren’t you?”

Chapter Text

Did that woman have a fucking death wish? That was the only coherent thought Dick’s mind could form, echoing again and again and again in his brain as he started sprinting.

Dick’s heart was pounding in his chest as he ran up the stairs of the secret passage, bursting into Cara’s living room and running out the front door, shooting a quick “Everything’s ok! I’ll be back soon!” at the confused old woman.

He needed to change into his Nightwing suit, and he needed to do it fast and away from prying eyes. He knew Smokes, and he didn’t believe for a single second that she would stay put and wait for him. She would explore the labyrinth and somehow get herself into trouble, as usual. She was absurdly - and distressingly so - good at getting herself in life-threatening situations for a civilian. To say he was baffled was an understatement: he’d never seen a single person have such a streak of bad luck, and he knew most of the world’s superheroes for heaven’s sake, he knew all about bad luck.

He’d felt his heart physically stop beating in his chest when Smokes had taken the first step into the maze, foot sinking right onto a booby trap. His body had almost frozen in horror when he’d seen the wall rising under her, threatening to crush her against the ceiling, and only years of reflex and drilled instincts had willed him to move and push her out of the way.

And then there had been the agonizing five minutes during which he’d pounded onto the wall, knuckles covered with more and more blood with each strike, and hadn’t stopped calling her name until her voice had finally finally answered.

He’d never been more relieved in his life.

That woman… drove him absolutely mad. Every time he thought of her, his brain conjured a ball of tangled, messy feelings, and he felt his stomach bottom out whenever she touched him with her soft, warm hands. He was starting to suspect he would have to delve deeper into these feelings, sooner or later.

But now wasn’t the time for that. No, now was the time to become Nightwing and rush to save her ass before she got herself into even more trouble (if that was even humanly possible).

He reached the end of the street and came to a halt, head turning left and right as he scouted for a hidden spot to change into his suit. He could have changed in one of Cara’s many bedrooms, but if he’d gone up as Dick and come down as the vigilante, he was fairly certain the old woman would have put two and two together about his secret identity, and that was not a risk he was willing to take.

His Christmas Eve conversation with Artemis briefly flashed in his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. He was still mad at what the blonde had said and implied, and they hadn’t spoken to each other since then. But, again, this was not the moment to wonder how he would persuade the Justice League to give Smokes sufficient clearance to tell her about his secret identity.

He surveyed his surroundings: most streets were filled with rows of cottage-like, nearly identical houses belonging to the residents. A supermarket, a cafe, and a small newspaper shop were also present in the neighborhood, but they were too far to consider changing into his suit there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed three neatly aligned garbage dumpsters, with overflowing trash bags surrounding them. They were pushed against a metal grid, and the row seemingly continued into a small brick alley.

This wasn’t the worst spot he’d had to change into his Nightwing suit. The smell would probably take a few days to wash off, and Tim and Jason would make fun of him during patrols, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

Dick dashed towards the empty alley, furtively glancing behind him to make sure nobody was watching him. The street was empty, most of the residents still taking their late afternoon naps.

He turned around the corner, exhaling sharply, and extracted his suit from his pocket. His suit was stored in a tiny black and blue technological button, which looked like an ordinary keychain to anybody else. Tim had come up with the system years ago, and it had made changing into the suit drastically easier: all it took was placing the button on his chest, and his suit broke free and slipped onto his body.

Just as he was about to place the button on his chest, his phone started ringing ear-splittingly in the back pocket of his jeans. Dick cursed, startled, and dropped the button in the process: the object went rolling on the ground and landed right into one of the overflowing trash bags. Dick cursed louder, sinking to the floor to fish for his suit while he clumsily extracted his phone from his pocket. The screen displayed the name Raquel.

He brought the phone to his ear. “Raquel, this better be urgent, because I’m in the middle of something here.”

“Well, hello to you too, Dick. How are you? How was your day? What’s up? Those would have all been better greetings. I hope you have a notepad to write down my suggestions because your manners are seriously lacking.” The woman’s sarcastic voice boomed from the other side of the line, causing him to crack a smile despite being in the middle of fishing for the button in the stinky bag. His hand touched something sticky and gooey, and he did his best not to gag.

“Sorry, Raq, I’m just… literally in the middle of something. I need to save someone, and I’m kind of in a rush, and the universe is not working with me right now.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“If paradise is a reeking trash bag with weeks-old disgusting leftovers, then yes, there is indeed trouble in paradise.”

“Oof. Rough. Some days are like that.”

“Tell me about it.” He huffed. He’d reached the bottom of the bag and still hadn’t found the button, and he was starting to grow impatient. “Anyways, what’s up?”

“Ah, yes, I was about to tell you. You’re investigating the- wait, Amistad, no, not there honey! That’s the presents table!” He heard the woman shuffling around, heaving as she moved things around. “Sorry, it’s Amistad’s birthday today and he insisted on organizing a party, so it’s been a mess over here the whole day.”

“Oh my god, I completely forgot, give him my birthday wishes! He’s turning 12 this year, right?”

Raquel and Amistad had moved to Gotham a few years back, when she’d stopped being a full-time vigilante and started working at Bowhunter Security’s Gotham site; since then, Dick had made sure to never miss one of his birthdays and had done his best to be a loving uncle to the kid.

“That’s ok, I know you’ve been busy. And yeah, 12, can you believe it? Feels like yesterday that he was just a baby. We’re getting old, I suppose.” She sighed, growing pensive for a few seconds. She eventually cleared her throat. “Anyways, back to business. You’re investigating the retirement home complaints, right?”

“Yes, I am. Did you talk with Tim?”

“Yes, he brought me up to speed. I called him first because I thought he was the one working on it, but he told me it was you and… your glorified chauffeur?” Her voice sounded unsure as she repeated what she’d been told.

Dick sighed, pouring out the contents of the trash bag and desperately looking for the button. “Long story. Tim dumped the work on me to have phone sex with Cassie.”

“Oooh, is that why he sounded so out of breath when I called him?”

“Probably. Anyways, what do you have for me?” He nearly vomited when he spotted a used denture covered in mayonnaise.

“I know it may sound crazy, but I think there’s a boom tube labyrinth under the retirement home. My belt is picking up insane boom particle activity from a layer under the surface, which I was confused about at first, and the particles are all arranged weirdly. I was stumped for a while, but I finally put it together: the particles form a maze. Amistad noticed, actually. He asked me why I was playing a children’s game and that’s when it clicked. Anyways, the point is, someone built a boom tube labyrinth and I don’t know why.”

Dick froze, momentarily stopping his desperate search. “The maze is made out of boom particles?”

“You’ve already found the maze?”

“I- yes, that’s why I’m in a rush, actually. Smokes is stuck in there right now and I need to get there before she decides to play vigilante and try to save the neighborhood.” He spotted a black and blue item glinting in the daylight and almost cried from relief, scrambling through the molding banana peels and deteriorated fish skin to grab it.

Raquel snorted. “You mean before she decides to do exactly what you’ll do when you get there?”

“Yes, except I’m trained to do it. She’s just a civilian.”

“A civilian you brought along on a potentially life-threatening investigation?”

“Can we just- not discuss the moral implications of my job and her job right now? Please?” He almost screamed Victory! when his hands finally landed on his suit-button. It was covered with a suspicious layer of… something, but he didn’t have the time - nor the desire, to be honest - to figure out what it was.

“Right, ok, you go save your girl. Dozens of kids are going to swarm my place anytime soon anyways.” She paused, seemingly glancing at her watch. “Hey, we invited everyone to come at 5, but it’s 4:45 and nobody has shown up yet. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Dick chuckled, placing the button on his chest: his suit unfurled onto him instantly. “Do I think it’s weird that nobody has shown up 15 minutes in advance?”

“Ok, boy wonder, no need to be a smartass, I get it. I’m just being anxious.”

“Just relax and have fun with Amistad.” Despite his worry for Smokes, his voice was soothing and genuinely reassuring. He reached for the grapple gun in his utility belt and pointed towards one of the furthest houses, swinging in the air as he hopped from roof to roof. He hoped he’d be quick enough to save Smokes from whatever trouble she was getting into.

“Thanks. Good luck with your rescue operation.”

“Talk to you later. Nightwing out.”

Dick swayed from house to house, rushing towards Cora’s cottage. People had started crowding the streets, small kids walking with their grandparents and pointing at him with bright eyes and small shrieks. Usually, he took the time to stop and greet the children, but he didn’t have time for that: not when he didn’t know what had happened to Smokes.

He finally reached Cora’s house, hurtling himself through the front door and down the secret passage, ignoring the way the old woman screamed at the sight of him. He’d never been a hit with the elderly.

“Smokes?” He called when he reached the entrance to the maze, the wall still standing tall and proud, the orange light flickering in the distance. He promptly shut his mouth when he realized his mistake: if she heard his voice and then saw Nightwing, she would figure out everything. And while he desperately wanted to tell her, now wasn’t the time.

He circled the labyrinth, leaping atop another one of the walls. From his position, he could see the whole labyrinth, including the abnormal light, which wasn’t a light at all but rather an open boom tube. From this distance, he could only make out shadows of men moving back and forth, tossing something into the tube. What were they throwing in there? And where did the tube lead? Those were questions he’d have to answer soon.

But not now. No, his sole focus was getting Smokes to safety. Perhaps he could whisk her away to another abandoned rooftop and let her marinate there while he took care of this business. It was a tad rude - and perhaps a bit cheeky - but it was the safest option for her.

He dashed atop the labyrinth walls, jumping back and forth until he finally reached the entrance. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the space, face hardening and frown deepening.

Smokes wasn’t there.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

He was going to kill her. Once he made sure she was safe and unscathed and untouched, he was going to murder her.

Those were the only thoughts running through his mind as he leapfrogged from wall to wall, toward the open boom tube. That, and God, please let her be ok. Let her be safe.

Because if anything happened to Smokes because of him… he would never be able to live with himself. She had quickly become his everything, turning bleak days and redundant investigations into moments filled with laughter and joy and… more. That ‘more’ terrified him. He was torn between wanting to barrel towards it or run away from it. The ‘more’ that Artemis had been talking about, and that he’d been diligently denying for the past months because what else could he do?

Smokes wasn’t running to him: she was running away from something, and he just so happened to be in the way. He had no illusions that she would stay indefinitely: he knew she’d take off one day, to go and become the great woman she already was and deserved to be. His heart squeezed in his chest, shattering little by little as he thought of the day she’d eventually leave. Leave Gotham, leave the job, leave him. And he didn’t know why his heart was wrecked at the idea.

Or, well, he knew. He suspected. He just… he couldn’t. Not when he was actively lying to her, not when she was so vulnerable, not when she didn’t feel half of the things he felt every day.

He came to a halt when he finally reached the boom tube, crouching on the wall to its left as he inspected the situation. He counted six men throwing bags full of money at each other and right into the tube, screaming words in a language he didn’t understand. Markovian? No, their words sounded too rough to be Markovian. His eyes raked over the scene: apart from the bags and boxes filled with junk, Dick couldn’t discern any prisoners.

He sighed in relief. Well, at least Smokes hadn’t run into them yet. He still had time to haul her cute, stubborn ass out of here and give her an earful.

The deafening sound of a metallic clang interrupted his train of thought, his eyes instantly landing on the object rolling towards the men. He couldn’t stop them from widening in horror, body going tense with terror, when he recognized the object lurching at them: it was a flashlight. More specifically, Smokes’ flashlight.

His eyes flew across the room, raking every passage and wall to find where the woman might have been hiding. He needed to find her before the not-Markovian men did. They were already screaming things at each other in their language, probably having realized that somebody was there with them.

He briefly sagged with relief when his eyes finally landed on Smokes’ figure: she was hiding behind the wall right in front of the boom tube, eyes shut and fists clenched, probably freaking out over what had just happened. One of the men screamed something else, and they all dropped their bags and started scrambling away from the boom tube, right towards Smokes’ wall.

Instincts kicked in right away: in one fell swoop, Dick swung down from his wall towards her. He grabbed onto her arm, pulling her behind another one of the maze’s walls, and dragged her into him. He draped one of his arms over her body, pulling her taut against him as she started thrashing wildly. He cursed when she nearly yelped, putting a hand over her mouth to hopefully keep her quiet.

That only worsened her panic, and she started flailing against him harder, wiggling her ass right onto… shit. He suppressed a groan. This was not the time. He needed to stop her before she gave their position away.

He bent down slightly, lips dropping to her ear as he hushed: “Keep quiet, little bird.”. He knew he was taking a risk, speaking to her when she couldn’t see he was Nightwing. If she put two and two together, and figured it all out… all hell would break loose. But he didn’t have a choice, not when she was desperately trying to elbow him, ass rubbing right onto his groin.

God, he needed to get a hold of himself.

His words seemed to have the desired effect, Smokes freezing in his arms at his command. Had she figured it all out? Dick didn’t know how she would react if she had, and he needed to prepare himself for it.

He watched as she looked at the arm holding her tight against him, eyes widening at the black and blue before she glanced back up. Ok, so she hadn’t figured it out then. Good. She stopped fighting him, going lax in his arms and glancing up. Dick took the opportunity to turn his head and get a better look at the six criminals. They were now running past them, right through the alley where Smokes had been standing just seconds before. They knew someone was there, and they were going to-

Dick froze when Smokes rested her head on his chest, mind going blank. All he could feel was the sound of his heart thumping against the rib cage. Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump. He could see and smell and feel everything: the heat radiating from her body, her ragged breaths under his hand, her chest rising up and down with terror, her ass pressed right into him. Shit.

He exhaled sharply, eyes riveted on the men running away from them. He tightened his grip on Smokes ever so slightly, holding her as close as humanly possible as he waited a few beats to make sure the men were gone.

The maze was silent, the sound of footsteps growing more and more distant with each passing second. The shouts of the criminals became far-flung sounds, gradually disappearing as the men ran too far away for them to hear.

Finally, after a few moments of complete silence, he bent down again, lips brushing against her ear. “You’re really shit at following orders, little bird, aren’t you?”

Dick felt Smokes shiver once against him, before abruptly breaking free from his grasp. He let her step away, his body suddenly feeling frigid without the warmth of her body snuggled against his, laughing slightly as he took note of her red cheeks.

“Do not call me little bird.” She squeaked when she turned around to face him, blushing furiously. She’d put a good three-foot distance between them, and the sudden gap between them physically hurt. He just wanted to drag her back into him and whisk her away to safety.

And he would. Once she was done glaring at him like that. Was it bad he found her glare endearing? Probably.

“I figured Smokes and Maverick were oversaturated and that you would appreciate a new nickname. Unless you’d prefer I used your real name?” He enunciated her name slowly, smirking as her nostrils flared in anger, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

“No. Just- don’t call me. What are you even doing here?”

His face hardened again, and he suddenly remembered how mad he was at her for disobeying his orders. “What am I doing here? Unlike you, I’m here to do my job. I’m here to save your cute little ass from getting killed by the angry, evil Markovians.”

“Germans.”

He paused, eyebrows shooting up. “Excuse me?”

“The men were German. Not Markovian.”

He blew a raspberry. “Ok, then, Miss Worldwide, what were they saying?”

She grew crimson again. “I don’t know. I don’t speak German.”

“Ha!” He started laughing, hand over his stomach. “Seven languages and the perps just so happen to speak a language you don’t understand!”

Dick could practically see the steam coming out of her ears as she stepped forward to smack his arm. He didn’t try to step aside, thankful for the brief contact between them.

“You’re rude. I thought vigilantes were nicer than this, but I must have been wrong.” She hissed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot on the floor. Despite being half an inch shorter than he was, she was staring down at him. God, this woman was full of confidence and gall.

“I’m one of a kind, little bird.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes in response.

“Where’s Dick?”

“Safe. He called for backup, so he’s dealing with that. He was worried about you, but I told him to stay put because he’s a civilian.” He spat the last words, eyes narrowing at her again. He was mad. He couldn’t let her distract him with her adorable red cheeks and charming anger. He was mad, and he was going to let have a piece of his mind.

His eyes raked over her body, mentally checking she was safe and sound. His breath stopped short when they landed on her right knee. Her bloody right knee.

He felt his anger flaring, his whole body tensing at the sight.

“You’re hurt.” He stated, voice dripping outrage.

Smokes blinked, eyebrows furrowed at him. It took her a few beats to realize what he was talking about, and she briefly glanced at her knee. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. I just scraped my knee.”

“You told m-” He had to pause, exhaling sharply as he gathered himself. “You told Dick that you were fine.”

“I am fine.” She insisted, but her voice wobbled, as if she’d sensed just how pissed off he was.

“You’re obviously not fine, since we’ve just established your knee is bleeding.”

“I just scraped my knee, it’s nothing, really. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

“Just how you forgot to stay fucking put when I- when Dick told you to stay put?”

Smokes remained silent, brown eyes boring into his black and white domino mask. He crossed his arms at her, jaw tense and Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Little bird, you are a civilian. I know Dick put you through boot camp, but your training is still just the bare minimum. You can’t do it all: there are some things you need to leave to the professionals.”

“Profesionals like you?” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, but Dick was having none of it.

He stepped closer to her, their heads mere inches apart. He bent down slightly, feeling her ragged breaths fanning his face. “Exactly. This is my job. I’ve been doing this for two decades. You need to stop throwing yourself face first into dangerous situations for your own safety. Did I make myself clear, little bird?”

Her nostrils flared again, and she did not once lower her eyes, meeting his hard stare. “Fine.” She eventually spat.

He wasn’t quite satisfied, but he’d make sure to give her another earful as Dick.

“Good. Now, let’s check out what these Germans were doing and disable the boom tube before they get back.”

He stepped away from her and walked towards the middle of the maze, where the boom tube was still flickering brightly at them and where the Germans had abandoned the bags of money in a hurry. He bent down to examine the bags, Smokes right on his tail.

“What’s a boom tube?”

“That.” He motioned his head towards the open end.

“You mean the portal?”

“Yeah. We call it a boom tube. It’s an interdimensional corridor.” He explained as he emptied the bag of its money, inspecting every stitch and pocket. This was the money from the retirement home robbery, that much was clear. But why had the perps hidden it right under their crime scene? And why had they waited so long to move their stolen goods?

And most importantly, where were they sending this money?

“Where does it lead?” She asked hovering over him.

He sighed. “No clue. It’s been continuously open for the past hour at least, so my guess is that it doesn’t go very far. Definitely still on earth. But as for where, I-” He stopped abruptly when his fingers brushed a depressingly familiar logo. His whole body froze as he turned the bag in his hand, his eyes finally landing on the unfortunately familiar emblem: twin swords clashing with one another, an orange and black ribbon tying them together.

“What? What is it?”

His lips pressed together. “This is Slade Wilson’s emblem.”

“Shit.” She cursed behind him, crouching to get a better look at it.

“Shit indeed.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing for what felt like the thousandth time of the day. If Wilson was involved, then this wasn’t just some run-of-the-mil robbery. This money was financing whatever mischief the Injustice League was up to, and that was not good. Especially when Smokes was still with him. He needed to get her somewhere safe and call for backup. “Ok, we need to go.”

He stood up, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the open boom tube. She didn’t resist his grasp, but instantly started protesting. “What? But what about the money and the Germans?”

“I’ll come back to take care of it. Or somebody else will.” He continued to walk away, dragging Smokes along. The woman, however, stopped, feet firmly planted on the ground as she stared at the boom tube behind him. He exhaled, nose pinched as he realized he would have to fight her on this too. “This is way too big for you and I to figure out on our own. We need backup, Batman and Red Hood- scratch that, I’ll probably have to call the entire Justice League and-”

“Nightwing.” She tried interrupting, but he didn’t have time to argument this.

“This is not up for debate, little bird, we need to get out of here and I need to bring you to safety before it all goes to shit and-”

“Nightwing.” She tried calling again.

“I know you’re shit with orders and authority, but for once in your life, I need you to trust me and listen to me when I say that-”

“Nightwing! Behind you!” She yelled.

It all happened in a blur: Dick barely had the time to turn around, taking in the gigantic, ten feet tall magic wolf standing behind them. He was baring his teeth at them, saliva dripping down its jaw and rabid red eyes staring hungrily at them before it came barreling towards them with a howl.

Chapter Text

Dick only had a split second to react.

It was mostly instincts controlling his movement when he grabbed Smokes and hurled them both across the room and on top of the boxes of junk, right as the wolf pounced on them. The ten-foot wolf had gained too much momentum, smashing right into the wall in front of which they’d been standing just instants earlier.

Smokes groaned under him, and Dick’s eyes instantly flew to her face. He’d landed on top of her, shielding her body with his own, and they were both lying down in the middle of random debris and clutter. The boxes had exploded under them, sending random items flying all around and kicking up a small cloud of dust. Smokes was coughing, hands feebly swatting the dust away from them. One quick assessment of her body revealed that she was ok, probably just a little dizzy from the fall, and Dick would have sagged in relief if it weren’t for the gigantic magical creature hunting them down.

He turned his head to get a better look at the wolf. The beast was huge, proudly standing at teen feet or taller, and looked completely delirious. Its red eyes were feverishly scanning the room, looking for them as it slowly regained its composure after crashing into the wall. Black saliva dripped down its jaws and in between its sharp teeth, bared at them with a growl. Shadows swirled around its body: whatever magic it possessed wasn’t natural, somebody must have enchanted the poor creature—maybe Klarion or Child.

But that didn’t matter, he could figure out where the wolf had come from later. The priority was to knock it out and get rid of it before it hurt Smokes.

“Stay fucking put!” Dick yelled at Smokes, jumping up from their position and charging towards the wolf.

Sensing his arrival, the wolf snarled, likewise dashing towards Dick. Nightwing nimbly hopped from one wall to another in two quick movements, using their surface as a trampoline to leap onto the wolf’s back. He somersaulted onto the creature, landing with a graceful thud as he grabbed its fur.

The wolf gave an inhuman screech, shadows growing darker and stronger around its body as it started to thrash around violently. Its howls were low and furious, paws scratching against the surface of the labyrinth and some of the money bags still lying about. Dick was barely holding on, trying to reach for his escrima sticks behind his back to neutralize the beast.

He finally managed to grab onto one of his sticks, his other hand clutching onto the creature’s white fur. He clicked on the stick’s opening mechanism, the baton unfurling to its full length, the taser edge crackling with electricity as he aimed for the wolf’s body.

The electric sparkles, however, only increased the wolf’s anger, and the black shadows flared, enveloping Dick entirely. Even with the night vision mask, he couldn’t see anything around him and was blinded. The beast continued flailing back and forth, jumping in circles, and Dick gave a small cry as he was hurled off of its back, his escrima stick flying in another direction in the process, a metallic clang echoing against the maze floor as it landed. Dick landed on his back with a groan, swiftly rolling onto his side when the wolf threw himself on top of him, pointy canines opening and closing around the air. Its teeth clattered loudly, and he had to suppress the shudder that went through his body.

The wolf’s mouth followed him as Dick leaped to his feet, avoiding its every bite with swift movements. It felt like a dance, his feet moving with grace and instinct, dodging the wolf’s every attack with each step. He reached for his other escrima stick, unwinding it open with one rapid flick of his hand, and he started hitting the wolf back. Or, well, attempting to hit it. The creature sidestepped most of his attacks, and when his baton did land on its fur, it didn’t seem to have much of an effect. He hadn’t managed to use the taser peak yet, and he hoped the magic hadn’t rendered him immune to tasing. He’d only barely had the time to call Tim and Jason for backup, and he had no clue how much time they would take to arrive. That, and the Germans had probably heard the wolf’s howls and were no doubt rushing back to the boom tube. It was only a matter of time before they arrived, and Dick didn’t know how he would handle both the six men and the wolf.

He somersaulted in the air, avoiding one of the wolf’s gigantic paws aimed at his chest, leaping onto his hands and then back onto his feet. He needed to find a better way to get rid of the wolf. The beast was still snarling and salivating at his sight, with no intentions of backing down whatsoever.

“Nightwing! Look out!” Smokes’ voice boomed throughout the room, momentarily distracting him as his eyes instinctively searched for hers.

She had sat up amidst the junk and debris, eyes widened in horror. Not for herself, he realized an instant too late, but for him. One of the wolf’s black shadows was flaring at his left, twisting in a long, elongated limb readying to sucker-punch him. There was nothing he could do as it hit him right on his chest, cutting his breath as he flew backward and lost hold of his escrima stick. Dick flew backward, his back smashing brutally against one of the walls of the maze; he couldn't contain the groan that left his body as he flopped on the ground, his ears ringing and his eyesight going fuzzy.

Despite his lowered senses, years of training willed him to quickly hop back onto his feet, barely avoiding another one of the wolf’s vicious attacks. He vaguely heard Smokes shouting something in the distance, but his head was still throbbing too hard for him to distinguish her words.

His steps were growing unsure as he did his best to evade the wolf’s attacks, trying to regain his senses as quickly as possible. The Germans were bound to come back, and Tim and Jason were nowhere to be seen, and-

“Nightwing!” Smokes’ voice roared, infinitely closer than before, followed right by a familiar crackle of electricity.

The wolf’s pained howl shook him out of his trance, and his gaze landed on Smokes panting figure in front of him. She’d somehow managed to gather his two escrima sticks and had even used one to tase the wolf. Their eyes met across the room, and the now familiar, confident glint in her eyes both terrified and impressed him.

This woman was absolutely fearless. Reckless, maybe, but mostly fearless and loving. More than she realized. He only wished she could see herself the way he saw her.

With a small, almost invisible nod, Smokes tossed him his escrima sticks. His head had cleared as he jumped to retrieve them, unfurling them once again as he saltoed onto the wolf’s back. The creature shrieked, but Dick didn’t give him time to retaliate: with three flicks of his wrist, he repeatedly pushed the taser into the animal’s skin, tightening his legs around its ribs as it continued thrashing.

All it took was another blow of his stick, electricity visibly coursing throughout the creature’s entire body, and the wolf finally gave its final, pained howl. Dick hopped off of its back with a backward somersault as the gigantic unconscious body slammed onto the floor with a loud thud. The magic wore off, and an instant later the wolf returned to its normal size. It was peacefully dozing off, blissfully unaware of what had happened, but its saliva was back to its normal color and its chest rose up and down normally.

“Well, he certainly put up a fight, now, didn’t he?” Dick teased, elegantly turning his batons in his hand, as he walked towards Smokes, who was standing on the sidelines at a safe distance from the fight.

She scoffed, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “You were this close to losing the fight. If I hadn’t given you your sticks-”

“-I would have found my way back to them, believe me.” He flashed a cocky grin, which only made her nostrils flare further.

“Are you always this arrogant?”

“Only when it comes to you, little bird. Have to earn my place at the top of your people you don’t like list.”

“Oh my god, Dick told you about that too? Is there anything you two don’t tell each other?” She raised her hands defeatedly in the air, making him laugh as he walked closer to her.

“Well, if you and I grow closer, little bird, I suppose there’s a couple of things I wouldn’t be sharing with Grayson.”

She rolled her eyes at his flirtatious tone. “Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, believe me, I will.” He winked at her unashamedly.

Smokes only glared in return.

Nightwing opened his mouth to add something else - namely, Let’s get you to safety little bird - when the six German men finally returned. They all arrived running, breathless as they stopped in front of the sleeping wolf. They inspected the scene, the money bags thrown around and the obliterated boxes of junk, and their gazes finally landed on their two intruders.

“Das sind sie! Schnappt sie euch!” The tall, lanky blond one shouted, and the rest of his companions roared affirmatively in response.

Dick sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders back and forth and making a show with his escrima sticks. “I have no clue what they just said, but something tells me it wasn’t very friendly.”

Smokes’ eyes widened, glancing back and forth between him and the perps. Her voice went up a notch as she started flailing her arms around. “Well? What are you waiting for? They’re charging right at us! Unless you need me to clean up your mess again?”

He smirked. “Oh, don’t fret, little bird, I’ve got this one covered.”

He winked at her again, before swiftly dashing towards the roaring men. Compared to the massive beast, the Germans were a walk in the park. All it took was agile movements and sidesteps, and a few graceful - thought somewhat showy, for he had an audience to impress - hits; within minutes, Dick had them all tied up in the middle of the room.

He turned back to face her, flashing her another one of his signature smiles. “See all the trouble I go through for you, little bird?”

Smokes crossed her arms again, tapping her foot lightly against the floor. Well, so much for impressing her.

“Tough audience tonight, huh, Nightwing?”

Dick turned at the familiar voice, delighted to see Red Hood and Red Robin emerge from the shadows, weapons in hands. They both took in the scene, Tim eyeing the open boom tube with particular interest.

“What can I say, little bird’s a tough nut to crack.” He shrugged with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and he could have sworn Smokes muttered Do not call me little bird under her breath.

Jason tsked, still intent on teasing. “Well, would you look at that, you called us all the way over here, and yet you didn’t leave a single perp for us to fight.”

“I’m just too efficient, and you guys are too slow. Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to have your hands full with this boom tube.”

“That we are,” Tim muttered, still studying the open tube. A realization suddenly hit him, and he narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Wait, we? What about you? You’re not going to clean up your mess?”

“Afraid not, I’ve got to take little bird back to her boss.” Her cute groan behind him only widened his smile.

Red Robin and Red Hood glanced at each other, lightly smirking, before returning their attention to Dick. “Ah, yes, her boss must be dying to see her again.”

“I’m sure he is. But, lest I be rude, let’s introduce you before we take off, shall we?” Dick turned to Smokes, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her forward. “Little bird, these two are my acolytes, Red Robin and Red Hood. Of course, they aren’t as charming or efficient as I am-” Hey! Tim and Jason protested simultaneously, and Smokes cracked a smile that practically lit his body on fire, “- but they still get the job done.”

“Hello.” She waved awkwardly, fiddling with her fingers, Dick’s heart squeezing at the sight. She was rarely so flustered around him.

“Don’t believe him, we are ten times more efficient than he is.” Tim declared, glaring at Nightwing.

“His ego’s just big because he’s full of shit,” Jason added, distractedly picking his nails.

Smokes nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry, I don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”

“Little bird!” He feigned a shocked, dramatic gasp, while Tim and Jason snickered.

“Right, well, don’t you worry about us. The big bat is on his way, so we’ll clean this up with him. You take the lady back to the real world.” Tim said as he crouched to inspect the sleeping wolf.

Dick finally allowed his body to relax, knowing Tim and Jason had it covered. He turned his head to Smokes, surprised to find her brown eyes already studying him. He gave her a sincere, bashful smile. “You heard that, little bird? Time for us to skedaddle out of here.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Half an hour later, Nightwing and Smokes were sitting on the roof of a cottage-like house, watching the scene unfolding beneath them. Batman, true to his word, had arrived, along with other Justice Leaguers and some Gotham Police Department representatives. Among them was James Gordon, the commissioner - and most importantly, his ex’s father.

Dick had dutifully avoided the intimidating man after his breakup with Barbara. She’d let him understand her father wasn’t his biggest fan (which, truly, he understood, given he’d dated his daughter for five years that had ultimately amounted to absolutely nothing) and had suggested staying low for a while. Even these days, years after everything had gone down, the old commissioner still held a grudge. He couldn’t exactly blame the man either.

Smokes was sitting quietly, legs propped up against her chest and head resting on her knees as she surveyed the constant influx of new people arriving. She was biting her lip pensively, and Nightwing knew her well enough to know something was bothering her.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” He asked after a few more minutes of silence.

A soft breeze picked up, gently swaying Smokes’ brown hair. The sun was setting behind her, and Dick couldn’t help but think the woman had never looked more ethereal. She turned to look at him, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. “I just… you said Dick was safe, right?”

His heart clenched as he realized she was just worried about him. He smiled softly, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers. “Yes, Dick is safe, don’t you worry.”

“Right… then where is he?”

Yeah. He hadn’t exactly found an opportunity to sneak off and remove his suit yet. He’d been planning to - momentarily, mind you - abandon Smokes on this roof, but then she’d sat down and gone quiet and he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to stay with her like this - as Nightwing - for a little longer.

“He’s probably just discussing with some of the officers inside the houses.” Seeing her crestfallen face, he gently booped her nose. “Well don’t make that face, little bird. He’s safe, I promise.”

Smokes hummed non-committedly, though he could read in her eyes she wasn’t entirely convinced. Her reaction made him pause. She really was worried about him, it seemed, looking all sad and panicked for him like that. It made his stomach bottom out in a way that felt both familiar and terrifying.

“You really care about him, huh?” He eventually asked in a quiet voice, breath caught in his throat as he awaited her reply.

Smokes blinked at him like he was stupid. “Of course I do. He’s my friend.”

Friend.

The word both warmed his heart and chilled it. He should have been happy about her calling him her friend; it was, without a doubt, an improvement from boss and fake boss. And yet… an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, fluttering agonizingly as the word echoed throughout his mind.

Friend.

Why did the term not satisfy him?

“Come on,” He let out, nudging her and standing up. “I’ll bring you back down. I’m sure Dick will show up soon.”

Smokes grumbled a curse under her breath when she realized he’d have to carry her down in his arms, which made him laugh and further aggravated her glare. She let him pick her up nonetheless, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding onto him with her eyes squeezed shut as he swung onto the street. His throat bobbed, muscles stilling with tension, and he tried not to think about all the places their bodies were touching as he swung down.

He landed softly, not wanting to spook her further, and slowly set her down on the ground. Smokes finally opened her eyes, tilting her head to look up at him with her big brown eyes. She was inspecting him, he realized, and it felt like she was seeing right through him. It felt like she could see him, through the mask and suit and all of the facade. Like she could see his soul.

The realization should have sent him running, terrified him to the ends of the earth.

But for some weird, fucked up reason, it didn’t.

No, what did send him running, however, was the sight of multiple police officers running towards him, handcuffs in hand. Vigilantes had never been a hit with the police department, and Dick suspected that wouldn’t change anytime soon.

“Gotta dash, little bird. Stay out of trouble, yeah?”

Smokes nodded quietly, eyes still glued to his figure as he reached for the grapple gun in his utility belt, and pointed towards one of the furthest houses, swinging away from the scene and laughing as the police officers cursed at his escape.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Ten minutes later, Dick jogged back towards the bustling scene - now demarcated by bright yellow police tape - in his civilian clothes, and was relieved to find Smokes idly wandering around, seemingly looking for something. Or, someone.

“Smokes!” He called as he neared. Her head instantly whipped up, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on him. The brightest smile he’d ever seen appeared on her face, eyes crinkling in delight as she pushed her way through the swarm of police officers and trotted toward him.

“Dick!” She exclaimed happily when she finally reached him, standing only a few feet away. She looked like she wanted to throw her arms around his neck, but stopped at the last moment. Dick wanted to pull her in as well, but hesitated at her indecision. Was it appropriate? Could he hug her? Why was he overthinking everything? “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“Sorry, Smokes, I was called in to give my statement, which took longer than anticipated. I came looking for you as soon as they let me go.” His eyes lowered to her knee, his gaze hardening for a split second. “You hurt your knee.”

“No need to lecture me, Dildo, your buddy Nightwing already chastised me for lying to you. And besides, I went to get my knee bandaged at the paramedics' table over there, see?” She awkwardly tried to raise her leg to show off the shiny white bandaid resting on her knee, hopping on one foot and almost falling over in the process.

Dick could only laugh as his arms flew to her figure, holding her from tumbling onto the ground. Her cheeks lightly warmed at his touch. “Ok, ok. You got it bandaged. But still, please, for the sake of my ‘old man’ heart, stop-”

“-running into dangerous life-threatening mazes and throwing myself into danger face-first. I know.” She rolled her eyes, but a playful smile danced on her lips. “I told you, Arrogant-Wing thoroughly lectured me. I’ve learned my lesson, scout’s honor.”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Arrogant-Wing?”

“He’s quite rude, don’t you think?” Her pout only made him laugh harder.

“I’ll make sure to let him know.” He smirked while she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, he knows exactly what I think about him.”

He snorted. “Come on, let’s head home. Our work is done for the day.”

For once in her life, Smokes didn’t protest and agreed with him, joyfully skipping to the car while he laughed. She filled him in on everything that had happened once he’d left her in the maze, and Dick did his best to act surprised and stunned - despite having gone through everything with her as Nightwing. He did notice that Smokes downplayed the dangers they’d faced, failing to mention important details such as the size of the wolf or the fact it was enchanted. She didn’t mention how she’d helped Nightwing get his batons back either, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was playing everything down so that he wouldn’t worry about her.

If only she knew he knew everything. She’d be pretty pissed at him for this charade, no doubt.

He sighed, looking out the window. Smokes was chirpily driving him home, Gotham’s streets surprisingly empty despite it being rush hour. The night had settled onto the city, but something had shifted in the air, and every Gothamite could feel the days growing longer. He’d need to speak with Bruce about Smokes’ clearance soon. She couldn’t be kept in the dark forever, despite what Artemis had said on Christmas Eve. Dick was hopeful that Bruce would agree with him: if he didn’t… Dick wasn’t entirely sure what he would do if that was the case.

The buzzing of his phone in his back pocket interrupted his reverie. He reached for the device and frowned as he read the name on display.

“Raquel?” He asked as he brought the phone to his ear, fearing the worst. Hadn’t this day already been long enough? The last thing he and Smokes needed was more trouble.

“Hi, Dick. I’m so sorry to bother you, I know you’ve had a rough day, but it’s just…” The woman sounded exhausted, her voice breathless and drained. Dick could hear the sound of wailing in the background.

He furrowed his eyebrows in concern, and Smokes glanced at him from the driver’s seat, mirroring his own worry. “Raq? Is everything ok? Is that Amistad crying?”

“Yeah, it’s…” She sighed. “None of the other kids showed up for his birthday party. We waited for 30 minutes, and nobody came, and Amistad’s been having a bit of a meltdown ever since. Noble’s trying to calm him down, with mixed results, as you can hear.”

“Oh my god, that’s awful. How did that even happen?”

“I honestly have no clue. I’ve tried calling the other parents, but I can’t seem to get in touch with any of them.”

“Shit, Raq, I’m so sorry. What can I do?” Every limb in Dick’s body screamed for rest, but they would have to wait a little longer. He could make an exception for Raquel and Amistad.

“I… can you just come? I’ve called everyone, and M’gann and Conner are on their way with Matt and John… Will and Lian too, and Clark and Lois with Johnny as well but… I just need to fill this party and make Amistad forget about the other kids.”

Smokes seemed to calm down ever so slightly when Dick answered. “Of course, Raq, I’m on my way. I’ll stop to get some presents, ok?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Oh, and can you maybe do something about the cake? I ordered a cake at the local supermarket, but it hasn’t arrived and I’m starting to suspect it never will.”

“Got ya. I’ll be quick, don’t worry. See you soon.”

“Oh, and… this is going to sound weird, but please don’t call Bruce and Damian. I’m half certain Amistad is terrified of Damian, and I don’t want to upset him.”

Dick couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. “Understandable. Don’t worry, Bruce has his hands full right now, so I don’t think he’d be available anyway. I’ll stop by a bakery to buy a cake and I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you so much, Dick. You’re a lifesaver.” Raquel’s voice sounded genuinely relieved when he hung up.

“What happened?” The words flew out of Smokes’ mouth as soon as the call ended.

Dick ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “That was my friend Raquel. Her son, Amistad, is turning twelve today and they organized a birthday party but none of the other kids showed up.”

“What? Oh my god, that’s awful!” She instantly exclaimed, lips turning downwards.

“Yeah, it is. Anyways, it’s an all-hands-on-deck type situation, so we’re all going to show up at the party and try to salvage the situation. M’gann, Conner, Will, and some other friends will come with their kids, and hopefully, that’ll be enough to cheer him up.”

“Right. We’re on cake duty, then?”

“Yup, we need to get cake and some presents, and… wait, hold on a second, we?” Dick shifted in his seat to look at Smokes. The latter looked completely unbothered.

“Duh. You think I’m just going to go home and do nothing when a kid is having his heart ripped out because nobody showed up at his party?” She scrunched her nose in disgust at the notion.

Dick blinked. God bless this selfless woman.“I just… you’ve had a long day.”

“So have you.” She quipped. “Besides, I have an idea for the cake.”

The mischievous smile she flashed him did nothing to reassure him, the pit in his stomach bottoming out yet again.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Smokes and Dick reached Raquel’s house less than an hour later, armed with gifts, a French cake, and multiple paper crowns. Smokes had taken Dick to a French bakery near her apartment - because American bread sucks, no offense - and the kind lady at the counter had quickly explained the concept of a galette des rois to him. Kids all around France ate this cake throughout the month of January, each tart containing a tiny, porcelain figurine. Whoever found the figurine was crowned king or queen, and it was a huge family-wide game. Dick had then tried to pronounce the words in French, apparently butchering the language violently by the way both Smokes and the lady were giggling uncontrollably

Smokes had also asked for extra figurines, so that each kid could have their own and nobody would feel left out. Smart girl.

“I used to eat them all the time as a child. My little brother would hide under the table and distribute the parts, and we’d all cheat to make sure he got the figurine.” She’d revealed with a wistful smile on her lips, and Dick’s heart had warmed in an undescribable manner at her happiness. (Also, he’d found out with dismay she had a brother, and would have to interrogate her about that soon.)

Raquel opened the door swiftly, face lighting up as she took them in. “Dick! And you must be Maverick! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you! Come on in, some people have already arrived, so things are picking up.”

Raquel wasn’t lying: the house was now a ruckus, the sound of children screaming and laughing filling every room. Lian was showing Amistad one of her new books, the two quiet kids getting along quite well, while Johnny Kent chased his cousins around the house, John and Matt screeching in ecstasy. M’gann and Lois were chatting by the presents’ table, now overflowing with packages of all colors and shapes, while Clark, Conner, Will, and Noble tried to round up the kids to organize a - very improvised - game of soccer.

“Happy birthday, Amistad!” Dick exclaimed loudly after carefully placing his gifts on the table.

As if on cue, all the children stopped what they were doing, eyes gleaming with delight as they took him in. “Uncle Dick!” they practically screamed in unison, rushing to throw themselves in his arms.

Dick could only laugh as he was quickly tackled to the ground, overpowered by the kids throwing themselves on top of him and showering him with kisses and hugs. He wanted to introduce Smokes to Clark and Lois, but was quickly roped into an intense game of tag, and thus lost track of her mere seconds after setting foot in the party. Luckily for him, M’gann went to greet her instead with a warm hug and took care of the introductions. He could only glance at them from time to time, the kids yelling in despair if he moved his attention from them for even just a second.

The game continued for half an hour, the kids squealing and jumping in excitement as they tugged onto Dick’s sleeve and dragged him around the house. He was relieved to see Amistad was in much better spirits, excitedly taking part in the conversation and happily teasing John and Matt. The kids were arguing about their next game, and Dick took the opportunity to catch a quick glimpse of Smokes. His face softened as he watched her cheerfully speak with Raquel, the two women setting up the cake table while M’gann and Lois moved the presents. He was relieved to see they were getting along well, Raquel engrossed in her explanation of the galette des rois.

It was only a few more minutes before Raquel shouted for the kids. “Kids! It’s cake time! And we have a surprise for you!”

All the children squeaked in delight, rushing to where the rest of the adults were standing around the table. Dick followed the kids slowly, standing a few feet away as he watched the scene with glee. Clark and Conner laughed when they saw them arrive, picking up their respective sons when they threw themselves in their arms. Lian stopped besides Will, letting her father put an arm around her and tug her closer to him.

Amistad finally approached the table, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the unusual cake. “What’s this?”

His mother smiled gently at him, drawing Smokes closer. “I’m so glad you asked! Amistad, this is our new friend, Maverick. She lived in France and this cake is really popular there. Why don’t you explain it to him, Mav?”

Smokes glanced back and forth between the mother and son, the boy staring up at her with big, curious eyes. Her face relaxed at that, and she crouched in front of him, gently smiling. “Have you ever heard of the galette des rois?”

The boy looked down, nervously looking at his feet. “Nope.”

“That’s ok! The galette is a really popular tart in France. It’s a special cake, because it contains a treasure!”

Amistad’s eyes shone at that, widening slightly. His awkwardness instantly vanished. “Really?”

Smokes nodded solemnly. “Yes. You see, the youngest kid hides under the table while your mum cuts the cake. They can’t see what she’s cutting, but they’ll assign a piece to each person. For example, the first piece goes to Amistad! The second goes to Lian! and so on and so forth. Once everybody has a piece, we all start eating. Whoever finds the treasure in the treasure gets to be crowned King or Queen for the day.”

Matt and John, who’d been listening to the story from their father’s arms, quickly wiggled their way out of his grasp and rushed to where Smokes and Amistad were standing. “Really? The treasure is in the cake?”

Smokes giggled, winking and nodding happily. “Yup. If you don’t believe me, why don’t we find out?”

“Yes!” The two boys shrieked, and Amistad also gave a quiet thumbs up, staring at Smokes with blushing cheeks.

Dick could only stare at the scene from a distance, eyes gleaming and smile dancing on his lips, too scared to burst the kids’ happy bubble. They were now all standing around Smokes, listening raptly at her galette stories from her childhood. God, this woman was perfect. Despite her initial hesitation, she was a natural with the children, cracking jokes to make them laugh and teasing them. Even Amistad, whom was normally shy around adults he didn’t know, seemed to melt in her presence, eagerly speaking with her and the other kids. She brought out the best in them, the same way she brought out the best in him and everyone around her. He briefly wondered how good she’d be with kids of her own; she’d be fantastic, helping them with homework when they’d get back from school and tucking them into bed after reading them stories.

Just briefly, though, because that was an insane thought to have, completely inappropriate for a boss to have, and it’s not like he was imagining their kids instead of her kids and-

“Wow, you really have it bad for her, huh?” Raquel’s voice startled him, making him jump slightly as he turned his head right and found the woman standing next to him.

“I- what?”

She motioned her head towards where Smokes was still crouching, her adorable giggles resonating throughout the room. “Maverick. You’re looking at her like she’s the sun. Tim told me you had it bad, but I didn’t realize it was this serious. She’s kind, I like her. We all like her, actually.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Huh… ok?”

Raquel stared at him for a moment, finally sighing and elbowing him gently. “I’m serious. I can tell how much you like her.”

Dick’s throat dried up instantly. “I… I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Yes, you do. Stop being so stubborn. I’ve never seen you being so lovey-dovey, not even with Barbara, and I honestly thought that was the pinnacle of lovey-dovey for you.”

Dick could only blink at his friend, heart thundering in his chest as his stomach squeezed and his mind rushed, putting the pieces together.

Raquel, unbothered, continued. “I’m just saying… She’s very sweet, and pretty, and nice… The kids love her. I really like her, and I think she’s good for you. I think you should go for it.”

Dick felt like he was about to throw up. Oh shit. Oh god. He turned to look at Smokes, whose smile was still lighting up the room. Oh god. He was an absolute idiot. How hadn’t he realized? From the first moment they’d met, when she’d called him out for his absence in the office and presented him the results of her little investigation, leaving him dumbfounded; he should’ve known. From the way he’d trusted her blindly, over and over and over again, despite not having any particular reasons or need to trust her; he should’ve known. From the way he’d yearned, longed for her to smile; from the way his heart had practically erupted in his chest when she’d finally smiled at him for the first time; he should’ve known.

Smokes was… she was everything. He knew that. He’d thought it multiple times. The idea of losing her terrified him, and he knew that if anything ever happened to her, he would tear apart heaven and hell to make things right. That was why the term friend would never satisfy him. Why he constantly wanted more of her, to touch her, hug her, talk to her, listen to her. Kiss her. Without her, he felt like a man stranded in the desert, waiting for a miraculous drop of water. Or, in his case, a cloud of smoke.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shit.

He was in love with Smokes.

Chapter Text

The warming late February sun shone through the car windows, illuminating Dick’s face and his bright blue eyes. Smokes glanced sideways at him; he was lightly tapping his fingers on the car door panel and humming quietly to Taylor Swift’s mirrorball playing on the radio. She’d recently taken the time to introduce him to her discography and explain her rerecordings, and he’d ended up liking quite a few songs.

It had been nearly a month since the labyrinth incident and Amistad’s birthday party, and Dick had been acting… odd, to say the least. Maybe Smokes was just imagining things, but his behavior just seemed off lately. He’d been sickly pale when she’d driven home from the party, insisting that it was probably just a stomach bug from all the food he’d eaten. He’d looked like a deer in the headlights the whole time, but despite her questioning, he’d refused to tell her what was truly going on. The rest of the week after that he had also been unusual, Dick tripping a surprising amount of times and being overall clumsy, tense, and babbling. Then the weekend had come, and on the following Monday morning, he’d returned to his usual gleeful, cheery self. He’d clearly dealt with whatever was bothering him, and Smokes didn’t know how to bring it up without seeming intrusive.

Still, something was wrong. She could feel it. Dick was strangely quiet and pensive, often zoning out and getting lost in thought, and she couldn’t figure out why . Sure, maybe he was just focused on their current investigation, which they’d dubbed The Wolf, the Germans, and the Boom Tube , and granted, it was a massive mess, but… she had a gut feeling it wasn’t about that.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She found herself asking him, which was once again odd because he was the one to normally interrupt her incessant overthinking.

Dick instantly turned to face her, a soft smile spreading across his face as his eyes landed on her. “Sorry. I zoned out for a second.”

More like for the past ten minutes. “Yeah, I could tell. Is something wrong?”

“Nah, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I was just… thinking about the investigation, that’s all.” He casually bounced his left leg up and down, and Smokes was willing to bet her life that he was lying. Still, she played along.

“Any updates?”

“Nothing yet.” 

After she’d left with Nightwing that day, Red Robin and Red Hood had stayed on the site to investigate. Unfortunately, that had yielded very little results. The boom tube had closed before they could figure out where it led, and the Germans refused to speak to them. There were so many unanswered questions: Where was the money going? Why had they waited all that time to move it? Where did the wolf come from? Neither Dick and Smokes nor Tim had managed to find any answers, making this the longest investigation they’d ever had.

They were currently driving to one of the Germans’ apartments - the tall, lanky one, who was seemingly their leader - to look for potential clues.

“To be fair, keeping the money right next to the bank they’d robbed wasn’t completely stupid.” Dick thought out loud. “Gotham PD spent weeks searching the city far and wide when it had been at the retirement home all along.” 

Smokes bit her lip thoughtfully. “Perhaps. Or, maybe, they knew they would only be giving the money to someone in January, and decided to keep it safely hidden until the exchange.”

“Yes, that’s also a possibility. But that brings us back to the original question: what is the money for? Were they buying something? And who was their seller?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The lack of clues left behind suggests the seller isn’t just some casual criminal. We’re probably dealing with some high-profile criminal organization.”

“And that worries you.” She completed.

“It does where you’re concerned.” 

She snorted, eyes on the road as she took a sharp right turn. “I can take care of myself, Dick.”

“That is precisely what worries me.” His voice wavered, giving her pause. She turned her head to face him, surprised to find his blue eyes burning right into her brown. “You’re always so set on doing things on your own, on being little Miss Independent and not asking for any help, and while that’s brave of you, I just… I wish you’d let me help you sometimes.”

She blinked, throat dry and ears ringing. He was still staring at her, gaze full of fervor and compassion, and the words died in her mouth. Her breathing was shallow as she turned her attention back to the road ahead, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her. What was she supposed to say when he was looking at her like that ? Like she was the most precious thing in the world, and all he wanted was to help?

“Listen, Smokes, I-” 

His sentence was interrupted by his phone ringing loudly throughout the car. Dick cursed, reaching for the device in his back pocket, and frowning when he read the name on the display.

Smokes laughed, the tension from the previous conversation withering away little by little. “Why do you always make that face when someone calls you?”

He blew a raspberry, but his lips twitched upwards. “When people call me, there’s a 99% chance they’re about to drag me into their troubles.”

“Now that I think about it, your phone calls always seem to bring bad news.”

“That they do. And this is Bruce, so I doubt it’s going to be anything good.”

Dick crouched forward, pressing a few buttons on the console and connecting his phone’s Bluetooth before accepting the call.

“Hey, B.”

“Good morning, Dick. You’re on your way to Maik Rausch’s apartment, yes?” Bruce Wayne’s rich baritone voice resonated around them. Smokes hadn’t seen the man since the office incident with Slade Wilson, and even then, she’d only exchanged a few words with him.

“Yup. We’re 10 minutes away. You’re on speaker by the way.”

“Ah. Right, well, don’t bother.”

Dick and Smokes glanced at each other, both frowning. “What do you mean, B?”

“The whole building just blew up.” Bruce let out a long sigh, exhaustion dripping in his tone. Smokes’ eyes widened as she swerved, abruptly parking the car on the side of the road while Dick’s face betrayed his shock.

“What? What do you mean the building just blew up ?” Dick exclaimed indignantly.

“I mean exactly that. I just got the call from James Gordon. 10 dead, and 5 unaccounted for. The firefighters are still trying to put out the fire. Whatever was in his apartment, someone did not want us to see it.”

The statement made Smokes pause. Why did Bruce Wayne have James Gordon, Gotham’s commissioner on speed dial? And why would James Gordon call Bruce about the explosion? More importantly, how in the world was Bruce Wayne involved in this mess? She’d always assumed Tim and Dick were the only ones investigating.

Dick cursed, throwing his head back against his seat and rubbing his eyes. “Well, shit. What do you want us to do? Should we go there and investigate anyway?”

“No, don’t bother. I have a few things for you that are more pressing. But it’s… ah, delicate, so I’d rather not do this over the phone.”

Understanding flashed across Dick’s features, some unspoken message passing between the two men. “Gotcha. Meet me at the Nest?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could stop by the manor. I have a bit of a… situation on my hands.”

Dick furrowed his eyebrows. “A situation?”

Bruce exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I-”

Just as he was about to speak, voices echoed from the other side of the line. “ Master Damian, please, the doctor specifically prescribed this for you, you need to drink this! ” someone called. A small, strident voice fiercely answered with “ The taste is unbearable, Pennyworth, and I won't be drinking it no matter what that incompetent man says! Who is he to determine what I am to drink or not to drink? I refuse to relinquish my free will to the antics of a barbaric, useless excuse of a man! ”. Smokes could barely hold in her laughter as the conversation continued,  the older voice saying “ Master Damian, try to be reasonable, this is for your own good! ” while the younger one responded with “ I despise the unrefined taste of the medicine, and I am feeling perfectly fine - you are all greatly exaggerating my fever. I henceforth firmly refuse to consume any of this!” .

Dick was folded in half, laughing heartily as he wiped away tears of glee. “Oh my god, Bruce, what in the world is going over there?”

The older man let out the longest, most exasperated sigh Smokes had ever heard. “Damian is down with a fever. He’s been sick for days, and refuses to admit it. He’s driving Alfred and I insane. I’m half certain Alfred wants to strangle him in his sleep.”

Though Smokes hadn’t had the chance to meet Damian Wayne yet, she’d heard and read plenty about him. He’d resurfaced around the same time as Jason, and the media had been in a months-long frenzy, trying to figure out who had mothered Bruce Wayne ‘Billionaire Playboy’ ’s son. Many women had come forward, claiming to be the lucky mother, but so far none had provided substantial proof. It remained one of Gotham’s biggest mysteries. Damian had been four at the time, but many years had passed since then. He must have been in elementary school by now.

Dick snorted. “Yes, I can see why. He sounds…”

“Feral? Whiny? Unbearable?” Bruce suggested, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I was going to say tiresome, but sure, those work too.”

Bruce groaned, and a small thud was heard across the line; Smokes guessed it was probably him banging his head on his desk. He sounded completely drained. “Yeah. Well. He started using words like henceforth . What kind of nine-year-old uses the word henceforth ?”

“I’m not even sure he’s using it correctly,” Smokes mumbled under her breath, sending Dick into another laughing fit.

“You shouldn’t have let him read all those Charles Dickens novels, B, I told you it would be bad for his brain.”

“I was just trying to teach him the importance of literature. I didn’t think he was going to devour them so quickly.” The man groaned, letting out another long and pained sigh. “Your brother, Jason, isn’t exactly helpful either. He’s been riling him up for days, and it feels like a civil war is about to implode any second.”

Dick smirked. “Right, ok, I get it. The family can barely keep it together without my charming, delightful presence.”

Bruce huffed. “Dick, that is not at all-”

“Don’t worry, B, we’ll be on our way. See you soon, old man.”

Dick hung up with a smile on his face. He turned his head towards Smokes. “Well, looks like we’re on babysitting duty today.”

She snorted. “Sounds like Bruce and Alfred need it. Should I enter Wayne Manor in the GPS, then?”

“Yup. Hold on, I’ll put in the address for you.”

Ten minutes later, the two of them were gleefully on their way, the busy Gotham streets progressively turning into countryside roads and green pastures. Wayne Manor was about 45 minutes outside of the city, and though Smokes had seen many pictures and heard a great deal about it from both Tim and Dick, she had yet to set foot in the place. Still, as she drove them there, a question kept nagging her.

It took her another five minutes to work up the courage to ask Dick about it.

“I didn’t realize Bruce helped you and Tim out during investigations.” She eventually settled on.

She watched as Dick’s body tensed for a split second, and it was so fast she thought she must have been imagining it. He looked otherwise unbothered as he replied. “Well, Bruce is quite well connected, so he helps out from time to time. Sometimes it’s easier to pull the Bruce Wayne is my father, please give me a moment of your time card rather than going through the usual motions.”

“Ah. And he has the commissioner on speed dial? I mean, I just find it a bit odd that Commissioner Gordon called Bruce about the building exploding like that.”

Dick winced. “Ah, well… Bruce and James have been friends for years. Crime isn’t good for business, and Wayne Entreprises is Gotham PD’s top donor.”

She sensed from his voice that there was more. “And…?”

Dick rubbed his neck sheepishly, cheeks tinted with a soft hue of red as he looked away. “And… I dated his daughter for a while.”

Her stomach squeezed uncomfortably, and she did her best to ignore the feeling and tease him instead. “Oh? A while? How long is a while in Dick Grayson's vocabulary?”

There was a small moment of silence. “Five years.”

Smokes’ throat dried up instantly, body stiffening and stomach bottoming out entirely with that aching feeling. Five years? Some woman had dated precious, adorable, kind, selfless Dick Grayson for five whole years and let him go? Dick was known to be a bit of a playboy, following right in his father’s footsteps, but five years… five years was a long time. Five years of being loved by Dick Grayson… Smokes knew him well enough to confidently say that whoever he ended up marrying would be one lucky girl. 

Dick looked like the kind of man who would be absolutely smitten with his girlfriend: he was probably the kind who remembered all their anniversaries, all the little things, and spontaneously brought lunch to his partner’s office just because he could . She had witnessed him being incredibly kind to strangers they encountered during their investigations—people he didn't know in the slightest but who he did everything in his power to help, even when they didn’t deserve it; she couldn’t begin to imagine the amount of love he poured onto those he cared about.

She willed her stomach to calm down, but her voice felt thick as she whistled. “Wow. Five years is more than a while, Dick.”

He shrugged. “Babara and I were young, and it was a long time ago. Sometimes things just don’t work out. And when Damian and Jason came back around, I wanted to focus on my family. That’s all there is to it. We’re still on good terms.”

Barbara. What kind of stupid name was that?

No. 

No. No. No. That was a very irrational thought to have. Dick clearly still cared for her, and who was she to judge his ex’s name anyways? What did it matter to her? It didn’t matter to her.

She cleared her throat. “Right. And I’m guessing the commissioner isn’t too pleased with you?”

Dick laughed. “Way to twist the knife in the wound. But spot on, James Gordon isn’t my… biggest fan, to put it lightly.”

The easy, familiar banter loosened her up, body relaxing. “Right. He’s probably read that one Gotham Times article about you being a dog.”

He huffed in response. “That was a vile article, and the figures were vastly exaggerated.”

Smokes could only giggle in response, while Dick grew flustered and started aggressively arguing why he was not , in fact, a dog.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

They reached Wayne Manor 40 minutes later, having been particularly unlucky with the traffic. Smokes’ eyes widened at the sight of the imposing mansion, jaw practically dropping as she drove the car up the massive driveway.

Wayne Manor was a colossal red brick estate, demarcated by an elegant black garden fence. The chateau stretched long and wide, with countless windows allowing glimpses of deftly furnished rooms. An impressive fountain crowned the front garden, standing right in front of the gray steps leading to the towering wooden doors. A vast stretch of land, with green hills and small streams, could be seen behind the house, adding to its splendor.

Dick watched her wonderment with amusement. “Impressed?”

“I forget you’re a billionaire sometimes.” She spoke quietly, eyes still blinking at the grandiosity of the place. Dick said nothing to that; his eyes had landed on a figure standing in front of the doors.

Smokes followed his gaze, face almost instantly lighting up as she recognized who it was. Despite never having met Alfred in person, she’d grown quite close to the butler. He’d been the one to hire her, to offer her this opportunity - and not hang up when she’d started sobbing on the phone. For a long time, Alfred had been her only friend in Gotham; the sweet, old man still called her once a month to catch up with her and make sure Dick was treating her right.

“You can park in front of the steps.” Dick pointed towards the cobblestone driveway, and Smokes didn’t need him to tell him twice. In two swift movements, she maneuvered the car in place and practically leaped out of it.

“Alfred!” She exclaimed happily as she dashed towards him.

Alfred was the face of composure, clad in a black suit with a red tie and standing tall with his hands behind his back, yet his eyes crinkled with delight when he saw her. “Miss Maverick. It is such a pleasure to meet you.”

Smokes climbed the stairs as quickly as she could and didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around his neck and hug him tightly. The butler let out a small oomph , stumbling backward, and for a second she worried she’d messed it all up; but then he chuckled, and hugged her back, and that worry quickly dissipated.

She pulled back, holding the old man’s surprisingly soft hands. “The pleasure is all mine. I can’t believe it took us nearly two years to finally meet in person.”

“Master Damian, Master Bruce, and Master Jason keep me quite busy, but I should have made more time for you, Miss Maverick.”

“Oh, nonsense, Alfred. If anything, I should have stopped by earlier. Or I should have bullied Dick into bringing me here.”

“Hey!” The latter protested, voice growing near as he ascended the stops. He stopped next to her, eyes suspiciously glancing back and forth between her and Alfred. “Am I… missing something here?”

Alfred clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes at him. “Master Dick! Have you forgone all your manners? You’re to greet people when you see them, especially the poor butler you tormented throughout your childhood.”

Smokes laughed, letting go of Alfed’s hands and turning to Dick. “Alfred hired me to be your ‘ glorified secretary ’. We call once a month to catch up.”

Dick looked floored at the revelation, jaw hanging wider than when she’d seen Wayne Manor. “Once a month?”

Alfred nodded solemnly. “Oh, absolutely. Miss Maverick is quite the storyteller. And you-” He smacked Dick’s head gently while the latter yelped. “-should not have abandoned her in the maze, with a vigilante as her only support!”

“Alfred!” Dick fake-gasped dramatically, and Smokes couldn’t contain her giggles. “Smokes! You’re supposed to be on my side, don’t laugh!”

The butler stared at the two of them bicking for a moment, a soft, knowing smile spreading across his face. He shook his head with a laugh. “Why don’t I take you to Master Bruce’s office?”

They followed Alfred inside the impressive foyer, adorned with luxurious paintings and soft, plush sofas. Smokes couldn’t keep up with the grandeur of her surroundings, eyes struggling to focus on one item and fleeting across the rooms. The butler led them down a long hallway to the east, maroon red curtains pulled to the side to let sunlight shine through the extensive verandas. Alfred and Dick were walking ahead, speaking and laughing, the older man inquiring about the youngster’s well-being and recent activities, but she only followed the conversation distractedly, too busy trying to absorb as many details as possible.

They eventually stopped in front of a set of cherry wood doors, Alfed knocking delicately before pushing them open with ease. He stopped by the door, extending an arm towards the office and motioning for them to walk in.

Bruce Wayne was sitting at his desk, papers scattered wildly on its surface, phone in hand and frown etched onto his face. His office was more mundane compared to the rest of the manor, consisting essentially of the big oak desk standing in the middle of the room and shelves filled to the brim with books behind him, slotted next to the large window illuminating the space. He looked up when they walked in, huffing a quick sigh of relief at their sight.

“Dick, Maverick. Come, sit down.” He called them, hanging up on whomever he was talking to and pointing to the two green leather seats positioned in front of his desk. Behind them, Alfred quietly left the room, closing the doors behind him.

They sat down, Dick comfortably sprawling onto his chair. “You look like shit, B.”

Smokes practically choked on her own saliva at the words, cheeks heating up as Bruce glared at his son. The man indeed looked like he’d had a rough night: his hair was disheveled, hair gel already having dried up - or maybe he’d forgotten to apply it in the first place. His suit jacket was draped on the back of his chair, and his shirt’s top buttons were open, sleeves rolled up. He certainly looked like he’d seen better days.

Bruce clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I’m aware, thank you. Any constructive criticism?”

Dick gave him a feline, shit-eating grin in response. “No. Just the one. How’s Dami holding up?”

Bruce threw his head back, gently massaging his temple. “Terrible. He still refuses to take the medicine, so recovery has been… slow.”

“He sounded quite… determined, over the phone.” Smokes dared cautiously, her comment making Dick chortle and Bruce smile thinly.

“That’s one way to put it. But you can look for Damian later, that’s not what I wanted to discuss.”

Dick’s smile faded. “Right. You said it was delicate, so I’m assuming it’s about the investigation.”

“It is. The Justice League finally managed to track down where the boom tube led.”

Dick and Smokes glanced at each other. The former spoke first. “Oh?”

Bruce grabbed a Gotham map from the stack of papers on his desk and turned it around for them, circling a small street in the northern part of the city. “Here. This building used to be an Oreo factory, but the company relocated due to Gotham’s increasing crime rates, which were hindering their business. They still have offices there, but the storehouse was unutilized. Or so they thought.”

Dick pulled the map closer to them, studying it attentively.“And that’s where the money went?”

“Yup. The place was already cleared out when the JL found it, but they missed a few dollar bills. We were able to track them back to the bank. And… they found more bags with Slade Wilson’s insignia on it.”

Dick cursed. “Shit.”

“Indeed. Wilson is up to no good. Whatever he’s doing, he’s not doing it alone. He has powerful allies, given how quickly they cleaned everything up. Not only that, but we did a bit of digging into Rausch, the ring leader, and you will never guess what came up.”

“I’m quaking in my boots, B,” Dick muttered under his breath, shooting Smokes a sly wink. She could only shake her head at his antics.

“Rausch is a part of Metahumans Rule Earth.”

Smokes’ eyebrows shot up. “MRE? The radical Markovian organization?” Bruce and Dick looked at her questioningly as she shrugged. “What? I lived in Markovia as a kid, my family keeps up with the news.”

“Right. Well, yes, Rausch and his buddies are active members of the organization. They disagree with the German government’s lack of support to Markovia’s project of a peaceful land for metahumans and joined the cause a few years ago.”

Dick frowned. “Isn’t MRE affiliated with the Markovian government?”

“Not technically. The crown and King Brion deny any involvement with the organization but… it’s highly unlikely they’re not at the very least in contact.” Smokes explained, the green-eyed man nodding.

“So… Rausch and the other Germans were buying something on behalf of MRE then?” Dick suggested.

Bruce acquiesced. “That’s the current theory. Given MRE’s history, they were probably trying to buy weapons from Wilson.”

“Or from some of his associates,” Dick added wryly.

Bruce and Dick exchanged a long, knowing look, filled with tacit understanding and hidden meaning. They were communicating in a secret language, relaying some unspoken message she could not unscramble.

This wasn’t the first time Smokes felt like she was missing something and being kept out of the loop on purpose. Tim and Dick always shared these looks, and something had been hanging in the air even at Artemis and Jason’s Christmas Eve party.

What was she not being told?

“Anyways, apart from that, I don’t have much else.” Bruce eventually broke the silence. “I just received a report from the fire department about the explosion. They determined the cause of the fire. Somebody doused the underground cellars in diesel and lit up a match. Everything points to it being intentional, though we already suspected it given the magnitude of the fire.”

“Rausch was hiding something big then,” Dick spoke pensively.

Bruce nodded. “Probably some way to communicate with Wilson’s clique or MRE. Or perhaps information on whatever they were buying.”

Smokes’ head was spinning from all the new information. This was a lot. MRE, Wilson, weapons, metahumans… why were they leading this investigation in the first place? Wasn’t this the Justice League’s responsibility? Unless…

“Dick, I actually have some Wayne Entreprises papers for you to look over and sign,” Bruce spoke after a little while, fishing through the mess on his desk.

Dick frowned. “You do?”

“Well, given that Maverick hasn’t been to the office in months and we never hired a new dummy secretary, your contracts have been piling up,” Bruce explained, and both Smokes and Dick had a hard time containing their snickering.  “I just need you to read them and sign them quickly. You can go look for Damian afterward. Hopefully your presence will calm him down.”

“Right. As if anything could calm down the little gremlin.” Dick turned to Smokes. “Do you mind going ahead while I sign these?”

Ah. So she was being dismissed then. Dick and Bruce probably wanted to discuss the investigation in private. Being brushed off like this stung a little, but she didn’t let it show on her face. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll go ahead.”

Dick shot her a grateful smile. “Thank you. Look for Alfred, he’ll take you to Dami. I’ll find you as soon as I’m done with this.”

“Right.” She stood up, giving the two men a small wave, and slipped outside of the office. Time to hunt for Alfred, then.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Alright, so perhaps Smokes had underestimated just how big Wayne Manor was. She’d been wandering around the various halls and guest salons for the past 20 minutes and had yet to find her way to the entrance hall. Or to Alfred.

The mansion was beautiful, albeit eerily quiet. She knew from Dick that apart from Damian, Jason was the only other Wayne child who still lived here. Dick had his apartment in Gotham, and Tim went back and forth between Gotham and Washington to spend time with Cassie. She’d figured two people would be enough to fill the house with chatter and laughter, but the house was probably just too big.

For some reason, her mind instantly went to Dick. Damian had Jason, but Dick… Dick had been a child, all alone in this gigantic maze. Her heart squeezed at the thought.

And then unsqueezed because what the fuck, that was ages ago and she had no business caring this much let alone feeling bad for her boss.

Smokes groaned as she reached another dead-end. It was the fifth dead-end she walked into, and she was growing tired of this ridiculously complicated layout. Heck, even the maze underneath the retirement home had been easier to crack than this.

She noticed a door on her right, and not knowing where to go anymore, decided to walk towards it. The door opened with an eerie, grating sound, sending a shiver down her spine as she peeked into the room. From the looks of it, it was a study, though it was far more grandiose and elegantly furnished than Bruce’s office. An oak antique table sat in the middle of it, and a painting of Bruce and his parents adorned the walls. Her attention, however, was instantly caught by the grandfather clock standing behind the desk. To say it was magnificent was an understatement.

She tiptoed her way to the clock, admiring its ancient carvings of flowers and branches. Her fingers brushed against the hands of the clock, and she frowned. The time displayed was 10:48, but it was almost noon according to her watch. She moved the hands to set the right time, and some mechanism snapped in the wall, echoing all through the room with a metallic clang . She jumped at the sound, stepping back and bumping into the old desk.

What had just happened? Was there something hidden behind the wall? And why-

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Chapter Text

Smokes jerked, startled, and let out a high-pitched squeak. She instantly whipped around, stumbling on her feet and bumping her head into the grandfather clock behind her. Cursing, her hands flew to her head to massage her scalp as her eyes landed on the figure standing before her.

The child standing in front of her was crossing his arms and frowning at her, green eyes narrowed at her in suspicion as he inspected her up and down. His face was lightly flushed though his skin was pale, jet-black hair disheveled, and he wore a button-up pajama set consisting of a red and yellow shirt and a green pair of pants. 

Shit. 30 seconds and she’d already cursed in front of a child .

Smokes let out a sigh of relief as she realized who it was. His resemblance to Bruce was uncanny.

“Oh, hi. You must be Damian, right?” She attempted, nervously playing with her hands.

The boy didn’t respond, eyes narrowing further and foot tapping on the floor. “You’re not a criminal.” He eventually let out.

She blinked at him. “I- why would I be a criminal?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? This is Wayne Manor, there are a considerable amount of valuable items to be stolen. But you look too…” He gestured his hand up and down at her.

“I look what ?” She glared at him.

“Too… dainty to be a criminal.”

Her jaw dropped. Dainty? Was this a nice way to tell her she looked too dumb to be a criminal? Was he serious? Dick had warned her he was quite the child, but this…

“Dainty?” She sputtered indignantly. “I’m not dainty! I could be a criminal!”

“I didn’t use the adjective dainty with the intent of insulting you.”

“You didn’t mean it as a compliment either.”

“It was merely an observation.” He drawled somewhat warily.

“Well, if I wanted to, I could 1000% be a criminal.” She scoffed. “And a great one at that! I’d have a bunch of fancy equipment and steal a bunch of things before you even noticed. Including this clock over here.”

Damian raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you really trying to argue that you’re a criminal right now? That seems counterproductive.”

“I- you’re the one who called me too dumb to be a criminal!”

“I said dainty .” He protested.

“Which is just a nice way of saying dumb.”

“I… you are unbelievable. You didn’t answer my first question. Who are you? And what brings you here?”

“Oh, yes. I work for your brother, Dick? Your father had some information regarding one of our investigations and-”

“Oh. I see.” Damian interrupted, frown disappearing from his face. He tilted his head to the side, eyes wide as he inspected her again, this time with a curious gaze. “You’re my brother’s assistant. Smokes, Maverick… Richard is prone to using idiotic nicknames, but I abhor them and think they're a waste of time. I never did catch your real name.”

Smokes blinked in stupor at the nine-year-old child using the word “ abhor ”. She supplied her real name, then quickly added. “You don’t like nicknames?”

Damian raised an unimpressed brow. “Obviously not. Do you enjoy being compared to a cloud of smoke on a daily basis?”

“Well, I see what you mean but… it’s a mark of affection. You use nicknames for people you care about, it’s a way to bring people closer together.”

The kid shook his head solemnly. “Undermining your legal name is something I refuse to participate in. What's the purpose of having a name on your birth certificate if it's not being used?”

Did this kid just use the word undermine ? Bruce was a serious person, granted, but he’d raised Dick and the latter didn’t speak like he’d swallowed a dictionary. Damian was nine but spoke like an eighty-year-old man.

“I don’t think this debate about nicknames is going anywhere.”

“Two arguments barely qualify as a debate. You’re just-” His words were interrupted by a violent coughing fit, Damian folding forward and convulsing into his hand as Smokes started to panic.

“Damian!” She rushed around the big oak desk to his side, gently tapping his back to bring all the air up. It took Damian a few seconds to calm the spams and tears welled in his eyes when he straightened.

“I’m alright. Thank you for your assistance, though it was entirely unnecessary.” He held his chin high despite his hoarse voice. “Back to what we were saying, I- wait, hold on, what are you-”

Smokes ignored him as she placed her hand on his forehead. He was burning up. “Damian, you’re warm as hell. You clearly have a fever.”

“Oh, not you too. I am perfectly fine.”

“You were choking just ten seconds ago!”

“It was a momentary lapse in-” His sentence died down in his throat as he started coughing again, swatting her hand away when she tried to pat his back. “Ahem, as I was saying, it was just a momentary lapse in my otherwise exemplary health.”

She deadpanned. “Your cheeks are flushed, you’re pale, you have a fever, you can’t stop coughing. You’re clearly sick. Have you taken any medicine?”

Damian lowered his eyes, hiding his hands behind his back and pouting. He finally looked like a child, and her heart squeezed at the sight. “No.”

“Why not?” She asked softly, crouching a little to meet his stare.

He looked away, cheeks growing crimson. “It tastes… lousy.”

She chuckled. “Oh, Damian. Unfortunately, I have bad news for you. Most medicine tastes lousy.”

“Well, that is not an issue, for my immune system is irreprehensible, and thus I will never need to ingest any of that rotten nonsense!” He huffed, placing his hands on his hips.

“Damian…” She hesitated. 

Damian was stubborn, to say the least. And granted, given how stubborn Dick was, she should have suspected Damian would be the same, but… his stubbornness was different. Dick was inflexible when he helped people, never taking no for an answer, and determined to support the people he cared about in any way possible. Damian, on the other hand, was adamant about not being helped . He was obstinate in refusing any kind of aid or comfort, probably because he wanted to prove his worth.

Just like me , she thought with a pang of sorrow.

But Damian was just a child. He had plenty of time to grow up and learn to accept help from others. Unlike her, he still had time and a bright future ahead of him.

She did her best to display her kindest smile on her face, brown eyes searching his green. “Ok, Damian, how about this: if you take the medicine the doctor prescribed, I’ll drink it with you. This way we can complain about how gross it tastes together.”

He stared at her warily, sniffling slightly as he replied. “Really? It won’t… hurt you?”

“Nah, it won’t do anything to me since I’m not sick. But it’ll still taste just as bad. Think of it as a trial we can go through together. The sooner it’s over, the sooner you’ll go back to being healthy and full of energy.” She hoped he said yes. His body was swaying slightly, and she wasn’t sure if she’d have the strength to carry him to the kitchen if he refused to comply.

There were a few beats of silence during which Smokes could do nothing more than stare at the child with a hopeful gaze.

Damian eventually pouted. “... fine.”

Smokes’ smile widened at that, jumping happily at his concession. “Yay! Right then, to the kitchen we go. Though… I don’t actually know where the kitchen is.”

“Oh, is that why you ended up in Thomas Wayne’s study?”

She rubbed her neck sheepishly. “I was looking for Alfred but I got lost. I didn’t even know this was Thomas Wayne’s study.”

“Wayne Manor can be overwhelming for those who are unfamiliar with its layout and hidden passageways.” Damian shrugged, then pointed at the grandfather clock. “Though it’s impressive you nearly managed to activate the mechanism.”

So she hadn’t imagined the metallic whirring in the walls earlier.

She frowned. “What mechanism?”

“What do you mean, what mechanism ? The one that leads to-” Damian abruptly stopped short, some kind of realization hitting him. Brows knitted, he glanced back and forth between Smokes and the clock. “Just a quick question, what do you think my brother’s job is, exactly?”

Something was going on, and she was now a thousand percent certain she’d just stumbled on something big. This did nothing but confirm her suspicions: the Waynes were all hiding something.

And she was set on finding out what it was.

“Is this some kind of trick question?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Ok, well, Dick is a private investigator, obviously. He and Tim work together on cases back at the Nest.”

Damian snorted. “They call that rundown excuse of an apartment the Nest ?”

“Hey!” She instantly protested. “It’s not rundown! It’s just a little… rusty. But in a cozy way!”

“That place hasn’t been cleaned in years, and Timothee hangs his laundry to air dry all the time. Including his underwear.”

“Tim’s been better about the underwear since I arrived.” She motioned her head back towards the clock. “Where does the clock lead to?”

“Wall safe,” Damian answered a little too quickly. “Wayne Manor is filled with safes and hiding spots. You were probably just about to open some old family heirloom Father keeps stashed in there.”

“Oh.” She glanced back at the clock. Well. That was anticlimactic.

Damian strode towards the door, not looking back as he spoke. “You should probably write that down, since you’re a skilled criminal and all. Might come in handy when you attempt to rob us.”

Smokes glared at the back of his head as she followed. “Hilarious.”

Damian turned around slowly, giving her a familiar shit-eating grin. “I get that from Richard.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Turns out, navigating Wayne Manor was far easier in the presence of someone who actually knew the place. Damian took a record of only 3 turns and two hallways before they reached the luxurious, well-furnished kitchen. 

The space was pristine white, with marble top counters and just about every modern kitchen appliance Smokes could think of. Alfred was standing right behind one, wearing a black apron, and focused on chopping some vegetables. A pot filled with water was boiling on the water.

The old man looked up as they came in, trying to gauge Damian’s state of mind. “Miss Maverick, Master Damian… I was worried about both of you.”

Damian scoffed at the nickname, instead referring to her by her real name. “She got lost on her way here. I thought you were supposed to guide people around here, Pennyworth.”

Smokes nearly choked on her own saliva at the kid’s harsh words. “Damian!”

He cocked his head to the side, looking at her quizzically. “What?”

“You can’t just speak to Alfred like that!”

He blinked. “Like what?”

“So… so impolite! And rude!” She stammered.

Damian was looking at her like she was speaking a foreign language. “I don’t understand. He works for us. I can talk to him however I wish.”

“Miss Maverick, this is fine, don’t worry your little heart about it.” Alfred tried to intervene, but Smokes wasn’t having any of it.

She vehemently shook her head. “No, no. I’m worried alright. Alfred doesn’t just work for you, he’s practically a part of your family from what Dick has told me. And even if he wasn’t, you can’t speak to anyone like that.”

“Not even the people I pay?”

“Especially not the people you pay!"

Damian opened his mouth to retort but promptly closed it when Smokes crossed her arms and glared at him. He sulked a little, turning his head away sharply, raising his chin high. “Pennyworth, we are ready to take the medicine. Prepare the hideous beverage for both of us!”

“Please.” Smokes popped her head on his shoulder, giving him a feline grin.

“... please,” Damian mumbled rather begrudgingly, swatting her away while she laughed.

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. “You are… both going to drink it?”

“Yes, Alfred. It’s our little trial, you see? We’re both going to drink the lousy beverage together. It’s a bonding activity.” She explained, and the butler instantly caught the tacit meaning.

“Of course. I’ll get everything ready.”

Five minutes later, they were all staring at the cups filled with the green beverage. Damian made a strangled noise in the back of his throat when he smelled the cup, and in his defense, Smokes also had the urge to barf when the smell reached her nose for the first time. Alfred was staring at the scene with his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face.

“Alright, Dami, time to drink.” She declared, rolling up her sleeves. The boy only gulped in response. “We’ll just chug it, it’ll be fast and done this way.”

Damian nodded unconvincingly. 

“Ok, ready? Three, two, one… chug!”

Damian and Smokes raised the glasses filled with the green drink to their lips simultaneously, tipping it into their mouth, and started drinking. The nine-year-old gargled almost instantly, but somehow managed not to gag; Smokes suppressed her own squelch, throat working hard to ingest the medicine as quickly as possible.

It took her ten seconds to drink the whole thing; upon finishing it, she set the cup back onto the counter with a loud thud, sticking her tongue out and exclaiming “Bleh!” while Alfred laughed. She turned to look at Damian, who was still struggling to down the rest of his cup.

“You got this, Damian! Just a little more! Chug! Come on, Alfred, say it with me! Chug, chug, chug!”

Thus both Alfred and Smokes started chanting “ Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! ”, the butler pumping little fists in the air, while Damian scowled but continued to drink. “ Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! ” they kept shouting, their voices growing louder and faster as the boy approached the bottom of the cup. He didn’t waste a moment: as soon as he was done with the beverage, lapping up every last drop, he set the cup down on the counter and threw his hands in the air.

“I did it!” He proclaimed, smiling for the first time since she’d met him. Alfred whistled with his fingers, something she was not aware he could do (and from the look on Damian’s face, neither was he).

“You did it!” Smokes yelled back, mirroring his victory pose before rushing to his side. She pulled him into a hug before she could second guess the action at all. Damian’s body was stiff in her arms, the little boy clearly not used to such displays of affection. It took him a few moments to relax, and he eventually awkwardly patted her back, murmuring “ There, there ”.

Smokes pulled back, smile still etched across her features, and gently ruffled Damian’s hair. He attempted a pout, but a smile was threatening to erupt on his face as well. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get any word out-

“What in the world is going on here?”

The three of them whipped their heads to the kitchen’s doorway only to find Dick standing there. He was nonchalantly leaning on the side jamb, arms crossed as he watched the scene. His face was a mix of astonishment and delight, eyes burning into Smokes in a way that made her breath catch in her throat.

She squeezed Damian’s shoulders. “Damian here just drank his medicine!”

“Is that why you were chanting chug, chug, chug, chug like a bunch of college frat guys?”

A chorus of indignant “Master Dick!” “Richard!” and “Dick!” resonated around the room, the three of them practically glaring at the blue-eyed man. Dick’s laughter was his only response as he approached Smokes and Damian and picked the latter up in his arms, planting a soft kiss in his hair while he kicked his feet in the air and thrashed in his tender grip. But Dick wasn’t paying him any attention.

No. His blue eyes were fixed onto Smokes, sparkling with rapture and… something else. He muttered a silent “ Thank you ” that made her brain short-circuit. Her throat dried up instantly, cheeks flushing under his ardent gaze. She couldn’t get any words out.

So she winked instead.

In hindsight, winking hadn’t exactly been the smartest move (or her only option. Why had she winked? She could have just nodded! Or shook her head! Or literally anything else !). Dick had gone all red, almost dropping Damian while the little man shrieked “ Richard! If you insist on putting me through the embarrassment of being picked up like a toddler, at least have the decency to use your muscles wholeheartedly and not drop me like a sack of potatoes !”.

Alfred was forced to intervene, peeling Damian’s small - and surprisingly strong body - from Dick as he continued to flail wildly. It then took Dick approximately ten minutes and the promise of many, many candies and sweets to coax Damian into forgiving him (he pouted the whole time, though, and Smokes wasn’t a thousand percent certain he’d forgiven him).

It was well past noon by this point, and Alfred suggested they stay and eat with them. Dick and Smokes were about to refuse, but then their eyes landed on Damian’s big, pleading eyes, and they didn’t have the heart to say no. They thus started setting the table in the kitchen - Smokes had found with some sort of horror that Damian only ever ate at the colossal dinner table in Wayne Manor’s dining room, far too big for just him and Bruce and that he’d never ever set the table on his own, and she’d decided to take matters into her own hands (she would needed to have a serious talk with Dick about Damian’s manners).

To the boy’s credit, he didn’t scowl or complain (not too much anyway). He followed her lead, folding napkins and placing forks and knives beside the plates. He particularly enjoyed filling the water pitcher, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he did his best not to spill any on the counter. But Dick made funny faces at him the whole time, causing him to splash water all over the place and have a small meltdown because “ You messed me up! I hate you! ”. His brother only managed to stop the flow of tears and whimpers after promising even more sweets and chocolate cake. He then helped him blow his nose, and Damian “accidentally” puffed all his snot onto Dick’s hand; Dick screeched in disgust, rushing to wash his hands while the little boy giggled under his breath.

The two only stopped bickering after a stern scolding from Alfred, which made them instantly go quiet and sit down at the table like two civilized men (which Smokes was starting to doubt they were).

The butler served the portions of pasta - Smokes staring intently at Damian to make sure he said Thank you -, sat with them, and they all started eating amidst laughter and chatter.

Damian, in particular, glanced back and forth between his brother and Smokes for a few minutes before he took it upon himself to start a brutal third-degree interrogation worthy of the CIA.

“Where do you come from? Where were you born? What do your parents do? Any siblings? Younger or older? What qualifications do you have? Bachelor? Masters? Doctorate? Any debts? Retirement funds? Do you have a criminal record? Does anyone in your immediate family have a criminal record? Does anyone in your extended family have a criminal record? Have you ever committed a felony? Do you have any previous work experience? How did you end up working for my brother? Why are you still here? Are you a spy? Do you like my brother?”

Smokes’ head spun as he fired the questions one after the other, Dick protesting with increasingly displeased “ Damian!” s that did nothing to stop the little boy’s outflow of inquiries. Alfred just shrugged, apparently used to the young master’s antics.

“Sure, I like your brother.” She replied to his last question, ignoring the way Dick was practically burning a hole into her skull. “I wouldn’t be working for him if I didn’t like him.”

Damian tapped his chin pensively, gaze flitting yet again between her and Dick. He’d finished his plate, his appetite having returned thanks to the medicine, and he looked less pale than before.

“So, from what I’ve gathered,” He started after a few minutes, interrupting something Alfred was saying about gardening. “You’re a doctor.”

“Yes…” She replied cautiously, fearing where the conversation was headed.

“And you were a researcher at Oxford University.”

Her whole body went taut, throat clogging up like it always did when someone mentioned Oxford. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Dick freezing as well. Her grip around her fork tightened, hands trembling lightly as she did her best to steady her voice. 

“I was.” Fuck . That came out far more wobbly than she’d intended.

Dick shifted in his seat, putting down his fork and giving his brother a steely warning. “Damian.”

The little boy barreled on. “And you left your job in Oxford to come out here? To… be my brother’s secretary?”

Smokes’ ears were ringing, heart violently thumping against her ribcage, threatening to break free and bleed out onto the kitchen’s immaculate white floor. Was she still breathing? She’d forgotten how to breathe, couldn’t remember how to make her lungs function, or how to know if they were functioning in the first place. She could barely feel her body, barely breathe, barely hear her voice when she replied. 

“I did.” God, she sounded worse with every reply.

“Damian.” Dick ground out again, and she knew he was staring directly at her without even having to turn to look.

“So why did you leave your high-ranking, illustrious job in Oxford to work as a secretary?”

Bile instantly clawed its way up her throat, eyes growing glossy as she did her best to swallow. She couldn’t have made a sound even if she wanted to, images flashing right in front of her eyes. The life she’d had, the friends and colleagues she’d shared her joy with, the research she’d been so proud of, that fatal night in the lab when she’d been alone and then he’d arrived and-

Smokes’ heart plummeted in her chest as a strong, calloused hand landed on her thigh, right above her knee, and squeezed gently. Her breath caught in her throat, her stomach bottoming out with force, warmth spreading throughout her body, and she didn’t need to look to know it was Dick’s hand.

Dick’s hand.

Dick’s warm, big hand.

Dick’s warm, big hand on her thigh .

Dick’s warm, big hand squeezing her thigh. 

She dared a small peek at him. Dick’s face was the epitome of composure, expression practically impassive aside from the glowering glare directed at Damian. His body was upright, and nobody could see his arm stretching out under the table, his calloused fingers splayed across her thigh and faintly massaging small circles.

And despite the way her brain was going into overdrive, despite the thousands of questions darting through her mind, namely What the fuck is going on? and Oh my god, Dick noticed how uncomfortable I am, how embarrassing, does he know what happened? , despite all of her senses being filled with him and only him … It felt good.

It felt so, so good.

So good that her ragged breathing calmed down, the bile dissipated slowly, her muscles relaxed and went lax under his touch. Her thigh felt like it was on fire, but she wasn’t being burned. She was being cradled, with such softness and tenderness she didn’t worry for a second about being scorched.

Dick didn’t remove his hand as he chided Damian, voice frigid. “Damian. Enough.”

Damian, finally sensing the tension that threatened to blow up the room, glanced at his brother with teary, guilt-ridden eyes. “What? I’m just asking a question, I-”

“Damian.” The word alone was enough to shut the little boy up. “These are very personal questions, and they’re none of your business. Or mine, for that matter. You’ve already questioned Smokes enough, so let it go, ok?”

Regret flickered on Damian’s face. “I didn’t mean to… I was just making sure she was good enough for you, that’s all.” He mumbled the last sentence, and Smokes didn’t have any remaining brain cells to figure out what he meant by that. Damian turned to face her, lower lip trembling. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The sight of the little boy on the verge of tears instantly melted her. “It’s alright, Damian. You didn’t do anything wrong. To answer your question, I was growing a little bored, and I needed a change of scenery. I didn’t think I’d end up working for a private investigator, but here I am.”

She finally turned to face Dick, whose hand was still lying on her thigh, and shot him the most sincere, grateful smile she could muster. His blue eyes raked over her face, drinking in every expression, every breath, every slight movement she made, threatening to unravel her with the sheer force of his gaze. He didn’t look particularly convinced that she was fine, nor by the lie she’d just fed Damian; he knew her so well, she realized with a startle, that he knew when she was lying through her teeth.

She didn’t know what to do with that information.

Damian nodded slowly at her answer. “Right. And do you like it here?”

This time around, her smile wasn’t fake. “I do. I really, really do.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Alfred served dessert - special chocolate cake for our little patient - and another ten minutes went by before Smokes found an excuse to leave the table. Dick generously offered her said excuse, asking her if she wished to use the bathroom and then calmly explaining how to reach it. She was fairly certain he’d noticed her lingering discomfort and offered her a way to recollect herself, and she didn’t know whether to be grateful or absolutely terrified by how well he knew her.

She spent nearly fifteen minutes in the bathroom, breathing in and out slowly as she calmed down. From Damian’s not-so-subtle interrogation, yes, but also from the way Dick’s hand had lingered on her thigh until dessert had been served and he’d been forced to remove it. She glanced down at the spot where his hand had been: it still felt warm and sizzling, as if her muscle was hyper-aware of what had just happened.

She exhaled sharply. Dick was her friend, and he’d done it to soothe her and reassure her. As a friend . That was all there was to it. The gesture had been unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome. And that was the end of that.

She washed her hands, ignoring the way her heart squeezed, and screamed at her that it’s not that easy! You’re oversimplifying things! Stop running! She couldn’t deal with this. There was nothing to deal with in the first place, and even if there was - which there wasn’t - she didn’t have the time nor the strength to deal with it.

She stared at herself in the mirror, chin high and eyes determined. She was ok. She was safe. She didn’t need anyone else.

While reaching the bathroom had been fairly easy, returning to the kitchen proved to be more of a challenge. She’d spent so much time in the bathroom that she’d forgotten Dick’s directions. She quickly found herself wandering Wayne Manor’s halls once more, turning left and right and left again in hopes of eventually reaching the kitchen.

Sighing, Smokes turned right for what felt like the hundredth time of the day. The hallway wasn’t very long, but there was only a staircase at its end. She could go back and try to find her way to the bathroom and then the kitchen, or… she could go up the stairs and hope she found another staircase that would lead her back down.

She only hesitated half a second before climbing the stairs, hoping she wouldn’t stumble onto some creepy decades old family secret, or worse, a dead body. (Or maybe she should hope she stumbled upon a dead body for the sake of drama?).

Smokes popped up on a cozier, less frigid hallway. The hall was messier compared to the rest of the house, but it also looked more alive: random items were strewn on the tables adorning the walls, and each door was decorated with a plaque. Upon inspecting the plaque, she realized why this hall felt more alive: she’d somehow stumbled on the Wayne children’s bedrooms, the plaques reading each of their names in fancy, stylized letters.

Tim’s plaque was black and green, while Jason’s was blood red and Damian had opted for a yellow one. When she reached the final door at the end of the hall, Smokes already knew whom it belonged to.

Dick’s plaque was electric blue, and someone had drawn a little smiley under his name. The door to his room somehow felt friendlier than the others, radiating a familiar warmth and sense of safety. Her hand instinctively reached for the doorknob, and she stopped short of turning it and pushing the door open. Would it be inappropriate to go into his childhood room? Did it technically count as snooping? She wasn’t really snooping per se, she was just curious to know what his bedroom looked like. And surely, with the way his hand had lingered on her thigh earlier, he wouldn’t mind her going into his room.

Right?

She didn’t give herself the time to second-guess her decision and pushed the door open. The door didn’t squeak, clearly well-oiled, and Smokes left it hanging open as she took in the space.

It was so… Dick.

The room, of course, was entirely blue-themed. A queen-sized bed, covered in black and blue sheets, was shoved under the window adorned with blue curtains. The walls were furbished with shelves displaying a variety of different trinkets, including school trophies, medals, and family pictures. There was a small desk on the right side of the room with - you guessed it - a modern blue rolling chair and a black lamp. Some notebooks and various knickknacks sat on the desk, and a corkboard filled to the brim with pictures hung on the wall right above it.

Smokes took a step closer, practically moaning in delight when her feet sank into the blue and black plush rug, and went to inspect the pictures. They were mostly pictures from when he was younger, many of them with his friends from summer camp. He recognized them now: trips to the beach with Wally and Kaldur, football games with Conner and M’gann, disneyland with Zatanna and Raquelle, road trips with Artemis and Wally, his graduation ceremony with Bruce and Alfred, Halloween parties where they all dressed as the Justice League sidekicks - and their costumes were quite convincing too! There were a myriad of pictures, all stacked one on top of the other, as if Dick didn’t have enough space to display all of his happiness.

Her attention snagged onto a picture at the bottom, that looked newer compared to the rest. It was a picture of Dick and Damian, the latter sitting in his lap with a small frown while the former smiled widely. Damian didn’t look older than five, and Smokes’ heart squeezed at the sight of him. Right next to it was another picture, with a gorgeous red-headed woman. They were standing next to each other, Dick’s arm wrapped around her waist and both of them clad in elegant clothes. Dick looked so… in love, and Smokes didn’t have any doubt that this was Barbara.

Her stomach bottomed out uncomfortably, and Smokes turned away from the wall, not wanting to linger further on the implications. Dick had been in a long-term relationship and in love, and there was nothing wrong with that. She wasn’t sure why the idea made her mouth go dry and her heart thrash in her chest; if anything, she should have been happy that Dick wasn’t scared of commitment like most of Gotham believed him to be.

She turned to get another look at the rest of the room: the curtains were pulled back and the sunlight shone right through, illuminating every trophy and accomplishment. Her eyes stopped on a framed picture on his nightstand and she took a few steps toward it. She picked it up slowly, her brain trying to process what she was seeing.

This picture was far, far older than the other ones. It was slightly crumpled inside its frame, as if somebody had held onto it too tight in the night. Dick couldn’t have been older than seven, wearing a sparkly bodysuit and smiling happily at the camera. The two adults wrapping their arms around him had that unmistakable Grayson charm, displaying full teeth smiles and eyes crinkling in joy. It didn’t take a genius to realize that these were his parents. Dick was a carbon copy of his mother, right down to the shape of his nose and the two dimples that adorned his cheeks. Their blue eyes sparkled in the same way, filled with so much innocence and glee. It was almost upsetting, seeing how happy they’d been while knowing how the story ended in tragedy.

“Snooping around, now, are we?”

Chapter Text

This time, Smokes didn’t jump or startle like she’d done with Damian. No, not when she knew exactly who was speaking.

Dick’s voice had an amused lilt to it, and she turned around to find him leaning on the side jamb, arms crossed as he watched her with mirth. She should have probably felt a little more embarrassed about being caught snooping around the house like a criminal, but this was Dick, and she knew he wouldn’t mind.

She smiled, awkwardly waving the picture frame in her hands at him. “I got lost on my way back from the bathroom.”

“I know. You were gone half an hour, so I came looking for you.”

Her heart squeezed slightly at that. He’d come looking for her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had come looking for her.

She smiled softly. “Well, I tried returning to the kitchen but… ended up here instead.”

“How convenient.” His tone was playful as he took a few steps toward her. “It’s alright, I don’t have anything to hide. I hope you found all my dark, embarrassing secrets here.”

“Oh plenty, believe me.” She laughed, looking at the shelves filled with prizes and medals. “Though you have an impressive collection of trophies.”

“Bruce used to take me to gymnastics and acrobatics competitions as a kid. I was really good. Too good, actually. He had to stop taking me after a while because the other parents thought it was unfair since I grew up on a circus and all.”

Dick didn’t sound particularly sad, but he didn’t need to; Smokes was sad on his behalf. He’d grown up on a circus. So what? That wasn’t grounds to disqualify him or keep him from competing. It explained why he was so good, but it wasn’t like he was cheating or anything.

It was easy to forget he’d grown up on a circus sometimes. Dick rarely spoke about his life before Bruce or about his parents. It felt like his existence started when he moved into Wayne Manor at the ripe age of nine, everything before then being neatly erased and locked away.

“That sounds unfair.”

Dick simply shrugged. “It’s ok. I never really cared. But often they’d take place outside of Gotham, so Bruce and I would make a small road trip out of it. The furthest one was in California, and we drove for 4 days.” His hand reached for a trophy, stroking it pensively, lips twitched upwards. “4 days of just me and Bruce. That was my favorite one. Oh, and I won gold, of course.”

Smokes snorted. “Ever so modest.”

“You know me too well, sweetheart.”

He placed the trophy back on its shelf, caressing it one last time before returning his gaze to her. His blue eyes landed on the picture frame she was still holding in her left hand, dimming instantly at the sight. His whole body tensed, and he exhaled sharply in a way he rarely ever did.

Smokes hadn’t been embarrassed before, but she sure as hell was now. She quickly placed the frame back on the nightstand, face heating up as she started stumbling on her words. “Sorry. I was snooping, obviously, and this picture was on your nightstands so…”

He shook his head. “It’s alright, it’s… fine.” He walked towards her, gently picking up the frame and staring at it wistfully, brushing away some dust with two fingers. They lingered there, on his mother’s smiling figure.

Smokes swallowed. Fuck. Maybe she shouldn’t have walked in here to snoop. What spirit had possessed her to do it in the first place? Sure, Dick was - tentatively - her friend, but they were nowhere close enough for her to just casually snoop around his childhood bedroom and-

“Ow!” Smokes winced when Dick flicked her forehead, a small grin etched onto his features. She glared at him, massaging her forehead. “What was that for?”

“You were thinking too hard. I could practically see you spiraling.”

“I was not spiraling!” She protested with heated cheeks.

“Were too. It’s alright, I told you. If I’d stumbled upon your childhood bedroom, I would have gone inside too.”

“I don’t have a childhood bedroom.”

He frowned at that. “What? Why?”

“We moved around too much when I was a kid. I suppose I had about a dozen childhood bedrooms, but we never owned the houses, so we had to pack everything up every time we moved.” She shrugged. She technically had a room in Rome, the only house her parents owned, but she’d only lived there for a year when she was 10. Her mother had revamped it when she’d left for university, but it had never felt like her room. It was just a room that happened to be hers when she was visiting.

“Hmm. I didn’t have a room until I moved into Wayne Manor either. My parents owned a caravan to follow the circus across the country. There was only one bed and barely any space, so I always ended up sleeping between them.”

Smokes blinked in astonishment, breath catching in her throat. This was the first time she’d heard him speak about his parents. Normally it was all Bruce here and Alfred there and Jason, Tim, and Damian did that because they were undoubtedly his family. But this? This was new, uncharted territory.

“I thought you were Gotham born and raised?” She dared, not knowing what else to say.

He chuckled in response. “I was. Haly’s Circus is Gotham-based. It spends 6 months in Gotham and the other 6 months on the road. They’ve been doing European tours lately, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

“I’m not a… circus person.” 

Dick smirked. “You mean you’re terrified of heights?”

“I am not terrified of heights!” She sputtered, her sudden outburst only making him break into laughter.  “I have a perfectly rational, tiny, and practically insignificant fear of heights. That is entirely different.”

“Whatever you say. I figured as such, though, which is why I haven’t taken you to the circus yet.” His eyes dropped to the picture frame again, something akin to pride clouding his eyes.

“You still go?”

“Oh, yeah. I actually own a part of it, now.”

Smokes’ jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

Dick looked back up, brows furrowing in amusement at her shocked expression. “Of course. Why do you look so shocked?”

“I don’t know, I just… I didn’t think you’d like to be back.” She cringed internally. That sounded so bad, Dick was bound to be angry at what she was implying. Then again, it’s not like she’d taken a class called How to Discuss Dead Parents 101 (Maybe she needed to. Did such a class even exist?)

“Ah.” Understanding flashed across his features, but his face surprisingly relaxed. “Well. It took me a couple of years, but I went back eventually. When I turned 18 the circus was struggling, so I became a shareholder and started investing. It’s doing much better now.”

Smokes shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was. She knew Dick was selfless and - sometimes excessively - generous. It made sense that he would want to keep his childhood circus alive to honor the memory of his parents and all of his family.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Dick.” Her voice softened, in a way she hoped conveyed just how much she admired him.

He shrugged. “It was nothing. The circus is thriving and doing incredibly well, and that’s all that really matters. I…” He hesitated, hands still toying with the picture frame. “No. Nevermind.”

There were a few beats of silence during which Smokes raised her eyebrows multiple times, waiting for him to elaborate. Dick simply shook his head with a smirk.

“Well, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!” She exclaimed, gently smacking his arm. “You have to tell me now.”

“You’ll make fun of me.”

“I won’t!”

“You will.”

“I wo- I might,” She amended, causing Dick to chuckle. “But it’s all in good faith.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally settling on something. “Fine. I… still perform from time to time.”

Her jaw dropped yet again in disbelief. “Really?”

He nodded slowly, swallowing as his eyes raked over his parents’ figure. “Yup. Not often, just a few shows here and there when I need to blow off some steam but- ow! What was that for?” He jerked backward when she smacked his arm - again.

“You perform at the circus and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested, given your fear of heights and all.” The comment earned him another gentle smack which only made him shake his head with a laugh.

“I thought we’d already established that I am not scared of heights. Besides- wait, what do you do?”

“Trapeze artist.”

“Hm, I did always prefer the jugglers.” She giggled when he flicked her forehead again.

“Of course you did. Have you seriously never been to a circus before?”

“Maybe when I was a kid? I vaguely remember my parents taking me to a show back when we still lived in San Francisco. I remember thinking the trapeze artists were insane.”

Dick snorted. “Of course you did.”

“What? It’s objectively dangerous! Only an idiot like you could decide that chasing criminals around all day wasn’t life-threatening enough and that he has to perform at the circus too.”

“I promise, it’s not as dangerous as it looks. There’s the net, and just about a thousand different safety measures to ensure nothing goes wrong. It’s soothing.” Dick raised his head to look at her, her breath catching in her throat when she caught his gaze. “I’ll take you once, you won’t understand until you see it.”

Smokes blinked a few times, not knowing what to say. Dick was looking at her like that again, in that way that made her heart pound in her chest and her knees go weak; in that way that made her feel seen when she’d spent two years hiding from everyone and everything. Rationally, she should have been terrified and run as quickly and far away as possible.

But in truth, she didn’t mind it. She wanted Dick to see her, and she wanted to see him perform at the circus (even though she’d probably have a heart attack the whole time).

So she smiled instead, the motion so familiar and easy she could hardly believe there had been a time she thought she’d never smile again.

“I look forward to it.” 

The smile Dick returned was practically blinding, spreading over his face softly as he continued looking at her. His cheeks were tinted with a faint shade of red, shy dimples finding their way onto his face. Had he always been this pretty?

She broke away first, overwhelmed by his smile and dimples and the thoughts cascading through her mind. She needed to calm down before she combusted on the spot. Dick finally looked away, placing the picture on his nightstand and giving the frame one final squeeze before letting go.

“They would have liked you,” He added pensively.

“I… you think?”

“Yeah. I do. The more time passes, the fewer memories of them I have left. But I’m sure they would have liked you. They loved everyone, and you are one of the most generous and brave people I know. They would have liked you.”

Smokes swallowed. Well, so much for calming down. How in the world was he so calm when he said stuff like that? “I’m not very generous. Or brave.”

Dick frowned at her, looking hurt that she’d think such a thing. “Yes, you are. You could have just gone back to your boring, safe office job, but instead, you chose to dedicate all of your time to helping other people and chasing criminals. You barrel into dangerous situations headfirst.”

“You said it was reckless just the other day.” Smokes did her best to retort past the knot that was forming in her throat. Fuck. Did he really see her like that? She’d started working with him by pure coincidence, she hadn’t decided to dedicate her life to helping others out of the kindness of her heart.

“Of course, I see you like that.” His reply was swift, firm, and she realized with horror that she’d been speaking out loud. “Everybody does. The fact you didn’t intend to help people when you first moved to Gotham doesn’t lessen what you do. You help people every day, and it takes a lot of guts to keep doing what you do. Most people don’t last. You are generous and brave and so much more than that. Don’t forget it.”

If Smokes didn’t know what to say earlier, she was even more at a loss for words now. All she could do was blink in stupor at the determined glint in his eyes, as if his life depended on this. On her believing that she was just as amazing as he perceived her to be. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve someone who believed in her as much as Dick did, someone who always saw the best in her and made sure she knew it; she probably didn’t deserve him, if she was being honest with herself. Yet here he was, almost like the universe had sent him for her.

And she didn’t know what to do with him.

Dick sensed her hesitation and swiftly added: “Anyways, speaking of the gremlin, we should probably head back. When I left, Alfred was trying to coax Damian into doing his English homework and it was… not going well, to say the least.”

Smokes laughed, glad that he’d changed the subject. She wasn’t sure she had an answer to what he’d said. “Damian isn’t homeschooled?”

“No. I went to school and I was fine, so Alfred and I thought it would probably be better for him to go to school and make friends.”

“And has he? Made friends, I mean.”

“Have you met him?” They both snorted. “Damian says he has Bruce, Alfred, Tim, Jason, and I, and that it’s already 5 people too many to care about.”

“Sounds just about Damian. We should get going before he murders Alfred.” They both started towards the door, Dick leading the way. He suddenly stopped, turning around to face her and rubbing his neck sheepishly.

“I’m sorry about earlier, by the way. Damian is spectacularly bad at reading the room.”

It took Smokes a moment to figure out what he was talking about, images of Damian interrogating her and Dick’s hand resting on her thigh flashing through her mind. Was Dick apologizing about placing his hand on her thigh? He probably was. It made sense, she supposed, given how intimate the gesture had been. Surely, it wasn’t appropriate. Yet her stomach bottomed out uncomfortably, and she wasn’t entirely sure why she wasn’t happy he was apologizing about it.

“It’s alright, don’t worry.” She shrugged him off with a smile. “He’s just a kid. Kids are curious.”

“That they are.” Dick opened his mouth to add something else but stopped short. “Well, we should get going before Damian comes hunting for us.”

And despite his confident strut and little smirk as they descended the stairs, Smokes couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been meaning to say something else.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

When they finally returned to the kitchen, they found the space strangely quiet and empty. It only took Dick a small guess to figure out where Alfred and Damian had gone, and he pushed the massive oak doors to the Manor’s library a mere 2 minutes later. 

Smokes’ eyes widened in marvel at the gigantic area standing in front of her: shelves filled to the brim with books of all types and colors lined every spare inch of the surface, reaching up to the ceiling of the room - could it even be called a room with how big it was? There were a few small windows here and there, decorated with maroon and gold curtains pulled to the side to let in the light. Multiple elephant ladders sat next to the libraries, and she spied tiny wheels at their feet, likely to move them around. A wooden spiral case, with flowery carvings, led to a second floor which could be seen from where they were standing, demarcated by a small balcony and even more libraries full of books. Sofas, desks, and chairs sat in the middle of the room.

Her jaw dropped. In her eyes, this library was only second to the one in The Beauty and the Beast .

“Impressed?” Dick asked playfully, nudging her arm gently.

She was about to reply that yes , she was impressed, and was Bruce willing to adopt another person? when strident little cries interrupted them. They both whipped their heads to the far left corner of the room, where Damian and Alfred were sitting at one of the desks. The butler was glaring at the young master, the latter crossing his arms and looking away indignantly.

“Pennyworth, this is utterly ridiculous! I am a man of knowledge and literature, I will not stoop to such… abhorrent levels of fractious writing!”

Smokes deadpanned. She’d almost forgotten Damian spoke like a living dictionary.

“Master Damian, the prompt is to describe your winter break, not to ponder upon the meaning of life.”

“This is why society is declining! Why humanity is deteriorating!”

The butler raised a quizzical eyebrow at the boy. “Humanity is deteriorating because your English teacher asked you to write an essay about your winter break?”

“Exactly!” Damian slammed his little hands on the table, staring very ominously into Alfred’s eyes. “We waste our youth’s time with writing silly, inconsequential essays about banal things. But if we started instructing them, seriously instructing them at a young age, then our society would evolve faster! Nine-year-olds would finally be able to share their insights and philosophy, hone them and develop them, and contribute to society in a meaningful manner!”

Smokes and Dick glanced at each other, blinking in confusion and seemingly communicating can you fucking believe this child? to each other, before Dick finally broke down, hysterically giggling into his palm as he did his best to hide his hysteria.

Damian abruptly looked up, eyes narrowing onto his brother’s figure. “Richard! Don’t you dare laugh at my master plan!”

“You mean- you mean how you’re planning on indo-indoctrinating the children of America?” Dick struggled to get words out, completely breathless as giggles interrupted him every three syllables. Smokes was also having trouble keeping calm, biting down hard on her lip in hopes of not breaking into laughter.

Damian gasped dramatically, jumping off his chair and stalking angrily toward his brother. “It is not indoctrination! This is merely a more sophisticated and advanced education! The sooner we introduce our youth to the reality of the world, the more time they will have to contemplate these issues and come up with solutions!”

Dick was folded in half, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to breathe from all the laughing. “You- you think your classmates a-are going to come up with solutions to s-save the w-world?”

“I’m pretty sure your friend Veronica swallowed an eraser last week,” Alfred added nonchalantly from the table.

Damian’s cheeks flared bright red. “Pennyworth! Richard! You are not taking me seriously! And besides, Veronica is not my friend, I don’t associate with such simple-minded people!”

“Master Damian, Veronica is top of your class.”

“By pure luck!”

Damian continued defending his case for the following ten minutes, chasing Dick around the library as the latter continued laughing hysterically and making fun of his grand plan to change the world. Alfred merely watched the scene with amusement, only intervening when Damian grabbed an antique, very thick copy of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare and attempted to fling the tome at Dick’s head.

The four of them eventually sat down at the table together, putting the English essay aside and helping out Damian with some of his other homework, despite the little boy’s insistence that he “ did not require any aid ”. Dick’s fit of giggles hadn’t entirely dwindled though, snorting when Damian criticized Veronica for having yet to read The Silence of the Lambs .

“Damian, you had nightmares for a week straight when you finished that book!” His brother protested amidst another fit of laughter. “You couldn’t sleep, and it was so bad I had to stay at the Manor and sleep in your room to calm you down!”

This earned him a feral growl and Damian’s science textbook right in the face, and Alfred yet again interfered to break up the fight.

The following couple of hours were relatively tranquil, only destabilized by Dick’s occasional teasing and Damian’s increasingly decreasing patience. Alfred eventually left to get started on dinner and complete other household tasks, wishing Smokes good luck with a resigned sigh. Yet, despite the butler’s absence, things were relatively quiet, Damian and Dick having found a rhythm and going through his assignments rather quickly.

Another hour passed and Damian realized he’d left his English textbook back in his room. Dick ruffled his hair as they stood up. “You stay here, we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Smokes could only nod as she watched the two of them stride out of the room, Dick attempting to pull his brother into a side hug while the little boy dashed back and forth out of his grasp, happily crying that he was faster and stronger than you, Richard! (this ended, of course, in Dick grabbing Damian in one swift move and throwing him over his shoulder while the little boy thrashed and screamed).

Smokes shook her head, smiling to herself. God, those two were… they really cared about each other. Her thoughts momentarily went to her little brother Eric, whom she hadn’t heard from in a while. She’d been better at calling him since Christmas break, but things were still… odd. She and Eric had always been particularly close, and when she’d announced to her parents that she was moving to Gotham out of the blue, without giving them any reason for her sudden departure, Erica had immediately supported her. Her parents had pressed and pressed and pressed for a reason, and when she’d been physically incapable of explaining what had happened, Erica had defended her, no questions asked. He’d told their parents that this was a common thing amongst researchers, that many of them worked for private enterprises for a while before switching back to research, and there was no reason to worry.

What she hadn’t realized, however, was that Eric expected her to explain to him what had happened. And when she’d refused to open up to him, he’d been far more hurt than she could have anticipated. “ It’s not about you. ” she’d told him before shutting down, but it sounded dishonest even to her own ears.

Eric had tried to help her, over and over again, and in response, she’d only pushed him away further, rarely picking up his calls and responding to his messages days late, sometimes weeks late.

She’d felt so ashamed at the time, like such a failure, and she didn’t want her little brother to see her like that. She still felt some of the shame, as if it had seeped deep beneath her bones permanently; it was always there, no matter how many times she tried to wash it away. And despite how serene she’d felt these past few months, she still didn’t know what to do or how to fix everything. If there was anything left to fix in the first place.

Padded footsteps grew closer, coming from the library’s entrance, and Smokes eagerly raised her head, expecting to see Dick and Damian walk in (bickering all the way, of course). She was surprised when Jason’s laid-back figure appeared instead.

“Oh. Hello, Maverick.” He greeted her casually, walking towards the desk where she was seated. “I didn’t know you and Dick were at the Manor today.”

Smokes had only met Jason once, at Artemis and her husband’s Christmas party, and even then she’d barely exchanged a few words with him. The man had been quiet for most of the party, listening to the others carefully and only breaking a smile from time to time. His scared, bruised hands had immediately caught her attention, wondering who - or what - had done that to him. But Jason paid his battered hands no attention, as if he was so used to their disfigurement that he didn’t even notice it anymore.

Jason Todd had been considered dead and buried for nearly ten years before mysteriously resurfacing along with Damian. The media had never gotten over the mystery, coming up with thousands of intricate conspiracies strewn all over the internet. The Wayne family had never confirmed what had happened, keeping quiet and acting as if nothing had happened. Smokes had only asked once, and even Dick had been vague about it, claiming that “ Jason needed some time away from the public eye ”. She knew enough of his tells to know it was complete bullshit, but didn’t press further.

Even now, 5 years later, Jason still lived at the Manor and lived like a ghost - or so headlines said. He didn’t look like a ghost to her, though. He merely looked like someone who hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to do in life.

She supposed they were similar in that way.

Smokes warmly smiled at him, remembering what he’d told her when they’d parted ways at the Christmas Party: “ I’ll probably bump into you at Wayne Manor soon enough anyways ”. “Hi, Jason. Guess you were right about seeing me here after all.”

Jason’s lips twitched upwards. “I figured it was only a matter of time before Dick brought you over.” He looked around the room. “Speaking of Grayson, where is he?”

“Dick and Damian went to get his English textbook. We’re helping him with homework.” She raised Damian’s Spanish notebook with an amused smile.

“Ah. So you’ve met the goblin. He’s been begging to meet you for weeks now. We were kind of scared he’d randomly barge into the Nest one day.”

“Really?” That little shit had known who she was all along. She would need to get revenge for that.

“Of course. Dick talks about you all the time, and I think Damian was starting to be a little jealous.”

Smokes swallowed and blinked in surprise. Dick spoke about her all the time? Well, maybe if he and Tim spoke about work often it made sense she would come up. “I suppose I must come up often when he talks about work.”

“That’s not…” Jason frowned, pausing. “That’s not what I meant.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but came up short. That wasn’t what he meant? Then what did he mean? What other reason did Dick have to bring her up so often?

“Oh. Well, I… I hope Damian wasn’t too jealous then.”

“Nah, he’s fine. He’s just weirdly overprotective of Dick when it comes to stuff like this.” Stuff like what? she wanted to ask, but refrained from doing so.

“They seem to care about each other a lot, despite all the bickering.”

Jason snorted. “They do. Dick gave up a lot when Damian and I came back, and I think Damian sensed that.” Smokes knew what he was talking about this time. Barbara . Dick had broken up with her to take care of them, and she wasn’t entirely sure why she was so relieved at the thought. “It’s funny, though, because if you talk to either of them they’re irrevocably convinced the other one hates them.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Really?”

Jason nodded. “It’s a complicated relationship. You know, Dick is much closer to Alfred and Bruce than Tim and I. His parents died earlier, and he has fewer memories of them than Tim and I do of our own. They stepped up much earlier for him, and as a result, he truly sees them as parental figures. But when Damian showed up, that careful balance was threatened, and it took a while for everyone to adjust. I think he was scared Damian would try to replace him - and similarly, Damian was scared that Dick had already replaced him.”

“That’s… that’s horrible.”

“It is. Ultimately, though, Dick’s love for Damian came out on top, and Damian warmed up to the idea of sharing Bruce with his brothers. And now, they bicker and shout, but they truly love each other.” Jason paused, narrowing his eyes at her. “Dick gives his all for the people he cares about, sometimes to his own detriment.”

She smiled thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed.”

“Have you?” She couldn’t figure out what his inquisitive gaze was hiding.

“I… Of course, I have. During investigations, he always-

“I’m not talking about investigations.” He interrupted swiftly, shaking his head. “Dick tries to fix everyone’s problems. It’s in his blood at this point. I don’t think anyone could stop him. I… honestly, I think he wishes he could fix your problems.”

Smokes could only blink in astonishment. Dick had said something of the sort that morning, but… “I don’t think my problems are exactly solvable. And I don’t see why Dick would want to solve them.”

Jason continued staring at her, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. His eyes widened slightly, as if he’d finally put the pieces together, and he then shook his head, muttering something along the lines of “ I better get the brother of the year award for this ”, and addressed her again. “In case it wasn’t obvious, Dick really cares about you.”

“He’s my boss.”

“Bosses don’t bring their employees to their childhood home to meet their little brother and family. They don’t rescue their employees from canceled flights and celebrate Christmas Eve with them either, while we’re at it.”

Smokes’ mouth tightened into a thin line. The excuse “ He’s my boss. ” had come out so instinctively, so quickly, as if that was the only thing standing between her and… something else. Something she refused to acknowledge, something she wouldn’t know what to do with. She’d already had this conversation, or at the very least a similar version of it, with Kaldur at the Christmas Eve party. What had he said back then? “ Whatever it is, Dick can handle it. Especially since he cares so much about you. ”

“I…” She started, desperately searching for words. “Dick is my friend. I know that he cares and that he’d probably like to do more, but… there are things even he can’t solve.”

“You’re not giving him nearly enough credit. Even if he couldn’t solve them, I think it would make him… happy, if you confided in him about what’s bothering you. Dick trusts you with his life, and I think he wishes you trusted him too.”

Smokes’ eyes watered, voice thick as she answered. “I do trust him. Of course, I trust him.”

“Then why not tell him what happened in Oxford?”

The words died down in her throat before she could even attempt to open her mouth to reply. It’s not like she hadn’t thought about telling Dick. Of course she had. How many times had she found herself wondering what it would feel like to just let it out, let him know everything that had gone down back in Oxford? But every time she tried doing it, every time she merely opened her mouth, the bile would rise and the shame would flare and all she could picture was Dick’s disappointed and pitying face and-

She couldn’t do it. Physically couldn’t. It would change everything . She didn’t want to reopen this old wound, not when she was finally moving on. Maybe if she didn’t talk about it, it would magically go away and leave her alone. Disappear from her mind, as if it had never happened in the first place.

She wasn’t sure if she actually believed that, but it was the only thing keeping her going.

“It’s… much more complicated than that.” She admitted quietly.

“Yes, I’ve gathered that. Dick has gathered that too. And I think it’s driving him insane that you won’t let him help you at all.”

“There’s nothing he can do to help.” She repeated, harsher this time. She was starting to grow tired of people around her telling her what to do and how to handle her issues.

“You won’t know that until you tell him.”

A long silence filled the library, neither of them breaking the stalemate as they continued staring at each other.

Jason was the first to look away, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Just… Please let him down gently when the time comes, ok?”

Smokes was about to ask him what he meant by that when two familiar voices boomed in the hallway leading to the library, bickering as always. Her body instantly relaxed at the sound of Dick’s carefree laughter.

“Richard! My master plan is brilliant, and you have no business disparaging it with such words when your tiny, peanut brain would never be able to come up with better!” Damian exclaimed angrily, seemingly still not over their previous conversation. The child’s eyes softened when they landed on Jason’s figure. “Jason! There you are, where have you been all day, leaving me alone to deal with Richard?”

“Hey!” Dick protested playfully, ruffling the child’s hair yet again.

Jason smirked. “Well, Dami, in case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been insufferable these past few days, refusing to drink your medicine and all, so I was merely waiting for your sickly wrath to pass. Alfred told me you finally drank it, though, so I figured it was safe to come out of hiding.”

The little boy’s nostrils flared, his whole face turning red, and steam coming out of his ears as he replied. “Jason! Those are vile, vile accusations, and I refuse to tolerate such atrocities said about me!”

Dick then chimed in while Jason started laughing, and the three brothers continued jokingly bothering for a little while. Smokes didn’t have the heart to interrupt them, heart squeezing at the amount of love they had for each other. She really should call Eric soon.

Damian eventually turned to her. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Smokes blinked. “I… what?”

The little boy came up to her side, taking her hands in his and pleading at her with big, round eyes. “Dick is staying, and Timothee is coming too. Alfred said we can eat in the kitchen again. Will you please stay? Please? Please? You like the word please , right?”

Smokes chuckled slightly, looking over at Dick for confirmation. She found the blue-eyed man smiling softly at her, gently nodding.

“Sure, I’ll stay.”

“Yay!”

Damian started jumping up and down, cartwheeling his way around the library, and they all laughed at the boy’s happiness. 

But Dick wasn’t looking at Damian. He was looking at Smokes.

And she was looking right back.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Thus, they sat down to eat at the kitchen counter a couple of hours later. Tim had arrived soon enough, fake fighting Damian as he asked the kid if he was feeling better. The brothers all chugged the green beverage together, to encourage the smallest one, though Damian later whispered in Smokes’ ear that “ they didn’t need to do that, I just enjoy seeing them suffer ”. The atmosphere was relaxed and teasing as they set the table, Damian happily showing Jason and Tim all Smokes had taught him that day - and then accidentally dropping a glass on the floor and tearing up as it shattered.

When Bruce finally arrived, eyebrows raised suspiciously at the scene. Dick and Smokes were still calming Damian’s tears while Tim and Jason cleaned up the shards of glass. Though Bruce had never eaten outside Wayne Manor’s massive dining hall - a discovery that made all his sons gasp dramatically and tease their adoptive father - he was quick to adapt to the kitchen.

They all dined happily, exchanging jokes and anecdotes around the table as Alfred served portions and offered puns of his own. Even Jason and Bruce, who rarely smiled, cracked up more than one time as Damian and Tim fought about whose hacking skills were better (why did Damian have hacking skills in the first place? Smokes was going to have to investigate that). Dick sat next to her the whole time, knee sometimes bumping into hers under the table as he laughed; and to her dismay, Smokes didn’t mind one bit.

When dinner was over, Damian had yet to write the infamous essay about his winter break. Smokes offered to help him with it while Jason and Tim stayed to help Alfred clean the dishes - “ This is the first time these two have willingly offered to do household chores, Miss Maverick, I assure you ” he said solemnly, the two brothers protesting with loud, indignant “ Hey! ”s - and Dick and Bruce went to discuss in his study. She’d sensed Dick wanting to pull Bruce a part throughout the whole dinner, and she wondered what they’d be talking about. 

Damian and Smokes settled once again into the library, this time sitting on one of the maroon couches, Damian’s English notebook sprawled on the coffee table in front of them.

“So,” Smokes started, pensively tapping her pen on her lip. “What’s the issue with this essay then? Did you not do anything interesting during winter break?”

“Of course I did! Father and I went skiing for a few days, and Richard brought me to the circus. Timothee took me to Washington for a few days - though it was revolting because he spent most of the trip trying to woo Cassandra with heart eyes.”

Smokes snorted. “You call your dad Father ?”

“Of course! What else would I call him?”

“Huh, Dad? Daddy? Pa? Literally any name other than Father ?”

Damian scrunched his nose in disgust. “No, that simply wouldn’t do. What do you call your father?”

“Well, not Father , that’s for sure. He’s Italian, so I call him Papa, or Papi sometimes.”

“And he tolerates that?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t he?”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a Lieutenant General.”

Damian gasped. “And you call him Papa instead of Lieutenant?”

Smokes deadpanned. “You think I should call my own father Lieutenant?”

“Of course!”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Ok, you know what, let’s let this go for now. We’ll delve into this another time. Now, about your essay. Clearly, you did a lot of things. So what’s the issue? Why don’t you want to write the essay?”

Damian looked away sheepishly, still frowning slightly as he crossed his arms and sunk deeper into the couch.

Smokes nudged his shoulder softly, smiling at him. “Come on, you can tell me. What’s the matter?”

Damian groaned. “The teacher wants us to exchange our essays with other people in the class.”

“And…?”

“Well, I don’t want to share my family with other people.” He admitted quietly, still pouting. Oh . “My brothers are mine , and I don’t want anyone else reading about how great they are.”

“Oh, Dami.” She pulled him closer to her, and he didn’t balk away when she put her arm around him. “You’re not going to be sharing your family.”

“Of course I am! They’ll read my essay and be super jealous about how great they are, and then they’ll try to steal them from me.” He huffed angrily, shaking his head. “And I’m so sick I won’t be able to defend them. Hell, I can’t even go on patrol anymore!”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Patrol? What in the world are you patrolling?”

“Huh…” Damian froze, momentarily panicking. “The Manor! Obviously. You never know what kind of criminals could be lurking around here.”

“Right. Well, I don’t think you have much to worry about, Damian. Your brothers aren’t just going to be whisked away by your classmates.”

“They could be. They’re idiots.”

She snorted. “Sure, they can be a little… short-sighted sometimes, but they love you. They’re not just going to replace you with some other nine-year-old.”

“Richard would like to.”

His words were hushed, almost inaudible, and Smokes was so astonished she didn’t know what to say. Her earlier conversation with Jason flashed before her. Had he been right, then?

“What? Dick loves you.” She shook him gently, but Damian refused to meet her stare. “He would never replace you.”

“Yeah, he would. I may be the blood son, but Richard… Richard is Father’s real son. He’s kind and selfless, and he is a better version of him than all of us. I can’t compete with that.”

“You don’t have to compete with that. And stop saying that.” She playfully smacked his arm as Damian yelped. “There’s no such thing as blood son or real son or any of that crap. You’re all Bruce’s sons, blood relations or not. You’re all brothers. Dick loves you, and cares about you. I think it’s great that you see him like that, but you don’t have to be jealous of him. You’re kind and caring too.”

“Well, Richard doesn’t like me.”

She sighed. “Damian, of course Dick likes you.”

He pulled away from her, dramatically flailing his arms in the air. “Richard insists on taking me to gymnastics class every Thursday. It’s a father-son type thing, so he stays the whole time too. He’s an acrobat! And I’m really flexible too! Neither of us needs that class.”

Smokes blinked. “Just so we’re clear, you think Dick takes you to a gymnastics class because… he hates you?”

“Of course!” He exclaimed, nodding frantically. “This is clearly Father forcing him to spend time with me! Why else would he take me to a class that’s useless for both him and me?”

“Maybe because he actually wants to spend time with you?” Her suggestion startled him, his eyes softening as he considered it. “Maybe he’s taking you to gymnastics class because he loves you, and he wants to share something that makes him happy with you.”

“Oh.” He blinked a few times. “You really think so?”

She smiled at him gently. “I do. Dick talks about your gymnastics classes all the time. He talks about you all the time. He’s really proud of you, and he enjoys spending time with you.”

“Oh.” Damian paused, not knowing what to say anymore. He suddenly yawned, and Smokes chuckled as she ruffled his hair - he did not complain about the gesture.

“Someone’s tired, huh? All that fighting with your brothers must have exhausted you.”

“It’s not my fault they’re idiots.” He murmured as he laid down on the couch, placing his head on her lap. Smokes half froze at the gesture, eventually smiling as he nuzzled his head closer. She started gently threading her fingers in her hair and could have sworn the little boy purred in response.

There were a few minutes of silence, and Smokes was convinced he was asleep before he opened his mouth. “Smokes?”

“I thought you didn’t like nicknames.”

“Never mind.”

She giggled. “I’m kidding. What is it?”

“You… you’ll come back to visit, right?”

“Of course! You didn’t think you’d be getting rid of me that easily, did you?”

She felt Damian smiling in her lap. “No, of course not. I just… Kids at school don’t like me very much. So… It’s nice to have a friend.”

Her heart melted at that. “It’d be an honor to be your friend, Damian.”

She heard him sigh contently, eyes drooping with sleep. “Dick was right. You really are nice.” He murmured.

Smokes wanted to ask her what he meant by that but when she crouched forward she found him already fast asleep, faintly snoring.

Smokes could only smile at the sight, sitting back and tenderly brushing his hair out of his face.

Chapter Text

Dick had always fancied himself a charmer, a charismatic speaker who knew exactly what to say and when to say it when he wished to seduce a woman. He’d always fancied himself a smooth-talker, someone who delivered on his promises and ensured the pleasure of his partners. Not only that, but he’d always thought himself quite effective, most of his nightouts with the Team ending with him tangled in the sheets of some woman he’d picked up at whatever bar they’d been drinking at. 

The last time he’d slept with someone was on New Year’s Eve: a gorgeous, tall, blonde who’d fluttered her lashes at him for a solid thirty minutes before he made his move. And despite the hour of foreplay and flirting, despite the fleeting touches and teasing brushes, despite the way they’d tumbled frantically into her apartment, her bedroom, her bed… Something had been off. He knew he hadn’t delivered on his promises, not with the awkward gaze she’d given him the next morning when she’d kicked him out. He’d been off his game, and he hadn’t been able to figure out why.

Well. Now he knew. To be fair, he should have known, given that he’d been thinking about Smokes the whole time. Before he picked up the blonde, texting her to wish her a happy New Year, during the hookup, wondering what Smokes would make of his behavior and if she thought him a dog, and while the woman was sleeping beside him, replying to her texts and pictures.

He should have known. Truly. Although maybe it had been better when he didn’t know. Because now that he knew… he didn’t know what to do with it. Despite all his experience and usual confidence, when it came to Smokes, none of it mattered. Probably because his experience had never led to anything concrete, only casual hookups and relationships - with the exception of Barbara, and even that hadn’t ended well. And when it came to Smokes, Dick knew he didn’t want to follow the usual path; he didn’t want it to blow up in his face. He wanted to do it right.

And he had no clue how to go about it.

He’d spent the first week after the realization had struck him in a frenzied, panicked state, tripping constantly, tensing every time the woman merely looked his way, babbling to - unsuccessfully - mask his fluster. He knew Smokes had noticed from the way she glanced at him suspiciously, asking him multiple times if he was alright. Since he had no plan, and no idea what to do - did she feel the same way? Was this appropriate given that he was technically her boss? Did she see him like that? Was she even into men? - he’d swallowed and replied “ Of course. I’m great. ”

That was just about the plan so far: dealing with these feelings quietly while he tried to figure out what to do about them. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t going well).

He’d managed to more or less keep his feelings in check this past month, distracting himself with anything and everything, using friendly yet potentially flirtatious (upon interpretation) nicknames, teasing her like he always had - probably because he’d always been a goner, from the moment she’d stepped into his office and practically screamed at him that he was being scammed - and acting like nothing had changed.

He’d been surprisingly good at it, things settling down as usual and life picking back up. But today… god, today the universe was really testing him.

It had all started with Bruce’s phone call, a cry for help to deal with Damian’s sickness, and what had been supposed to be a quick, simple detour to Wayne Manor had turned into so much more. When Smokes had left the office that morning, Dick had expected Bruce to give him some more confidential details about the investigation, and he’d been wanting to talk to him about an important matter: but true to his word (a first), he’d handed Dick a gigantic stack of contracts to overview and sign, which had taken him far longer than he’d expected. He’d gone through the pile as quickly as he could, rushing to the kitchen… only to find Damian chugging down a green beverage like a frat boy, encouraged by Smokes and Alfred’s supportive “ Chug! Chug! Chug! ”s.

Now that wasn’t a sight he wasn’t expecting to see.

Then things had settled down, Damian miraculously keeping quiet about all Dick had told him about Smokes during their weekly gymnastics classes. For a split second, Dick had truly thought things would go smoothly.

That obviously hadn’t been the case. Damian had started his ruthless third-degree interrogation, which to Smoke’s credit she’d handled quite well, and then he’d started pressing about Oxford, ignoring all of Dick’s angry warnings, and Smokes had completely frozen… and so against his better judgment, he’d extended his hand to her thigh, squeezing gently and rubbing circles in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

He hated seeing her like that, like a deer caught in headlights, eyes watery and body so tense it looked like it was about to detonate. Smokes always made the same pained, anguished face when someone brought Oxford up, as if she was reliving every second of what had made her run away; and it broke his heart every single time.

It would’ve been so easy to just open up Bruce’s file on her and read what had happened; Tim had done it, Artemis too. But it would’ve been too easy, actually. Dick didn’t want to read it on a bland piece of paper lacking any and all emotions. He wanted to hear it from her. He wanted her to trust him enough to confide in him, and he was willing to patiently wait for her to be ready. And if the time never came, then that would be that and he would respect her wishes.

God, he was down bad.

So for now, all he could do was place his hand on her burning thigh, trying to ignore how much it meant to him and how little it probably meant to her. Removing his hand from her thigh had been physically straining, breathing shallow and hand trembling as he placed it back on the table.

Then there had been that conversation in his room, when he had gone to look for her because he’d been worried sick and because Damian had mentioned to him how she’d almost found the passage to the Batcave. Discussing his parents… Dick rarely ever talked about them. He’d only ever discussed them with Wally, because he’d trusted his best friend with his life, and with Jason, when he’d needed him to snap out of the Lazarus Pit’s hold. But with Smokes, it was different. He felt at ease, the grief settling comfortably over his heart like an afterthought. He couldn’t wait to take her to the circus, even though she’d probably have a heart attack at his performance. He wanted to share the things that made him happy with her, he wanted her to see herself the way he did. He was going to tell her that she was brave and generous every day for the rest of his life if that’s what it took.

The day had continued to be challenging, Dick’s non-existing ovaries practically exploding as he watched Smokes help Damian with his science homework in the library. She was so bright and serene and in her element and his heart was cartwheeling in his chest and-

Alfred had elbowed him and cleared his throat slyly while Dick turned bright red. Well. Apparently, he hadn’t been super subtle about his heart eyes.

Then he’d taken Damian to fetch his English textbook in his room, and his little brother had muttered “ She’s nice. I really like her. Don’t fuck it up. ” to him; if even Damian had noticed, then he really wasn’t being subtle about it. When they’d returned, he’d found Jason talking with Smokes, a weird expression on her face. He’d been on the verge of tackling his brother to ask what the fuck he’d said to upset her, but then Damian had dashed to her side and begged her to stay for dinner, and Smokes’ whole body had relaxed instantly as she looked at Dick for confirmation. 

So he’d just smiled and nodded, all murderous thoughts evaporating at the sight of her blinding, blissful smile, so at odds with the impassive, miserable expressions she’d bore the first few months he’d known her. 

He liked this version of her much, much better.

Dinner had been a whole different test, Dick’s heart imploding at the sight of Smokes at his family’s dinner table, chatting and laughing with everyone as if she’d always been there. As if she belonged with them. Would it be dramatic to just get on one knee and propose? Maybe. Probably. Most definitely. Dick just couldn’t think straight anymore, not with the way her eyes were twinkling and she was ruffling Damian’s hair and teasing Jason and Tim and… smiling at him. That pure, innocent smile was always directed at him.

This only served to further convince him about his resolution: and to make it happen, he needed to talk with Bruce.

Which was how he now found himself back in Bruce’s study, comfortably seated on one of the green leather chairs in front of his father’s desk. Bruce looked much better than the previous morning, Damian’s recovery clearly having lifted his spirits.

Bruce looked at him with his piercing green eyes. “I know what you want to talk about.”

Of course he did. This was going to make things much easier, he supposed. “Right. Well, I-”

“I just got word from Black Lightning. I wanted to discuss the new intel with you, actually.”

Dick blinked in surprise. That was… not what he wanted to talk about. “Huh, I mean, sure, but that’s not-”

But Bruce wasn’t listening, attention fully on his computer screen as he typed away on the keyboard. Once he found what he was looking for, he shifted the screen so that Dick could see the footage. “Black Lightning tracked down Wilson’s goons and the money they got from the Germans. They have another warehouse in the Southern part of the city, close to the port.”

Dick watched the video before him attentively. Black Lightning had been there the whole day, but the video he was watching was sped up. Men went in and out of the warehouse periodically, wearing sailor clothes and blending into the port’s crowd effortlessly. Two men always stood in front of the doors, guarding the money and whatever else they had stashed in there, and they switched every few hours from what he could tell. He instantly spotted handguns and knives hiding in their boots.

“They’re armed to the teeth.” He hissed, already analyzing every window and weak spot for an ambush.

“They are. Black Lightning said they patrolled the perimeter with rifles once it got dark. Whatever they’re hiding in there, it’s pretty huge. Not only that, but he called Rocket on the site and…” Bruce typed away, and a graph appeared, the curve frantically spiking up and down. “This is the concentration of boom particles inside the warehouse. They’re building another boom portal.”

“To complete their deal with the Germans?”

“Probably.”

Dick frowned. “But… we still have the Germans in custody, right?”

“Yes, we do.” Bruce nodded. “Maybe this time they’re communicating directly with MRE. Or the Germans have more accomplices and they’re communicating with them instead.”

Dick’s head was swimming as he put the pieces together. “Let me get this straight: the Germans were buying something from Wilson, and the League of Shadows by extent. Something they paid a lot of money for, and that is currently stashed away in that warehouse.”

“That would be correct.” Bruce sat back, crossing his arms as he waited for him to continue.

“But what does Wilson need the money for? The League of Shadows has never been short on funds. Even if Lex Luthor isn’t embezzling the UN’s funds anymore, Vandal Savage is loaded.”

“That we haven’t been able to figure out. And believe me, we’ve been trying. Halo, Beast Boy, and the Outsiders have been looking into it for days.”

Dick's brows shot up at that. If all of the Outsiders had been dispatched to work on this, then the Justice League must have been more worried about the matter than Bruce was letting on.

“Alright, what’s the plan then?”

“Lightning and Rocket are going to monitor the situation at the warehouse tonight and tomorrow, just in case one of the League’s important figures shows up. The Bats will strike tomorrow at 10:00 PM sharp.”

“Got it. Is Damian coming?” Damian had only been Robin for a year, and Bruce didn’t always include him on the more dangerous missions.

“We’ll see how he’s feeling. He’s going to put up a fight and demand to come regardless.”
Bruce shrugged, and Dick couldn’t help but smile. Knowing his little brother, he was probably going to stomp his feet and drive Alfred to the brink of insanity to get his way.

“Right. I’ll let Smokes know too, then.”

Bruce paused at that, his body going still as he raised his eyes to look into Dick’s. Dick frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“I just…” His father started, carefully picking his words. “I didn’t think Maverick would be accompanying us.”

Dick furrowed his eyebrows at Bruce’s hesitation. “Why not? She started this when we uncovered the labyrinth. It’s only fair that she gets to see us end it.”

“Yes, but… she’s a civilian.”

“I am aware. She was also a civilian when she entered the labyrinth, when she disabled the atomic bombs, when we rescued the Markovian metahuman refugees, when she stopped Slade from barging into our office, when she uncovered Dylan Crow’s scam.” He held up his fingers as he tallied everything Smokes had done in the short months she’d been working for him. “The list goes on really. So what’s the issue?”

“No, I know that, no need to sass me.” Bruce sighed, sitting back in his chair. “It’s just… if Maverick comes along, you won’t be able to help us as Nightwing.”

Ah. So this was what this was about. Well, this worked out in his favor he supposed, given that he’d wanted to speak to Bruce about this. “Right. Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Dick took a deep breath. “I think we should tell Smokes about our secret identities. About the Bats, the Justice League, all of it.”

A long, tense silence filled the room. Bruce held his stare, green eyes burning into Dick’s blue. His face was impassive, assessing his son with a cold, calculated gaze. Not the gaze of a father, he realized. No, it was the gaze of Batman.

“No.” 

Dick blinked at the frigid monosyllabic response, Bruce’s face unyielding as they continued staring at each other. “No?”

“You heard me.”

There was another beat of silence.

“Why not?”

His father shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He didn’t think it was a good idea? Was he being serious right now?

“That’s it?” Dick exclaimed angrily, his voice raising drastically with his sudden outburst. “You don’t think it’s a good idea and so we’re not even going to consider it?”

“Dick, listen, I-” Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples, but Dick was having none of it.

“Smokes has been invaluable these past few months! She comes along every day, she risks her life all the time during these missions!”

“Well that’s because you insist on having a civilian as an assistant-”

“I do not insist fucking shit! You and Alfred are the ones who hired her in the first place, and she isn’t just my assistant, she’s become a full-fledged investigator at this point, so do not insult her by diminishing her work like that.” Dick seethed, vision white with anger as he pointed an accusatory finger at Bruce. “Smokes knows the risks that come with the job, and she chooses to run them regardless. I trained her as best as I could so that she could defend herself. The woman walks around with a fucking taser, for heaven’s sake!”

“And you never thought it was strange?” Bruce’s casual, detached tone of voice did not reflect the expression on his face. He was practically burning his eyes into Dick’s skull.

Dick sat back, quieting down cautiously. “No.”

“A woman walks around the city with a taser in her handbag, and at no point did you think that it was odd?” His father questioned again, in a way that seemed to scream You’re a fool.

“We asked. She explained her dad was in the military.”

Bruce settled his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands together. “And you believed her?”

“I did. I do. Unlike some of us, I don’t have trust issues.” It was a low blow, Dick knew it, but he couldn’t help it. Not when it came to Smokes.

Bruce sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Dick, I understand why you would like to tell Maverick, but-”

“She dedicates so much of her own time and person to the cause, and she’s completely in the dark about everything!” Dick resumed his argument as soon as Bruce gave him an opening, jerking forward and flailing his arms in the air. “She deserves to know, more than anyone else. She deserves to know what happens behind the scenes, how we get our information, the whole picture! She deserves that, and you know it.”

“Dick.”

He barreled on. “And I get that it’s dangerous, and that she’s a civilian, but reducing her to a civilian is such an insult because she is so much more than that.”

“Dick.”

“She could contribute so much more, do so many more things with our tech and-”

“Dick!” He was startled by the way Bruce raised his voice, his mouth instantly closing as he waited for his father to speak. “Dick, the Justice League voted on the subject.”

Dick’s jaw fell open, brain unable to process the words that had just come out of Bruce’s mouth. “What? What do you mean you voted on the subject ?”

For the first time in his life, Bruce looked somewhat sheepish. “The subject was brought to the League’s attention, so we had a few meetings and voted on it. And-”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Bruce, the subject did not bring itself to the League’s headquarters, it doesn’t have fucking wheels.” If Dick had been angry before, it was nothing compared to the fury he felt coursing through his veins now. “Who the fuck brought it up?”

Another long, uncomfortable silence filled the room. Bruce was clearly hesitating, playing with his hands while Dick glowered with frustration.

“Just fucking tell me.” Dick drawled bitterly, though he suspected what Bruce’s answer would be.

“I… Tigress brought up the issue.”

Dick cursed. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” Of course it was fucking Artemis, who had been opposed to the idea from the start, fighting the notion so vehemently on Christmas Eve. He should have known she wouldn’t let it go. “Artemis has no idea what she’s talking about. Besides, when did you guys even vote?”

“Dick, really, I-”

But the more he thought about it, the more his blood boiled. Artemis had gone behind his back to ensure she got her way, somehow convincing the League of God only knows what.

“And why wasn’t I called? Why wasn’t I invited to this so-called vote?”

“Dick, you’re not an official member of the League, you don’t have a vote,” Bruce spoke sharply.

“But I should have still been notified that it was taking place! And besides, you and I both know that it’s utter bullshit! Why the fuck wouldn’t I have a vote on a matter that concerns my -” He stumbled on his sentence, suddenly at a loss for words. 

His what? Fake assistant? Glorified chauffeur? Woman he was in love with despite the fact it was a) highly inappropriate and b) a desperate cause? He should have been there, at that stupid fucking vote, because she was everything. He was the one working with her, getting all her laughs and smiles, and nobody had any business dictating what he should or shouldn’t tell her.

Dick inhaled slowly, looking for an appropriate word. Bruce was watching him carefully, eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. “ My partner. ” He eventually settled on, the word feeling right. She wasn’t an assistant or chauffeur or any of that crap. She was his equal, through and through. “She’s my partner, so I deserved a fucking vote on the matter.”

His father tapped his fingers against his desk, staring at the oak wood thoughtfully. “I understand your frustration, but that’s not how this works. The League voted, and it was decided that we wouldn’t give Maverick the clearance.”

Dick blew a raspberry, chuckling dryly as he settled back into his seat. “Let me guess, Artemis voted against giving her the clearance.”

“I… yes.”

Of course she had. He was going to set her on fire the next time he saw her, he-

He needed to know what the others had voted. “What about Raquel?”

“I… she voted in favor of giving her clearance.”

“Of course. What about… what about you? Tim? Zatanna? What about-”

“Dick!” Bruce interrupted, exhaustion dripping from his every feature. “Does it really matter?”

“Of course it fucking matters! How close was the vote? When are you going to take the next one? Why in the world would you vote against giving her clearance?”

“Dick! Enough!” Bruce’s voice roared throughout the room, interrupting his tangent of questions and effectively shutting him up. “Listen to me. The vote is done. Over. I don’t know when we’re going to reconsider the matter, but it’s not going to be anytime soon.”

Dick was raging in his chair, nostrils flared in pure anger. He’d been working on his pitch to Bruce for nearly two months now, ever since his fight with Artemis, putting evidence of Smokes’ hard work and merit together so that he could convince his father. He wanted to tell Smokes, more than anything in the world. He hated lying to her, keeping her in the dark, and she’d proved time and time again that she was trustworthy. But, of course, Artemis had overstepped him, taking matters into her own hands. She must have sensed he wouldn’t back down.

The room was awfully quiet as the two men continued to stare at each other, pure frustration coating Dick’s features while Bruce looked at him almost pityingly.

“Why didn’t the League give Maverick the clearance?” He finally asked after a few long, excruciating minutes. “What’s the issue?”

“I…” Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples again. His father looked older, more tired than usual. He was turning 49 in April, a fact Dick often forgot. Or refused to acknowledge, because the mere thought of Bruce retiring anytime soon was… unnerving. “Look, it’s not about Maverick’s accomplishments or trustworthiness. We were all very impressed with what she’s done these past few months.”

“So what’s the issue?” He repeated his question, though he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“Well, the League is worried about the potential fallout after what happened in Oxford. If he-”

“Enough.” Dick instantly interrupted. Bruce blinked in confusion. “I don’t know what happened in Oxford.”

He had never seen Bruce look more confused and shocked in his whole life, and they’d been through a lot together. “What do you mean you don’t know? Haven’t you read the file?”

Dick shook his head. “No. I haven’t.”

Bruce frowned. “Do you not have access to it? I can send it to you right now! Or, I can just tell you and-”

“No, Bruce, that’s not it.” He swiftly interrupted. “I have the file, I just haven’t read it.”

Bruce’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head, voice incredulous as he asked “Why not?”

Dick opened his mouth to reply… and then promptly closed it. What could he possibly say anyway? I’m in love and desperate and I’m hoping that she’ll trust me enough one day to tell me herself even though she barely trusts herself? That was the truth, but frankly, it sounded pathetic. And Bruce, the master of not respecting privacy probably wouldn’t get it anyway.

But Dick was adamant. Whatever had happened in Oxford had been terrible enough that Smokes had quit her job, packed her bags, and moved halfway across the world. Whatever had happened… it wasn’t good. Dick tried not to think about it too much, the mere thought of Smokes being in pain and lost and alone breaking his heart. But given how she’d worked a dummy job for a year, in an environment where everybody thought she was a whore without so much as batting an eye, Dick knew it must have been bad. And if Smokes eventually told him, and then found out that he’d known all along… she’d feel betrayed. He was sure of it. And that was the last thing he wanted.

He trusted her, with all his heart. And he hoped that one day she would trust him the same way he did.

Dick opened his mouth a few times to explain - or well, attempt to explain - this to his father, but his throat was dry and no words came out. Bruce watched him thoughtfully, green eyes searching his blue as he tried to piece it together. Dick saw the exact instant the realization hit him, eyes widening slightly then surprisingly softening as he took in his son.

A few more beats passed before he spoke again. “Tim mentioned something about this to me, but I didn’t realize it was so… serious.” 

Dick didn’t reply, didn’t have the words nor the strength to do so. His voice felt thick as he swallowed.

Bruce sighed for what felt like the hundredth time of the evening. “Look, I understand. Let me just… Let me put it differently. Maverick… she pissed off some pretty powerful people back in Oxford. The League is somewhat concerned that if they keep coming after her, she could unwittingly reveal your secret identity. Or that if she ever decided to work for them again, she might share this information with them to further her position.”

Dick’s mind could barely form a coherent thought as Bruce revealed this to him. He was desperately trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, to no avail. Smokes had pissed off powerful people? Well, kowing her temper, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But who had she pissed off? Why were they coming after her? What had really happened in Oxford?

“Smokes would never reveal our secret.”

“I know, Dick, believe me. I argued as much. Given what happened, I don’t think she’d ever go back and work for them again. But they are pissed at her. Royally so. And if they start suspecting something is off with her job, with our family… then they could find out. Extort it out of her.” Extort it? Who were these people? “That’s why the League voted against giving her the clearance.”

Dick blinked, switching sitting positions every few seconds, unable to sit still. What was he supposed to do with this information? How was he supposed to keep living normally when he knew for a fact that dangerous people were going after Smokes?

Bruce’s eyes were full of tenderness as he addressed his son. “I’m sorry, Dick.”

Dick nodded, standing up abruptly, fists clenched tightly. “I hope you know I’m not just going to accept this.”

Bruce nodded, resigned, as if he’d known this would be his reaction. “I know.”

“I’m going to fight this vote. With everything I have.” Dick added coldly, heading for the door.

“I suspected as much.”

Dick stopped in the doorway, back to Bruce as he considered everything that he’d just found out. Smokes deserved to know the truth, first and foremost. His feelings could wait until this issue was sorted.

“Dick? Just… be careful, alright?” His father’s voice called quietly. 

Dick didn’t answer as he closed the door behind him.

He needed to send some emails.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Dick took a ten-minute walk around the manor, wandering to cool his nerves and send one angry email to Artemis before he headed for the Manor’s library. Smokes had offered to help Damian write the infamous English essay, and they should have been done by now. Besides, it was nearly 9 PM and time to head home.

He found the doors to the library open, and his eyes instantly looked for Smokes and Damian. He stopped abruptly when he finally found them, breath caught in his throat as he stared at the scene.

They were sitting on the couch - or, to be more accurate, Smokes was sitting on the couch, Damian’s head in her lap while the little boy slept peacefully. She was skimming a book with one hand, her other hand always resting on Damian’s hair and her fingers threading through it mindlessly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The moonlight shining through the open windows illuminated them, Smokes’ brown hair shimmering under the beam of light.

Dick could only blink at the scene, and- oh yeah, his imaginary ovaries were at it again. The butterflies weren’t just fluttering in his chest, they were fucking somersaulting, and he really needed to get a hold of himself because he couldn’t just fold every time he saw the woman with a child.

He stood quietly for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful scene. Damian looked so relaxed, so happily sleepy, and Smokes… she looked like she belonged there. Like she’d always been there.

Yup, imaginary ovaries were definitely tripping.

Eventually, after a few deep breaths to calm his thundering heart and sweaty palms, he cleared his throat faintly and walked towards the couch. Smokes’ head shot up in surprise, face softening when her eyes landed on Dick.

“Hi.” She spoke in a low voice, probably to avoid waking Damian up.

Dick smiled. “I see the gremlin passed out.”

“Oh, yeah. Dami was exhausted. And who can blame him after the day he had.” Smokes snorted.

“Did he at least write the English essay?”

“Nope.” She popped the word, struggling to keep her giggles in as Dick shook his head.

“Of course he didn’t. This was one big scheme to not write the essay. He’s probably not even asleep.”

Smokes glanced at Damian, lips twitching upwards as she interlaced her fingers in his hair and caressed the boy’s head tenderly. “No, I don’t think so. He was genuinely tired. I did get to the bottom of the mystery, though. Apparently, the teacher wants them to share their essays and he doesn’t want the rest of the class to know how cool his brothers are.” She raised her head and laughed at his unconvinced expression. “His words, not mine.”

Dick sighed. That kid… Damian liked to act tough, but he was a big old softie like the rest of them. Whatever Talia had done to him, it had left his mark on the child, and undoing the damage was a hard task. But Dick wasn’t one to easily give up.

“He’s obstinate, and a bit of a goblin sometimes, but he does care about us. Well, at the very least about Tim and Jason.” He added the last sentence pensively, not really dwelling on the words.

Damian and Jason had always been close. Whatever they’d gone through together under the al Ghuls had bonded them in ways neither Dick nor Bruce would ever comprehend. Neither of them ever spoke about what happened during those years - Damian had only been 4 when they’d gotten him back after all - but judging from Jason’s irreversibly scarred hands and the long scar above Damian’s pelvis, it hadn’t been pretty.

Dick still remembered the day they’d gotten him back. The whole Bat-family standing in front of the Lazarus Pit, Jason having finally snapped out of his murderous rage after Dick had told him he loved him and gotten through to him, Talia standing on the other side with Damian in her arms. She’d sneered at Jason’s decision to go back with them, declaring that “he was nothing but a waste of the Pit’s powers” and that “a traitor like him was not worth her time”. But when it came to Damian, she’d been too arrogant, too zealous. She’d placed her son down on the ground between the Bats and the al Ghuls, telling him to choose between his two families.

Damian hadn’t even hesitated. His little legs had run straight for them, throwing himself onto Dick’s thigh and clinging to him as if his life depended on it. He’d looked his mother right in the eyes and said “ Dick ”. 

And that had been that. A little more fighting and Talia had left.

Dick still remembered how they’d gone home all together that night, snuggling on the couch in the cinema room and falling asleep in the most uncomfortable position he’d ever slept in. But things had felt right, then. The following few years had been complicated, and it had taken a lot of therapy and counseling for their family to feel like a family again. But they’d worked through it. Jason had been sentenced at the World Court and given probation to redeem himself in Bruce’s custody, and he’d become Red Hood. Damian had taken on Robin’s mantle a few years later. They were healing, and that was all that mattered.

Smokes frowned. “Damian cares about you.”

Dick winced. “No, I know. Or, well, I think so? I hope so.”

Damian might’ve clung to him that day, but patching up their relationship had been harder than expected. There had been - and still were - so many feelings and struggles related to Bruce and the family, and it had taken a while for them to work through them all. But they’d reached a balance and found their way eventually.

“I literally just had this conversation with Damian.”

“What conversation?”

“The I think my brother hates me conversation.”

“Damian thinks I hate him?” Dick sputtered in surprise while Smokes nodded solemnly.

“Yup. He said that you take him to a gymnastics class neither of you need every Thursday evening, and thus you must hate him.”

Dick deadpanned. “Damian thinks I hate him because I take him to gymnastics class?”

Smokes raised her hands in the air. “His words, not mine.”

“Please tell me you told him-”

“Don’t worry, I told him that it was ridiculous and that you love him very much and can’t stop talking about him. Which is what I’m going to tell you as well. Damian doesn’t hate you, far from that. He won’t shut up about you. You’re his hero. So stop being doubting yourself, you’re doing great.”

Dick grinned. Only Smokes could reassure him and scold him in the same sentence. It’s not that he truly thought Damian hated him but the little boy had made it pretty clear early on that he resented him. A part of Dick had always been scared that he wouldn’t get over it, that they’d never move past it. But if what Smokes was saying was true…

“Thank you.” He eventually said, sparkling blue eyes meeting her brown.

“All in a day’s work. I think I deserve a promotion to glorified babysitter now.”

Dick snorted. “Make sure to add it to your resume.”

“Will do. Speaking of-” A ringtone interrupted her sentence, and Dick instantly started looking for his phone. He patted his pockets, finding the device in his front left one, but he was surprised to find its screen completely dark. 

He turned to Smokes, confused, and found the young woman reaching for her own phone. She frowned as soon as she saw who the caller was, and Dick knew what was happening then.

This wasn’t the first time Smokes received peculiar phone calls. There had been that first time back in October at the Nest, when she had finally opened up about her situation at the office, but that had been far from the last. Every few weeks or so, Smokes received these calls that set her off and made her tense. She always grew antsy when she received them, promptly turning them down and sometimes even turning off her phone. Dick was 99% sure it had something to do with Oxford, but every time he asked about it she brushed him off and shut him down, and he’d never been able to figure out who was bothering her.

Dick watched as she bit her lip, furrowing her eyebrows some more, before decidedly refusing the call, silencing her phone and putting it back in her pocket. She looked back at him, smile thin as she cleared her throat. 

“Sorry about that.” She muttered sheepishly, and Dick didn’t know what to make of any of it. Of the phone calls, of her reaction, of Oxford…

“Don’t worry about it.” He replied swiftly. “Anyways, I came looking for you because we just got new intel regarding the investigation.”

“Oh?” She raised her brown, visibly relieved at the change of subject.

“Yup. We found the warehouse where Slade is stashing the money and whatever he’s selling to the Germans. We’re breaking in tomorrow night.”

Smokes frowned. “We?”

“The Bats.” Dick amended, hoping their mention wouldn’t raise too much suspicion. “You and I are going to stay in the car and watch the fight from afar.”

“Hm, sounds reasonable. Let the vigilantes do all the dirty work while we sit back and relax.”

Dick smiled at her joke, but his mind was elsewhere.

Bruce was right, bringing Smokes along meant he wouldn’t be able to help the others as Nightwing. It wasn’t a huge problem per se, but it wasn’t ideal either. He needed to find a way to convince the League to give Smokes the clearance to reveal his secret identity to her. But to do that, to help her…

He had to know what had transpired in Oxford.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

OBJECT: I won’t give up.

Dear Artemis,

Fuck you.

Sincerely,

Richard Grayson

Chapter Text

As much as Smokes loved her new job, if there was one thing she’d never learned to appreciate, it was stakeouts. 

Stakeouts, by definition, just meant sitting on your ass and doing nothing. She could barely sit still for seven seconds, and after spending a whole year working the most mindnumbing job in the history of mindnumbing jobs, the mere idea of stakeouts made her uneasy. Luckily for her, Dick and the vigilantes he - rarely - worked with took care of that most of the time.

However, tonight was different. Dick and Smokes were both sitting in her little red car, parked a safe distance from the warehouse where Wilson’s goons were keeping the money and building a new boom tube, waiting patiently for the Bats to storm the building and apprehend the criminals. Dick was holding a walkie-talkie in his right hand, waiting for Batman’s reports, his eyes riveted to the warehouse’s entrance. Smokes nervously tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, watching the eerily quiet port with impatience.

“You’re not very good at this,” Dick stated after a few minutes of silence, voice dripping with amusement.

Smokes turned her head to glare at him. “You mean at sitting around and doing nothing while the big bad vigilantes take care of everything?”

“Yes, or alternative speaking, sitting safe and sound while the generous, selfless vigilantes do all the dirty work for us.” He quipped, and she could only roll her eyes at that. His deep, rich laughter filled the car.

“Sounds like vigilante propaganda. Did they pay you to say that?”

Dick snorted. “Oh, I wish. I’m afraid it’s all me.”

There were a few beats of silence, during which Dick studied her carefully, gaze lingering on her face far longer than it ever had. Smokes swallowed and turned away, focusing once again on the warehouse. They were parked a couple hundred feet away from the building itself but the moonlight shone right onto it, highlighting every detail. The ocean water rumbled softly in the distance, two lamp posts illuminating the entrance, fireflies and various bugs flying under them. Two perps patrolled the perimeter, walking around that corner every few minutes or so.

“You really don’t like sitting still and waiting, huh?” Dick’s voice interrupted her analysis of the scene.

“Nope. I’m more of a proactive kind of person.” Her eyes didn’t leave the warehouse.

“Yes, I’ve noticed.”

Smokes frowned, whipping her head around in indignity. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, in the few months I’ve known you you’ve managed to throw yourself head first into life-threatening situations with a surprising, and might I say concerning, efficiency.” Dick teased, grin growing wider as she glared at him.

“Ha. Ha. Ok, I get it, very funny.”

“See, you say that, but I actually don’t find it funny.” His tone was still playful, and he let out a strangled laugh when she smacked his arm. “I feel like I age 10 years every time you do something dangerous.”

She deadpanned. “If that were true, you’d be dead by now.”

“Again - don’t hit me,” He held his hands up in surrender, a shit-eating grin coating his features, “But that’s more alarming than you realize. When it comes to fight or flight, you don’t ever hesitate to fight.”

“Well, of course, nothing good ever comes out of flight.” She replied quickly, though her mind was elsewhere. 

She’d always been a fight type of a person, never backing down, never giving up. Especially when he-

Smokes shuddered, chasing the image away. This was not the time to reminisce about that. About Oxford, about that night when everything had come crashing down and her life had changed forever. She’d fought back then too, of course, and what good had that brought her? Then again, fleeing Oxford hadn’t exactly done her any good either. Not until she’d met Dick. Truly met him.

She cleared her throat, hoping Dick hadn’t noticed her sudden silence. One look at him was enough to confirm that he, unfortunately, had read her like an open book and knew something was up. His eyebrows were creased, mouth pressed into a thin line as he stared right at her.

Waiting for her to speak. To elaborate. To say something, anything.

She didn’t know what to say.

Silence filled the car for a few moments.

Dick eventually sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Smokes, listen, I-”

“Grayson, Batman here. Do you copy? Over.” The walkie-talkie suddenly crackled in his hand, startling both of them.

Dick cursed, clearly frustrated by the interruption, and broke his stare to look at the warehouse. “I’m here. Are you guys getting ready to go in? Over.”

Batman’s response came almost instantly.“Yes, we’re going in soon. 30 seconds. Stay put, and we’ll send someone when the coast is clear. Over.”

“Message received. We’ll be on standby. Over.” Dick’s voice was firm, and Smokes was stunned by how natural he sounded. He looked so accustomed to everything, like he’d done this a thousand times before. Dick turned back to her, furrowing his eyebrows. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, it’s just… I can’t believe you speak to Batman so casually.”

“Ah, well…” Dick chuckled awkwardly, playing with the walkie-talkie in his hands. “I’ve huh… dealt with him a few times over the years.”

“Still, you speak to him like you know him personally. I don’t think most PIs in Gotham can say the same.”

Dick winced at her statement, looking away. “You have no idea,” He muttered under his breath.

His comment gave her pause, and she was about to question him when four figures appeared out of thin air. They were standing on the rooftop of the building in front of the warehouse, the tallest figure giving silent orders with his arms while the others moved around him faster than lightning.

Dick whistled, smirking slightly. “There they are.”

Indeed, there they were. Smokes soon identified the figures: the tallest one was Batman himself, hiding in the shadow of the bulkhead. She’d never seen Gotham’s first vigilante before, but even from a distance, she couldn’t deny he was quite imposing. The two slightly less taller figures were Red Hood and Red Robin, whom she’d met back at the labyrinth. They were both sprinting on either side of the rooftop, leaping from it and landing gracefully on the warehouse’s roof. Red Robin landed with a somersault, while Red Hood showed off with a back handspring that made Dick click his tongue and shake his head. The fourth and final figure peeked from behind Batman’s cape, tiny feet dashing as it bounced from side to side and landed on top of piled crates.

Smokes squinted her eyes at the fourth figure. It was… “Holy shit, is that a child?” The kid couldn’t have been older than ten, clad in a red and green suit and a black cape similar to Batman’s.

“That’s Robin,” Dick explained as they watched him motion at Batman that the coast is clear.

“He’s a child!” 

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but most superheroes start at a young age. Red Robin and Red Hood wore the Robin mantle at a young age too before finding their own identity.”

“Still, I…” She tilted her head to get a better look. Batman jumped and landed on the ground next to the pile of crates. The two perps patrolling rounded the corner, and he took them out with terrifying rapidity, Robin knocking out one of them with his baton from his elevated position. “He looks tiny.”

“Don’t be fooled, that child is a menace.”

“Sounds like he’d get along with Damian.” She smiled slightly as she watched Batman ruffling Robin’s hair. The kid jerked away from his touch and then sneezed loudly in his sleeve.

Last night they’d tucked Damian into bed before leaving the Manor. Dick had picked up Damian’s sleepy frame from the couch, wrapping his legs around his chest so that he could carry him up the stairs and to his room. Even drowsy and half-asleep, Damian had protested a little, grumbling some incoherent “Richard! Let me go this instant!”s and feebly kicking his feet. Dick had turned to Smokes, smiling and shaking his head, before planting another soft kiss in the little boy’s hair.

Her heart softened at the thought of the boy. He was probably tucked in bed now, safe and sound at the Manor; Alfred had called earlier that morning to say that the young master was feeling better, and Smokes truly hoped he’d be back in full health soon.

“You have no idea,” Dick muttered in response for the second time of the night, engrossed in the scene playing out in front of them. Batman and Robin had moved each to one side of the warehouse’s entrance, while Red Hood and Red Robin prepared to break into the building from the roof.

Smokes recounted the figures, frowning. “Hold on a minute. Where’s your buddy Nightwing?”

“Aww, are you worried about him?” Dick teased, dodging her hand when she tried to smack his arm. “I’ll make sure to let him know you immediately noticed his absence.”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. Those two together were insufferable. Well, now that she thought about it, she’d never actually seen them together. But they somehow always seemed to communicate with each other, sharing tips and tricks on how to best piss her off.

“No, seriously, where is he?”

“It’s his night off.”

There was a beat of silence as Smokes deadpanned.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You must be.” Smokes narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and Dick couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“I’m not! I promise. It’s his night off.”

“Just so we’re clear, you’re meaning to tell me that unlawful vigilantes have nights off?” Her astonishment, for some reason, sent him into another laughing fit.

“Well, yes. I know you were willing to sacrifice his Christmas so that I could rest, but vigilantes have to take time off too.” He prodded, bumping his shoulder into hers playfully.

“No, I get that, I just thought… I don’t know, I figured they took breaks when they collapsed from exhaustion. I certainly didn’t think they had set nights off, like an actual job.” She groaned when he started laughing again.

“Right. Of course. Says the woman who has every night of the week off.”

Smokes nodded solemnly. “You are quite flexible with my work hours.”

It was true: Smokes went to pick Dick up at his apartment every morning at 9, and then they drove off to the Nest or wherever their investigations took them that day. She normally dropped him off between 5 and 6 in the evening and then headed home herself. Not to mention, she never worked the weekends, and Dick hadn’t so much as batted an eye when she’d taken two weeks off for Christmas. Even back at the office, Jessica had been incredibly flexible with her days off, letting her leave for almost two months during the summer.

“That I am.” Dick snorted, tapping his fingers nervously on the side door. Oh. That was his tell for when he was going to broach an uncomfortable subject. “What about in Oxford?”

Smokes slowly jerked backward, blinking at him in confusion. “What about Oxford?”

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, eyes darting around the car. “How was your schedule back in Oxford?”

“I…” There was a long, tense pause. Her breathing had become ragged, but at least the bile wasn’t there yet. Breathe, Smokes, breathe. He wasn’t asking about that, he was just asking about her life back then. She could do this. “Well, certainly more packed than this. I spent my days engrossed in my research, and most of my nights ended in our team’s lab.” She stumbled over the last word, trying to chase the image away from her mind. Labs were fine. She’d spent endless hours in labs, she couldn’t let what had happened that night tarnish her image of them forever.

If Dick noticed her stumble, he didn’t point it out. “Ah. Sounds like your boss wasn’t as nice as I was.”

“He wasn’t.” She replied slowly, lowering her head to the steering wheel, unable to blink the images away this time. Unable to forget what had happened that night; the way she’d been minding her own business, and then those big, disgusting hands on her hips, that firm, bruising grip holding her down, the struggle, the tears, the pleas, the screams, the-

“Smokes.” Dick’s voice called, shaking her out of her trance and interrupting the unstoppable cascade of images. 

She raised her head to look at him and immediately regretted it. The pained expression on his face broke her heart; the way his big blue eyes betrayed his worry and fear for her, eyebrows furrowed in so much concern she didn’t know how to handle. The worst part of it, ironically, was the total lack of pity in his gaze. Dick always looked at her like that, like he understood. If he’d pitied her, at least, it would have been easier to hate him and push him away. But the man was too empathetic for his own good, too patient, too kind, too… too everything. It was almost unnerving, because she didn’t deserve his kindness, and she didn’t know what to do with it.

Part of her screamed at her brain to just tell him, to let it out and be done with it and let him handle the aftermath. But the other part, the part that was still terrified and hurt and untrusting, the part that still made the bile rise in her throat every time she tried to voice her feelings… that part was still bleeding. That part of her still felt worthless and scared. That part of her still wasn’t ready.

Dick placed his warm, calloused hand on her shoulder, but Smokes flinched instinctively before she had time to realize it was him. Dick immediately removed his hand like he’d been burned, which was now awkwardly hovering between the two of them, and the way his face contorted in confusion and hurt… Smokes couldn’t stand it.

“I’m so sorry, Dick, I-”

“Smokes, I’m sorry I-”

They both started, going quiet when they realized they were talking over each other. Dick’s face broke into a small, awkward smile, and Smokes was relieved to return the gesture.

They stared at each other for a few more beats before she found the courage to speak. “I’m sorry, Dick, you just startled me.”

The man instantly shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I was just… I was just trying to reassure you. That’s all.”

Of course he was. She wasn’t even surprised, she’d already known. Jason had told her something she perhaps wasn’t ready to hear: no matter how many times she turned down Dick’s help, no matter how many times she shut him out and refused to share her troubles with him, he would always come back. He was always there, ready to comfort and reassure her. He was ready to help her; he had been for a while.

It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t.

She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “I know, Dick, I know. I was just a bit lost in thought, that’s all.”

“I know.” He chuckled at her incredulous expression, though it sounded fake compared to his usual childlike giggles. “I know you. You always make the same face when you’re thinking too hard.”

Her body relaxed at their easy, familiar banter, and she smiled sheepishly.

Another long silence settled between the two of them, and they turned their attention to the warehouse. The Bats had already gone inside, and they could hear the faint sound of fighting even from the car. Flashes and bullets and small explosions could be seen in the distance, a cloud of smoke steaming from the roof of the warehouse, perps running in and out hurriedly. Judging from their panicked expressions, the Bats were having a field day with them.

“Do you miss it?” Dick eventually broke the silence.

Smokes frowned, turning back to him. “Miss what?”

“Oxford. Your research. Your old life.” He drawled the words quietly, cautiously, as if he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to ask.

She exhaled sharply, nervously playing with her hands resting on the steering wheel as she willed her mind to calm down. Breathe, Smokes, breathe. She could do this. She could talk about this with Dick. Her life in Oxford hadn’t been all bad, far from that, and it was unfair to let one bad memory shadow the rest.

“I…” She had to exhale and inhale a few more times, under Dick’s attentive, caring gaze. “Sometimes. Mostly the first year I was here. You weren’t exactly the best of bosses, no offense.”

He seemed to melt at the joke, relieved to hear her playful tone, and grinned back. “None taken. The criticism is understandable.”

“Yeah, well… that year was hard. I missed Oxford a lot then. Oxford is quaint, and cute, and everything is within a ten-minute walk. It’s a student city, so it’s vibrant and alive and there’s an endless sea of things to do. One of my best friends, Cora, lives there too, and our other best friend Ember lives in London, so she spent most weekends with us.” Her voice softened at the thought of her two best friends.

She’d been unfair to them, pushing them away time and time again when they’d tried to reach out and help. Despite their efforts, she’d pushed them away so efficiently and firmly that she was surprised they still bothered to call. It wasn’t their fault she was physically incapable of opening up, even to the people who best knew her.

But Smokes continued, tongue finally loose after years of quiet and fear. “And then, of course, there’s my research. That… that I still miss sometimes. It’s hard to explain but…”

How could she put it into words? How could she explain that she’d dedicated her whole life to quantum physics? She’d sacrificed hours and hours to study, had given her blood, sweat, and tears to be accepted into the Masters program at Oxford, and even more to deserve her spot in the PhD program. She’d given it her all. Everything she’d had, everything she’d been, it had always been for quantum physics. And just when she'd grasped her dream, just when she’d landed her dream job in the lab of a fucking Nobel Prize winner… she’d lost everything just as quickly as she’d gotten it.

“Physics is kind of a family thing. My grandpa was a physics professor, my dad joined the military as a scientific expert after completing his PhD, my little brother is finishing his physics Masters at Cambridge this year, and…”

“Ah. So being a nerd is a family trait, then.”

Smokes blinked in astonishment, mouth hanging open slightly at Dick’s joke. He was… He was joking. About Oxford. She was joking about Oxford. She was talking about Oxford, and what perhaps was the most traumatic event of her life, and she didn’t feel like running. 

No, she was joking about it. She was laughing. The realization made her want to cry.

Her face broke into a giggle, and it took her multiple minutes to calm down. When she looked over at Dick, she was pleased to find his smile was just as wide as hers, Grayson dimples on display and so damn pretty.

“Yes, you can put it that way. My dad was my hero when I was a kid, and all I wanted was to be just like him. I was five and I was already running around saying I wanted to get a PhD in physics. So letting that go…” Her breathing became shallow, eyes watering despite her best efforts to compose herself. “Letting that go was probably the most painful thing I ever had to do.”

Silence followed her words. Dick shifted slightly, his body fully facing hers as his blue eyes bore into her soul. Smokes knew what he was going to ask even before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Have you ever thought about going back?”

Smokes desperately wanted to tear her eyes away from his, but her body froze. Her every muscle tensed, alarms blaring in her mind because she knew exactly where this conversation was going. She didn’t know if she was ready to have it, didn’t know if she was ready for Dick to look at her differently.

“I can’t.” She murmured after a few painful moments of silence, voice thick and throat dry.

Dick’s gaze was still burning into her skull, eyes determined but voice gentle and understanding. “Why not?”

“I just…” Her voice wobbled, and she had to swallow to continue. “I can’t.”

“Smokes. Why can’t you go back?”

Silence. Dick was still looking at her like that, like he always did, like they were the only two people in the world and he was made solely for her. To understand her, help her, be there for her.

She couldn’t stand it. Not when she knew what her answer would be.

It took herculean effort to tear her gaze away from him, and Smokes shifted her body to face the steering wheel and the warehouse’s entrance. Screams and cries could still be heard from the battle, but they were only a distant sound to her. Smokes felt like she was underwater, her head swimming and nausea filling her every sense.

“What happened in Oxford, Smokes?”

Despite her fuzzy vision and her ears ringing, Smokes heard Dick’s voice clear as day. It was perhaps the only thing tethering to reality, the only thing that could break through the avalanche of painful memories and the sheer fear taking over her body.

Smokes felt like she was choking, stomach hollowing out uncomfortably, every limb and muscle aching and screaming in distress. She could barely breathe, heart pounding violently in her chest and each one of her breaths coming out ragged as she closed her eyes and rested her head against her seat’s headrest.

Minutes passed before she finally got a hold of herself, before she was finally able to open her eyes and glance at Dick. Before she was able to respond, knowing well that her answer wouldn’t satisfy him. Or her.

“I… it’s complicated.”

Silence.

Utter silence.

The car was so eerily quiet as her voice cracked and the words left her mouth in a hushed, anguished whisper. But what was worse, perhaps, was the hurt that flashed across Dick’s face. His whole face betrayed his disappointment, his worry, and how hurt he was that she didn’t trust him enough to confide in him. The sight broke her heart. It made her want to puke.

She wanted to trust him. God, she did trust him. But this was… this was so much bigger than her, than him, than them. She wouldn’t even know where to start.

Smokes watched as the pang of hurt disappeared from his face, every feature hardening into an impassive facade. His eyes dimmed, a muscle ticked in his jaw, his mouth pressed into a thin line and oh god she’d messed it all up. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down slowly, his fists clenching and unclenching and she knew him well enough to know just how hurt he was right now.

The realization sobered her up, her whole body tensing with panic as she turned to him again. “Dick, I-”

“It’s ok. I understand.” His voice was so cold, so hurt, so different from his usual warmth and reassuring tones. His blue eyes looked frigid, distant, and she didn’t know how to make it right.

“No, Dick, I-”

“It was unfair of me to ask. I’m sorry.” He shook his head, solemnly, and the worst part was that he truly believed it.

She felt the bile rising again and her eyes watered as he shrugged her off. “Dick, just wait, I-”

“Smokes, it’s fine, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” The words came out sterner than she’d intended, but it was the only way to stop Dick. They did startle him, blue eyes widening slightly as he took in her resolve. She exhaled once, just the one time she needed to tell Dick that he wasn’t the problem. She was. 

“I… It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just that physically I… I can’t.” She paused, words wobbly and teary, and the way Dick was looking at her was shattering her heart again. “I wish I… I wish I could, but I’m just… I’m so tired, Dick. I’m so, so tired.” Her voice broke at that, and Dick winced. Winced. 

“For the first time in two years, I finally feel like I’m living again, like maybe I’m moving on. And I’m scared that if I open this can of worms again, if I speak it back into existence… I’m scared that I’ll never get over it. I can’t… I can’t go through it all again.” She shook her head, and now she was sure that her eyes were tearing up. Her lower lip was trembling frantically, every limb in her body was shaking and screaming and her throat was so dry she could barely muster the energy to form the words. But she had to do it. For Dick. She owed him that. 

So she barreled on. “I can’t do that. I… it almost killed me the first time, and I don’t think I’d survive it this time. Not when I… when you showed me what it feels like to live again. I can’t lose that. I can’t do it again. I just… I can’t.”

She did her best to muster up a watery smile, to try and convey just how grateful she was for him, how much she did care about him and admire him.

Because it was true. Dick had shown her what it was like to live again, what it was like to help people and do something good for others while also living and having fun. He’d taken her in with no hesitation, had removed her from that office where she’d been slowly dying for a year, and had shown her what it was like to care. To live. To love.

He was the reason why getting out of bed every morning didn’t feel like an impossible feat anymore, the reason why every day no longer felt monotone and bland, the reason why she didn’t feel like she was withering away with every passing second with no way to save herself.

She wasn’t sure if he knew that. She wanted him to know that, it just… it was hard to put into words, hard to prove when she still didn’t know how to tell him about Oxford.

Her head had moved closer to Dick’s instinctively and it wasn’t until she felt Dick’s breath fanning her face that she realized just how close they were. Dick’s blue eyes were still searching her face, brows creased, but his face wasn’t filled with hurt or confusion anymore. No, it was different.

Smokes could barely move, barely breathe as she watched Dick open his mouth, tilting closer.

“Smokes, I-”

BANG.

Both Dick and Smokes startled, jumping high in their seats as the whole car shook. Their heads both whipped to the front windshield, surprised to find Red Hood standing right before them, hands on hips after having slammed his fists into the car's hood. He was tapping his foot impatiently on the ground, and she could make out his scowl even under the red mask.

“If you guys are done flirting with each other, the fight ended a lifetime ago. Batman is about to open the crates with the merchandise.”

“Red Hood, what the fucking hell?” Dick cursed, abruptly tearing away from her and opening the car door. He slammed the door and cursed some more, walking to Red Hood and gently pushing him, and Smokes couldn’t help but smile.

Red Hood turned to her. “Come on, sweetheart, time to open the mystery boxes. Ow!” He winced when Dick smacked his head so hard he nearly hit the car hood. Dick hissed something under his breath that she couldn’t make out from the driver’s seat.

Smokes quickly got out of the car and followed the two men down the alleyway and into the warehouse. All of the perps were gagged and tied up, Red Robin and Robin wiping the blood off their batons while Batman readied himself to unscrew the lids off the crates. Police sirens could already be heard in the distance, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they needed to leave.

The Bats, Dick, and Smokes all gathered around Batman as he kneeled on the floor and used some sort of weapon she didn’t recognize to open the box. He slid the lid off rather unceremoniously, the whole gang bending forward over his shoulders to get a better look at what Slade Wilson was selling the Germans.

“Weapons.” Dick cursed under his breath while Batman carefully picked one.

But these weren’t just any weapons. No, these were Nakamura’s atomic weapons.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The following day, Smokes and Dick drove back to Wayne Manor to visit Damian, who was in much better spirits now that he was fully healed. They hadn’t heard anything else from the Bats: after finding out Wilson was collaborating with Nakamura, Batman had mentioned something about having to pay Kenji Nakamura a visit at Gotham State Penitentiary and then they’d all left in a hurry before the police arrived.

They’d certainly made progress: they now knew that the Germans were buying weapons from Wilson, probably to aid Markovia in its war against its neighbors and to protect the metahumans whom had taken refuge there. But there were still many questions unanswered. Why did Slade Wilson own Nakamura’s atomic weapons? And, most importantly, what was he planning on doing with all the money from the bank robbery?

The Bats had many theories, but no solid proof to bust Wilson. They were back to square one.

Not only that, but Smokes didn’t know what to do about Dick. He’d been awfully quiet when she’d driven home last night, clearly lost in thought, but now he was back to his usual, cheery self, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t know if it was all just an act or if he was secretly angry with her. Didn’t know why he’d moved so close to her, what he'd been planning on telling her before Red Hood interrupted. (Basically, she knew nothing, and it terrified the hell out of her).

They spent the morning at Wayne Manor, Damian waiting for them on the front steps and faking a scowl when Dick picked him up and asked him “Aww, were you waiting for us? ” (which, of course, Damian denied with every bone in his body). They ate lunch with Bruce and Alfred, teasing Damian about his imminent return to school now that he was feeling fine. The little boy took the jokes surprisingly well, seated between Dick and Smokes and glancing at the two with the biggest smile on his face.

That smile disappeared when they declared they had to leave a mere hour after the end of the meal.

Damian was pouting on the Manor’s front steps, Alfred standing behind him solemnly with a hand on his shoulder.  Smokes crouched to the boy’s level, smiling. “Well, what’s that angry face for?”

“You should stay until dinner.” Damian huffed, kicking up some dust with his feet.

“Damian, I wish we could.” She did her best to sound reassuring, booping his nose playfully. “Unfortunately, we have some work to do.”

“Yes but…” Damian suddenly sounded unsure, glancing at Dick - who was standing behind her - before his green eyes finally settled back on her, full of hope and anticipation. “You’ll be back, right? Since you promised you’d be my friend, and all.”

Her heart squeezed at his hopeful, slightly fearful face. “Of course. I’ll be back whenever you want. I’ll help you write all your English essays.”

His face lit up again, in a way that reminded her of Dick. She knew it was impossible, but the two brothers looked uncannily similar. “I’d really like that.”

Smokes couldn’t help it then, this child was just too damn cute. She pulled Damian into a soft hug, holding him tight and snug. He yelped at first, instinctively wanting to break free of her grasp, but quickly melted into the embrace and held her back, burying his head into her shoulder.

Unfortunately, it subsequently took ten minutes and both Dick and Alfred’s cooperation to tear him off of her because Damian just refused to let go of her.

They bid their goodbyes again - stopping Damian from clinging back to her sternly - and Dick and Smokes descended the front steps, waving energetically at the butler and the young master. Damian’s wave was small and uncertain, but a serene expression was painted on his face.

Smokes turned her attention back to Dick as they walked towards the car, nibbling pensively on her lower lip. She wanted to ask him, wanted to make sure things were still fine between them but-

“Ow!” She yelped when Dick flicked her forehead, massaging the spot. “What was that for?”

Dick smiled sideways. “You’re thinking too hard again. What’s that pretty little brain of yours so caught up about?”

God, he knew her so well it was almost frightening. Well, there was no better time than the present to ask him, she supposed.

“Are you mad at me?” She strung the words together so quickly she wasn’t sure he’d be able to make out what she was saying.

Dick frowned in response. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“About… about yesterday.”

Dick blinked in confusion, and it took him a moment to understand what she was alluding too. His features softened instantly. “Smokes, of course I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“I mean I…” She didn’t know how to put into words. “I didn’t tell you, and-”

“Smokes.” His voice immediately interrupted, eyes filled with tenderness and understanding. “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes, but, I mean, you’re my friend and I-”

“What kind of friend would I be if I expected things from you and bailed on you the minute you didn’t give them to me?” He shrugged, and she was at a loss for words. They stopped in front of the car, and Dick turned to face her fully, serious yet gentle expression on his face. “Smokes, listen to me. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable telling me. If you never want to tell me about Oxford, that’s fine. I don’t demand or expect anything from you, and you certainly don’t owe me anything.” He held her stare, and she knew he was being serious. “When and if you ever change your mind and want to talk about it, then I promise you I’ll be here for you. I just want you to be happy, ok?” He ruffled her hair softly, not giving her any time to reply as he opened the car door and got in.

Smokes stood there, frozen, for a few seconds, blinking at the air.

When and if you ever change your mind and want to talk about it, then I promise you I’ll be here for you.

When. He’d said when.

Smokes realized with a startle, that she wanted to tell him. That she was looking forward to it. That maybe that when was nearer in the future than she thought.

And the realization terrified her.

Chapter Text

Smokes stifled a yawn as she descended the stairs of her apartment building, keys jangling in her right hand loudly with her every step. Her apartment building was currently being renovated, which meant the elevators were out of service almost every day - which, really, wouldn’t have been much of an issue if she didn’t live on the 6th floor.

Her cardio was certainly better - she’d made sure to keep running a few times a week after Dick’s boot camp - but after a day of running around and chasing perps, the last thing she wanted to do was climb 5 flights of stairs. She glanced quickly at her watch as she rounded a corner and reached the second floor. 8:41 AM. She was going to be late.

Smokes cursed when she finally reached the ground floor, muttering a quick “ Good morning! ” to the doorman, an adorable 60-year-old man called Simon, and pushed the front door with a sigh. The building’s parking lot was also being renovated and she’d had to park her car on the adjacent streets instead. Finding a parking slot in Gotham was a headache, and she sometimes spent nearly 20 minutes looking for a sliver of space for her car. Luckily, last night she’d hit the jackpot and found a place right in front of the building’s front door.

Smokes stepped into the warm late-March sun with a smile, closing the door behind her. A month had passed since her visit to Wayne Manor, since that night in the car with Dick where she’d said so little yet so much, where he had wanted to say something before they’d been interrupted by Red Hood. Smokes tried not to think too hard about it: she didn’t know what to make of it, and it had been driving her crazy. Not to mention, Dick hadn’t brought it up again at all. Things had gone back to how they usually were, and Smokes didn’t know whether to be thankful for it or if she wanted to scream in her pillow. Probably a bit of both.

And then, of course, there was what Dick had told her that day at Wayne Manor. When and if you ever change your mind and want to talk about it, then I promise you I’ll be here for you. The statement had rattled her more than she was willing to admit. Over the course of the past month, she’d found herself opening her mouth to tell him the truth multiple times, only stopping short because it was usually not the time nor place to do it.

She wanted to tell him. She did. She was about to. She could feel it. She just needed… she didn’t even know what she needed. A push? How many more pushes did she need from Dick and the universe to simply say it out loud?

These were the thoughts that had been plaguing her for a month, and that gave her a headache whenever she thought about the issue for too long. She’d tell him, eventually, she just needed to find the right moment.

Smokes took a grand total of one step down the front steps of her apartment complex before her eyes landed on the figure leaning onto her little red car, arms crossed and smiling nonchalantly as he raked her body up and down. She froze instantly, body tensing and grip on her keys tightening.

Because propped onto her car as if it was the most natural thing in the world was none other than Slade Wilson. His hair was tied in his usual sleek, long ponytail, and he was wearing a casual brown leather jacket and tight black jeans that he pulled off surprisingly well for a man in his sixties. The black eyepatch didn’t entirely hide the scar on his right eye, a sliver of it peeking out at the top, and his lone left eye… Smokes wasn’t oblivious enough to not notice the way he was looking at her. He was practically undressing her with his gaze.

They stood in a deadlock for a few moments, Smokes not daring to take another step - be it forward or backward. Her phone was somewhere at the bottom of her bag, so she had no way of contacting Dick, and her taser was probably alongside it.

Shit. Could she maybe call Simon’s attention? But even if she did, what would the doorman possibly be able to achieve? They might have been around the same age, but she didn’t think Simon would be able to hold his ground in a fight against a notorious crime boss.

Wilson was the first to speak, a smirk spreading across his face at her hesitation. “You wound me, sweetheart. Is that any way to greet an old friend?” 

“Mr. Wilson.” She somehow managed to reply, praying that her voice wasn’t as wobbly as she felt. “I wasn’t aware we were old friends.”

“Oh, my dear little Taser,” She almost puked at the nickname. Sportsmaster had used it once, long ago, but never with this tone of voice. “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be friends?”

“Well, for starters, I threatened you with a taser the last time I saw you.”

“And isn’t that how all great friendships start?” He laughed at her unconvinced expression. “Besides, from what I understand I got off easy. You were true to your words and later tased poor Klaus and Sportmaster.”

Smokes swallowed, trying to recall the events from such a long time ago. That had been her first investigation, the one with Sabia and the Markovian metahuman trafficking ring.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I can only take responsibility for Klaus. I wasn’t the one who tased Sportmaster.”

“No, of course not. That was all Grayson.” He spat the last word with such vehemence she couldn’t help but shudder.

Her nostrils flared. “I do not appreciate you talking about my boss like that.”

There was a small pause, during which Wilson took his sweet time to look her up and down again, eyes roaming her body and stopping at her hips and chest. She was going to puke.

“Mr. Wilson,” She doubled down. She needed to find a way out of this. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s the whole issue, isn’t it, my little Taser?”

She furrowed her brows. “I… I’m not sure I understand.”

“Grayson. I mean, he’s always been a problem, but particularly so these past few months. And that’s the whole problem. He’s your boss.”

Smokes blinked in confusion. What in the world was this man rambling about? Had he lost his goddamn mind? “Mr. Wilson, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

Wilson raised his head, blue eyes glinting with determination and mischief. The entirety of his attention was directed at her, with so much force it nearly made her balk. “Come work for me.”

Silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the distant city noises, cars honking, wheels screeching, children running and laughing. But she could barely hear those sounds over her ears ringing.

She blinked incredulously a few times, almost dropping her keys out of sheer disbelief.

And then she burst out laughing. A peal of laughter so spontaneous, loud, and genuine, that she didn’t know how to stop. She folded in half from all the laughing, tears springing into her eyes as she did her best to calm down. To Wilson’s credit, he did not react. He barely moved, eyeing her with that same hungry gaze, waiting for her response.

It took her a few minutes to compose herself, and she was still drying some of her tears when she finally responded. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“I suspected that would be your reaction.” He drawled playfully. “But I didn’t realize your laughter would sound this good.”

Barf. Was he here to hire her or to ask her out? “Mr. Wilson, you must be absolutely insane if you seriously think I will come work for you.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I am. But I’m being honest. I want you to come work for me. I want you. ”

Smokes was so astonished by his words she momentarily didn’t know what to say. She eventually settled on: “Why?”

“Let me put it this way. Grayson and his gang of buffoons have always been a pain in my ass, but he’s mostly been manageable these past few years.” He scoffed once again at the mention of Dick, in a way that made her blood boil. How dare he speak of Dick this way? “But these past few months, Grayson has been annoyingly efficient. He destroyed my metahuman trafficking ring - which had been operating smoothly for nearly a decade -, then he seized all of Nakamura’s weapons, and he even blew up my deal with MRE.”

She crossed her arms and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Oh, my sweet little Taser, how naive you are.” A blinding, sneering smile spread onto his lips. “It has everything to do with you. The success rate of Grayson's missions has skyrocketed since you started working for him. It’s infuriating, but also quite convenient.”

Smokes snorted. “So what, you want to hire me so I’ll stop helping Dick?”

“Precisely. It’s like killing two birds with one stone. I impair my competition, which has been hindering my business for far too long, and I also get you .” He licked his lips, eyeing her like that again, and Smokes had to suppress the bile rising in her throat.

“Are you asking me to work for you or to go on a date with you?”

Wilson laughed, eyes never leaving hers as he shrugged. “Can’t it be both?” God, this man was full of himself .

“You’re far too old for me.”

“Is that the only objection you have?” She rolled her eyes at his smirk, which only seemed to amuse him more.

“You’re also a criminal. A murderer. A morally terrible person.” Smokes held up her fingers as she started tallying every reason why she would never, ever date a man like him. Wilson must have been in his early sixties, was he even able to get it up anymore?

Ew. She didn’t want that mental image stuck in her head.

“Those are just details.” He waved her off nonchalantly. Being a murderer was just a detail? This man was delusional. “Besides, your talents are being entirely wasted by Grayson.”

She frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re a distinct doctor, my little Taser.” Smokes’ entire body froze at that, the color draining from her face and her breathing going shallow. Shit. Shit. Shit. He knew. Slade knew. His grin grew wider, as if sensing her panic, and he gracefully pushed himself off of her car, taking slow, tantalizing steps towards her. 

Smokes could only watch him approach in terror, every muscle in her body tense and stiff as she braced herself for the worst. Wilson barreled on, feeding off of her trepidation like a starving beast. “PhD in Quantum Physics - with honors! -, researcher at one of the greatest universities in the world. God, were those Oxford scientists fools to let you go. And over such a stupid, simple thing like that!”

He scaled a step with each word, tallying her accomplishments with his fingers, mimicking the gesture she’d used just a few instants earlier. By the end of his sentence, he’d reached the top of the stairs, now standing dangerously close to her. She had never realized how tall he was, not until he was tilting his head down to look into her brown eyes, brimming with pride and victory because he knew he was winning. She could feel his breath fanning her face, and it took herculean effort not to puke then and there.

Smokes swallowed past the knot in her throat, clenching and unclenching her fists in an attempt to calm down. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She muttered, holding his gaze.

His grin only widened at her words, sensing her fear. He brought a hand to her face, caressing her cheek and playing with a strand of her hair; and despite how much she wanted to shove him off and burn his hand off, Smokes couldn’t do anything. She was frozen, totally petrified, breathing so ragged she wasn’t sure her lungs were working anymore. Wilson drawled on. “Oh, but I do. All it took was a few questions to the right people, and I knew exactly what had happened. Poor little Taser, losing her life’s work and dream because of one pathetic, corrupt man. Dr. Wilkins, was it? Academia truly is a filthy, nasty place.”

Smokes swallowed again, blinking the tears away. God, she hadn’t heard that name in nearly two years. 23 months, to be exact. It would be 2 years on April 26th. 2 years since her life had crashed and burned beyond repair. 2 years since she’d shut down. And in September, it would be 2 years since she’d moved to Gotham and started working for Wayne Entreprises.

The thought sobered her up, images of Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian flashing through her mind. Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick was waiting for her. Dick had changed her life. She was alright. She was fine. She needed to breathe.

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Wilson, and abruptly snatched his hand, removing it from her face with force. She pushed him back violently, desperate to put some space between the two of them. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. And it doesn’t really matter, because I will never work for you. Ever.” She spat at him, but Wilson only shook his head in response.

“My, my, my little Taser, and I here I was hoping it would take less convincing. You didn’t even let me finish my pitch!”

His casual teasing was driving her insane. How was he not getting the hint? “I do not give a flying fuck about your shitty pitch-”

“Well, no need to get vulgar there.” He held his hands up in surrender, and Smokes was tempted to smack the smirk off of his face the old-fashioned way. “If you’d let me finish, you would have known I’m not just asking you to quit on poor Grayson out of the blue. I’ll pay you more, put your scientific knowledge to good use, and-”

“I don’t want a single penny of your money.”

“-And I’ll offer you revenge.”

Smokes blinked and paused, her anger disappearing just as quickly as she’d managed to muster it. Wilson grinned in response, sensing he’d won this round yet again.

“Ah, you aren’t as much of a vicious little thing when you hear things that perk your interest, now, are you?” She didn’t reply, and Wilson took it as a sign to continue. “Come work for me, and I’ll give you the revenge you deserve.”

“What if I don’t want revenge?”

Wilson scoffed. “Ha! Hilarious. Everybody wants revenge, even selfless people with a hero complex like yourself.” He took another step towards her, reducing the gap she’d put between the two of them, and his face inched closer. “Come work for me, Taser, and I’ll have that man tied to a chair for you to do whatever you please with him. I’ll take care of the body and the fallout, and you know what they say: no body, no crime. You won’t have to worry about anything except revenge.”

Smokes swallowed but didn’t reply. She didn’t have the words to.

Wilson shrugged, stepping back slightly and pulling a small piece of paper out of his pocket. He slowly slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans, undisturbed by the way she flinched when his fingers made contact with her hip. He raised his blue eyes to her, still gleaming with mischief and… hope, she realized. This man actually wanted her to work for him.

He leaned in closer again, this time placing her mouth close to her ear. “Just give it some thought, my sweet Taser, yes? And if you change your mind, you have my number to call me now.”

Wilson slowly stepped back, walking backward down the steps, never taking his eyes off of her figure. Smokes couldn’t do anything, could barely breathe as she watched him walk away, the smile on his face so blinding she felt like throwing up again.

When Wilson reached the street, he bowed: a provoking, low bow that made her blood boil.

“We will see each other again soon, Taser.”

And with that, a boom tube opened behind him and he disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Smokes waited one minute, then two, then five before she finally dropped to her knees and inhaled sharply, hand going to her chest where her heart was pounding violently.

Oh shit.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

In hindsight, Smokes should have known Dick would completely lose his shit once the sentence “Slade Wilson showed up at my apartment to offer me a job” left her mouth. Maybe she should have told Tim first, so that he could then tell his brother and calm him down.

But Smokes hadn’t had this much foresight. No, the only foresight she’d had was to wait until they reached the Nest to tell Dick what had happened. 

Once Slade left her apartment - and once she calmed herself down - she sprinted to her car and drove to Dick’s loft. The man was already waiting for her downstairs, anxiously pacing up and down the street as he inspected each passing car. When her car finally rounded the corner, he instantly dashed to her window, the words “ Are you ok? Did something happen? Are you hurt? ” tumbling out of his mouth. She was nearly twenty minutes late, and Dick looked like he was two seconds away from taking his car and driving to her apartment to check in on her himself.

She just ushered him into the car, telling him they needed to reach the Nest as quickly as they could, and hoped she didn’t look too panicked. But whatever Dick saw on her face only increased his worry, because his brow creased and he practically begged her the whole car ride to tell her what was wrong.

When they finally reached the Nest, they both bolted up the stairs, closing the front door to the apartment behind them with a loud thud that startled Tim. The younger man, who was sitting in his desk chair, turned around instantly and asked “What’s wrong? What happened? ”.

That was when Smokes blurted out “Slade Wilson showed up at my apartment to offer me a job”. That was when both Tim and Dick’s eyes went wider than saucers.

And that was also when Dick completely lost his shit and asked - no, demanded her to tell him exactly what had happened word for word, detail for detail. He cursed so many times Smokes lost count; she had never seen him so angry.

While Dick was busy losing his shit and pacing up and down the apartment in a frenzy, using curses Smokes hadn’t even known existed before, Tim somehow had the insight to call Bruce and Jason, who showed up to the Nest in record time.

Which was how she now found herself sitting on the Nest’s little green couch, surrounded by Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Jason all sitting on chairs in a circle around her. If she hadn’t known these people personally, she would have thought she was being interrogated. She’d just finished telling the story for what felt like the hundredth time - leaving out details such as Slade Wilson flirting with her and him offering her revenge, because if Dick had lost his shit without knowing these details, then who knew what he would do once he found out (her bet was on blowing the roof off of the Nest, at the very least).

Dick was the first to break the long, thick silence that had settled over them once she’d finished her tale. “You need to move out.”

“What?” She sputtered indignantly, while Jason started snickering and Tim smacked his arm to keep him quiet. “How is that the conclusion you come to after everything I’ve told you?”

“What do you mean how is that the conclusion - one of the most dangerous crime bosses in the world knows where you live! If that isn’t enough reason to move out, I don’t know what is!” Dick scoffed, pinching his nose in annoyance. He was mere seconds away from losing his shit again.

“Dick, I am not moving out! Do you know what a hassle it is to find housing in Gotham? And besides, moving out isn’t going to stop Wilson from finding me again if he really wants to!” She exclaimed angrily, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

“Yes, but at least it will keep you safe for a short while!” Dick fired back instantly.

“A short while? So, what, do you suggest I just move every time Wilson finds me again?”

“Maybe I am suggesting that!”

“What if he finds me every week? Every day? What am I supposed to do, change apartment every 24 hours?”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe, then yes!”

“Do you have any idea what a headache it is to move? To pack box after box after box and attempt to stiff your whole life in these boxes?”

“Ok, I think that’s enough.” Bruce swiftly intervened when Dick opened his mouth, ready to retort. “I think we can take a raincheck on the moving, ok? For now, it looks like Wilson genuinely wants Maverick to work for him, so I don’t think she’s currently running any risks.” Smokes was tempted to stick her tongue out at Dick. The latter’s nostrils just flared in disagreement. “But, if that were to change, then we’ll make sure to find alternative accommodation for her, alright?” This time, it was Dick’s face that shone with triumph.

“Now, if you guys are done with your little lover’s spat,” Jason rolled his eyes when both Dick and Smokes glared at him. “we can discuss the real issue at hand.”

“Which is?” Dick raised an unconvinced eyebrow at his brother, and Smokes was inclined to agree with him. 

“Which is, you idiots, what do we do with this opportunity?” Jason let out an exasperated sigh at their confused faces. “Oh, for the love of God, people, wake up. Wilson just offered Maverick a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Confused silence filled the room.

“A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to… murder people and work with criminals?” Tim spoke dubiously, swiftly avoiding the pillow Jason threw his way.

“No, you idiots, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to infiltrate the League of Shadows!” Bruce’s face finally flickered with understanding as Jason continued. “Just think about it: Slade is desperate enough to offer Maverick a job. We should take advantage of this.”

“Send her in with a wire and a hidden camera, hack into their systems, find incriminating evidence, and take down the organization from the inside,” Bruce added pensively, rubbing his chin, and Smokes could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Exactly. We send Smokes in for a few days - a week, at best - and we see what she comes up with. And if we’re lucky,” Jason snapped his fingers together. “She’ll find enough evidence to put Wilson behind bars for good.”

Silence settled over the room as they all considered the idea quietly. This was… insane. Goddammit, this was probably the most insane thing they’d ever asked of her, and she’d seen some bizarre things since she’d started working for Dick. Taking down a criminal organization from the inside… she was just a researcher, for heaven’s sake, how had she ended up here?

“Absolutely not.” Dick was the first to speak, crossing his arms obstinately. 

“What? Why not?” Smokes immediately questioned heatedly. Sure, she wasn’t 100% sure she could pull this off but she could try!

“Are you people out of your damn mind? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? We can’t just send Smokes on an undercover mission like that! She’s not ready for that!” Dick erupted, flailing his arms wildly and losing his shit all over again.

“Excuse me?” She stammered. “What do you mean I’m not ready? Of course I’m ready! How hard could this possibly be?”

Dick shook his head, turning his gaze to her. “Smokes, you have no idea what you’re signing yourself up for. This is the League of Shadows we’re talking about. All of the world’s worst criminals wrapped into one, with a nice little bow on top! They’re going to eat you alive.”

“Well-” Tim tried to intervene, with little success.

“Wasn’t he arguing that she was ready just a few days ago?” Jason muttered under his breath, too low for Smokes to hear - Tim smacked his arm for the second time of the day.

“Eat me alive? What are they, cannibals?” She scoffed, still glaring at him.

“Well-” Jason tried speaking up, in vain.

Dick sighed, exasperatedly, returning the glare. “Some of them are! And that’s not even the worst of them! I don’t think you even begin to understand the sheer danger you’d be in-”

“I understand the danger better than you realize! So, what, they have one cannibal at best, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be-”

“One? They have at least a dozen of them!”

“Are we seriously arguing about the number of cannibals a part of the League of Shadows?” Tim finally managed to butt in.

“NO!” Dick and Smokes both snapped at the poor man at the same time, and Tim raised his hands in surrender the moment their booming voices scolded him.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause during which Smokes and Dick continued to glare at each other, while the others witnessed the stalemate. 

“Alright, listen up.” Bruce was the first to speak up, addressing all of them solemnly. “Jason is right, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Dick instantly protested. “But, Bruce-”

“Dick, just let me finish, alright? Jason is right, but Dick is also right.” Bruce turned to address Smokes personally. “This would be an incredibly dangerous mission. The League of Shadows is made up of the world’s most dangerous, most ruthless criminals. You would be running all sorts of risks. We can wire you up, have an earpiece and a hidden camera on you, and track you with a GPS, but we still wouldn’t be able to 100% ensure your safety. What you’ve done these past few months is absolutely remarkable, but this mission would be nothing like that. The decision is yours.”

Everybody went quiet at that, all looking at her eagerly, and Smokes realized with slight panic that Bruce was very, very serious. This was her decision, and they didn’t want to push her in one direction or another.

She blinked, playing with her hands nervously as she considered everything that had just happened. This morning was definitely going in the top ten weirdest mornings she’d ever had, maybe even in the top five. This mission had “ DANGER ” written all over it, in red blood ink. But… if she succeeded, then they could put Wilson behind bars and take down the League of Shadows. How long had vigilantes and the Justice League attempted to do that and failed? Then again, if superheroes had spent decades fighting them and failed, who was to say she wouldn’t fail too?

“Smokes.” Dick cleared his throat, blue eyes boring into her brown. “Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?” He tilted his head towards the apartment door, motioning for her to follow him.

The two of them stood up, the room going uncomfortably quiet as they walked towards the door. Dick opened it for her, letting her walk out first before closing it behind them softly. They went down the stairs, stopping in the apartment’s building entryway, away from prying ears.

Dick and Smokes stared at each other without saying a word for several, tense moments, neither of them willing to break the silence first.

Dick was the first to cave in.

“Don’t go.” He mumbled, and his voice sounded so desperate it took her by surprise.

“I…” She stuttered, not knowing what to say. “I can take care of myself, Dick.”

But the man shook his head, running a trembling hand through his hair as a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Believe me, Smokes, I know, but this is different. This isn’t our usual run-of-the-mill investigations that go wrong - this is… we’re talking about going undercover, for who knows how long! You won’t be able to contact us, you’ll have to play along and witness horrors you could never imagine and…” His breath shuddered, blue eyes imploring her. “If you get in trouble, if they find out, I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to save you in time.”

“Dick…” She was at a loss for words, taken off guard by his vulnerability and the sheer desperation in his voice. “Dick, I understand your reservations and fears, and believe me I’m not taking this lightly but… Jason is right. When are we going to get another opportunity like this?”

“There will be plenty of opportunities, believe me. Opportunities that won’t put you in danger.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down anxiously, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side.

“Dick. I… what if it had been you? What if Slade had offered you a job? Would you have said no then?”

“Smokes, that is an entirely different scenario-”

“What, because you’re a PI and you’ve been doing this for years?” She huffed, interrupting him.

“Yes, precisely for that reason, and many more!” His face hardened, words clipped and frustrated, but the outburst of anger was shortlived; His features instantly relaxed when his eyes landed on her figure again. “Smokes, I know you like proving that you can handle everything on your own, that you’re independent and don’t need anyone’s help. I know that you like barrelling towards danger without giving it a second thought. But, I- for the love of God, this is nothing like what you’ve seen before. Don’t go. Please .”

Smokes didn’t know what to say, what to do, not when Dick was looking at her like that. It was entirely different from his usual indiscernible gaze; no, this time, he was pleading with her, eyes filled with worry and concern and something more.

Smokes swallowed. “What if I say yes to the mission? Are you going to stop me?”

Dick’s entire body froze, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before shaking his head and replying softly. “No. I know better than trying to stop you.”

“But…”

“But if… if anything happens to you, you’re going to break my goddamn heart .” His voice broke at that, and Smokes saw it then, all the grief and misery he’d endured. His parents, Wally, all of the people he’d loved… how many people had he lost already? How many people had left him for his voice to shatter like that, for his eyes to plead so hopelessly, for his whole body to beg so shamelessly? Because Dick was begging her not to go; she knew he was willing to get on her knees and beg her not to go, was probably seconds away from doing just that.

“I’ll be careful, Dick. I promise. I’ll come back.” She hated the hurt that flashed across his face, so vulnerable and raw, so worried about her.

Dick cleared his throat. “You better come back. Who’s going to drive me around the city if you don’t?” He attempted to chuckle at his joke, but the sound that left his throat was half-hearted at best.

A few beats passed before they eventually decided to return to the others, climbing the stairs in absolute silence. Smokes couldn’t see Dick’s face behind her, but she had no doubt his brows were creased with concentration and disagreement.

Still, she’d been honest with him. She would come back. She would bring Wilson, and the League of Shadows down, and she would come back to him. For him. For Dick, she would do it.

When she pushed the door to the Nest wide open, Bruce, Jason, and Tim’s heads instantly shot up, looking at her expectantly. She exhaled sharply, feeling Dick’s reassuring and warm presence behind her.

“I’ll do it.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

It took three hours for the men to agree on the conditions of the sting, Dick vetoing most of what the others said with an iron fist. He’d agreed to let her go, but his voice dripped with disapproval and worry with every word. 

Ultimately, they settled on terms that satisfied him as much as he could be satisfied in this situation: she would only go for a week, no more no less. She would be wired at all times, connected to one of their people constantly. If she found the incriminating evidence before the seven days were up, she was to leave the premises as quickly as possible. And they even set a safe word, blueberry pie, in case she needed help (this stemmed from the blueberry pie Tim received from Cassie mid-debate, which had sent Jason and Dick into a hysterical laughing fit while Bruce and Smokes snickered under their breaths).

Now, all that was left to do was call Wilson. And even that had been the subject of heavy deliberation, her every word practically scripted before she pressed the call button.

She was sitting in Dick’s desk chair, phone on speaker, and the four men stood in a circle around her. They all looked relatively calm, except for Dick of course who’d been livid for the past three hours and didn’t look like he would be calming down anytime soon.

Wilson picked up on the second ring. “My sweet Taser. I knew I’d be hearing from you soon.”

Dick’s whole body went tense at the nickname, eyes brimming with fury and disgust. The muscle in his jaw ticked so hard that his teeth chattered loudly, and both Bruce and Jason glared at him in response.

Smokes swallowed, trying to ignore Dick’s visible anger. “Yes, well. I’ve huh… thought about it.”

“Have you now?” Wilson chuckled on the other side of the line, and Smokes could’ve sworn Dick clenched his fists.

“Yes. I’m not entirely convinced by your pitch, I’m not going to lie but… I’d be willing to do a test trial.”

“A test trial?”

“Yes. One week. And at the end of the week, I’ll decide if I want to work for you or not.”

“Hmm,” Wilson hummed pensively, tapping his fingers on some surface. “I see. Well, I suppose we could arrange that. One week, and I’ll have you charmed, my little Taser, I promise.”

Dick shifted uncomfortably again, nostrils flaring with rage, but Smokes barreled on. “Yes. And I’m going to need three days to come up with some excuse for Dick.”

“Oh, yes, Grayson will be quite heartbroken to hear the news.” He chuckled again. “But yes, I accept. In three days, I will come pick you up in front of your apartment. Until then, Taser.”

Wilson hung up, and silence hung between them momentarily. Smokes looked up at the four men standing in front of her, expressions solemn and focused. But Dick, in particular… his face was painful to look at. He looked so hurt and worried and angry and Smokes couldn’t stand it.

Dick eventually sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Time to get to work, I guess.”

Chapter Text

The following three days were spent in a frenzy of preparations and recommendations, with Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Dick working hard to ensure every precaution was in place.

All of her clothes were wired, particularly seven cardigans whose buttons were ideal for placing the hidden cameras and microphones. The devices were tiny, invisible to the human eye, and Tim declared proudly that he’d been the one to engineer them. They sewed a tiny USB key in all of the sleeves - despite its size, the device was powerful enough to hack into computers and send them a copy of their hard drives. All she had to do was plug it in, and the key would do the rest. They hid the GPS on the zipper of her jeans and concealed multiple earpieces on her earrings. She would have someone speaking into her ear and guiding her the whole time - but not one of them.

Smokes pouted sadly at that, looking over to Dick. “You won’t be the one speaking to me?”

The man shook his head dejectedly. “No, it’s too dangerous for any of us to be in contact with you. Someone else will be on the other side of the line. But don’t worry, I’ll still be watching and following everything, I promise.”

They did multiple test runs, ensuring that the devices would all work no matter the distance and conditions. The only test they didn’t conduct was whether they would hold under the pressure of a boom tube - Wilson had used one to travel to her apartment last time, and Smokes suspected he would use one again when he picked her up. But Tim reassured her that he’d conducted the test on his own and that she would be fine.

Bruce and Jason - under Dick’s watchful eye - then proceeded to give her a rundown of all the supervillains she could expect to see. Black Spider, Rictus, Professor Ojo, Hook… her mind was spinning, struggling to keep up with all these names, faces, and quirks.

“We don’t know where he’ll be taking you yet,” Bruce started, placing a world map on the Nest’s coffee table. “But there’s a good chance he could bring you over to the League of Shadow’s headquarters on Santa Prisca.” He circled a small Caribbean island in red. “If he does, then these are the biggest threats you’ll face.”

Jason, who was sitting next to him, placed three pictures on the coffee table: the first depicted an African-American man with a full-face black and white mask. “This is Bane. He’s the ruler of the island. He used to use the venom harvested on the island as his weapon of choice, but we destroyed the factory a while ago. We don’t know if he’s rebuilt it by now or not.”

Smokes nodded, not daring to say anything. Dick was sitting beside her on the couch, arms crossed and eyes serious as he eyed the pictures in front of them. He’d been in a terrible mood ever since she’d agreed to this mission, and she couldn’t blame him for it.

The second picture was the portrait of a young woman - surely younger than her - with long black hair and impeccable eyeliner. “This is Cassandra Savage,” Jason continued. “She’s the daughter of Vandal Savage, another one of the higher-ups. Vandal hasn’t been seen on the island in years, but Cassandra is one of Wilson’s most loyal followers. She’s ruthless, and she’s not afraid to kill. Try not to get on her bad side.”

Smokes swallowed. Oh, yeah, easy peasy lemon squeezy, just don’t get on a criminal’s bad side! She was almost - almost - starting to regret her decision.

The last picture was a covert photo of a tall, Asian woman, with short hair and a red suit. “This is Lady Shiva. She’s the most fanatical of the three, maybe even more so than Wilson himself. She’s Wilson’s personal assassin, but she’s incredibly weary of him. You’ll need to be cautious around her.”

Smokes nodded once again, but the gesture was only half-hearted. This was… well, she hadn’t realized just how dangerous this would be. Maybe Dick was right, she was in over her head and there was no way she could-

She blinked when Dick’s knee bumped into hers, whipping her head to look at him. His blue eyes were already searching for her brown, gleaming with trust and reassurance. “You’ve done plenty of dangerous things, this is just another one to add to the list. I believe in you, so believe in yourself. You’ll be fine. “

She exhaled sharply, tearing her gaze away from him. She could barely stand to look at him. Dick was so against this whole mission; she knew it, he knew that she knew it, everybody knew it. And yet, here he was, reassuring her and telling her he believed in her. Telling her that she could do it, that she would be fine, despite the sheer terror he’d let her glimpse just a few days prior.

This man was too good for her. She didn’t know what to do with his kindness, she wasn’t sure she deserved it; not when she’d hurt him and gone against his advice.

Jason continued listing some minor criminals she could potentially run into, but made it clear her main threats were Bane, Cassandra Savage, and Lady Shiva. She might be able to avoid the first, but she was almost sure to bump into the other two. They didn’t know how they’d react to Wilson’s initiative, so their advice was - ironically - to stick by Wilson’s side because he was the only one who seemed bent on keeping her safe.

Dick scoffed at that, his irritation at the whole situation returning. He made a sound every time Wilson’s name came up, and if she didn’t know better she’d think he was jealous. The idea made her chuckle. Jealous of what? A 64-year-old man with back problems? He truly had nothing to worry about on that front.

At the end of the third day of preparations, Smokes drove Dick home in silence. A box filled with her newly wired clothes sat in the backseat, as well as a sheet with last-minute instructions from Tim. Tim and Jason had hugged her warmly, wishing her the best, and Bruce had shook her hand and asked her to stay safe.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel nervously, taking in her little red car. It was going to sit unused for a whole week, and the thought made her heart stutter. She’d really come to love this car, despite the fact Dick had forced her to accept it.

She glanced at the man sitting beside her. Dick was oddly quiet - he’d been so these past few days. He was either prissy with everyone, expressing his disapproval with all his strength, or quiet, lost in thought and most likely worrying about the mission.

She sighed, returning her attention to the road ahead. She would make it up to him. Once she came back, she would make it up to him and vow to stop getting tangled up in dangerous situations like this (though, in her defense, Wilson had been the one to offer her a job, so was it really her fault?). She would sit dutifully in the car and wait for the vigilantes to take care of the more dangerous thing.

For Dick, she’d make this promise.

She pulled up in front of Dick’s apartment complex, parking swiftly just a few feet away from the front door. Dick exhaled sharply, turning to look at her.

“So…” He started, voice quiet. “This is it.”

“I’m just leaving for a week, you know, it’s not like I’m being sent off to war.” She attempted a joke, but Dick’s face was serious and her small smile quickly fell.

“Just… promise me you’ll be careful, alright? Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“I promise.”

“And if anything happens, don’t panic, ok? You’re smart, resourceful, and cunning as hell. You can get yourself out of whatever situation you end up in.” Her chest swelled with pride despite the worry in his eyes.

Dick was like an open book to her now, she could read his every expression and movement. She knew he was concerned about this whole mission, that he would have probably locked her up in his apartment and taken care of Slade Wilson himself if he could. But still, regardless of his feelings, he was doing his best to reassure her.

Her lips twitched upwards, and she teased him. “I’ll try not to wind up in a situation I need to get myself out of in the first place.”

“Good girl.” His face finally broke into a grin, and Smokes did her best to ignore the way her whole stomach bottomed out at the nickname. Dick ran a hand through his hair, looking at her one last time. “Be good, Smokes. I’ll see you in a week.”

“See you in a week,” She muttered in response as he stepped out of the car and closed the door gently behind him.

She wanted to scream at him to come back, beg him not to hate her for this decision. She knew - or, well, hoped - he wouldn’t be able to hate her, but she could still see how much this had hurt him. She couldn’t stand to watch him like that, so sad and angry and worried, but she also didn’t know what to say. It’s all me. Don’t go. I’ll be back. I promise. But no words left her mouth.

Smokes didn’t leave immediately - no, she stayed and watched Dick fumble with the keys in his back pocket, the way his eyes kept glancing back at her and the car, as if he had more to tell her but didn’t know if he should. Dick paused in the entryway for several, long, endless beats. Even from this distance, he was staring straight into her soul. She watched him clench and unclench his fists a few times, seemingly still debating whatever was troubling him. Finally, he shook his head, gave her a small wave, and closed the door behind him.

Smokes swallowed.

From here on out, she was alone.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The following morning, Smokes woke up and followed her usual routine. She ate her breakfast, washed her teeth, and dressed up; it felt like any other day, and for a second she almost fooled herself that it was. That she was just going to drive to Dick’s house and then they’d face the day together.

But, of course, it wasn’t.

Smokes glanced anxiously at the clock on her kitchen’s oven. 8:50 AM. Wilson had told her he’d swing by her place at 9:00 AM sharp, and she didn’t know what to expect. Would they spend the day in Gotham? Or would he whisk her away to Santa Prisca? Both options gave her the chills.

She tapped the earpiece hidden on her gold hoop earring, waiting for the person on the other line to connect. For safety reasons, none of the men had shared the identity of this mysterious person with her - Dick had only mentionned that it was someone he trusted wholeheartedly, and that would make sure to keep her safe.

She believed them, of course, but she still wished it could have been Dick. She trusted Dick with her life, and going a whole week without seeing or hearing him… it gutted her more than she was willing to admit.

“Hello? Maverick? Do you copy?” A female voice finally boomed from the other line, startling Smokes. Despite the earpiece being located on her earring, it was as if the woman was in her head.

“Hello. Yes, I’m here.” She replied swiftly, glancing at her kitchen one last time. It was spotless, and she hoped she hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Good! We ran multiple tests with Tim, so I wasn’t too worried, but I’m glad everything’s working. Try to move around a bit? I’m going to test out the camera and the GPS.” The woman was surprisingly chirpy - or maybe Smokes just wasn’t used to someone being so jolly after spending three days cooped up with angry men.

Still, Smokes did as she was told, walking a few laps around the apartment. She stopped in front of her bathroom mirror, so that the woman could see her reflection as she spoke. “All good?”

“Yup! We’re all clear! The camera looks wonderful, Tim.” There was a long pause, and Smokes realized with melancholy that the woman could speak to Tim and Dick. Her heart sank when she thought of his desperate blue eyes, and she had to chase the image from her mind. “Alrighty, so it looks like we’re good to go. My name is Barbara, it’s very nice to meet you. I’ll be guiding you throughout this whole mission, so you’ll never be alone.”

Smokes’ ears started ringing when the woman shared her name: Barbara. Barbara… as in Dick’s ex Barbara? As in the five-year-long relationship Barbara? Why in the world would he not mention that this person he trusted oh so deeply was his fucking ex? She wasn’t entirely certain why she was pissed off that they hadn’t warned her, or why the pit in her stomach was sizzling uncomfortably with anger.

“Everything ok?” The voice - Barbara asked, and one look at the mirror was enough to establish that Smokes was, in fact, frowning.

She sighed, willing herself to calm down. This was ridiculous and totally irrational. She didn’t know Barbara, she was probably a wonderful person. Dick seemed to still care about her and trust her- this thought angered her again, and she had to suppress a groan.

“Yup. Everything fine, just zoned out for a second there, sorry.” She spoke quickly, trying to cut her train of thought. “You were saying?”

“No worries!” She was so jolly and happy and it was going to drive Smokes nuts. Of course, Dick had dated someone as carefree and optimistic as him. “Well, as I was saying, I’m the only one who will be speaking through the earpiece, but everyone’s following your movements regardless.”

“Wait, hold on. What do you mean by everyone?”

“Well, Dick and the rest of the ba- boys are following from the Nest. And we have some Justice Leaguers monitoring the situation.”

Smokes was tempted to scoff again but managed to keep it in. She should’ve known the Justice League would be involved in this mess as well. This was way above a private investigator’s pay grade.

“Right, ok, we have an audience, then.”

“We do, but don’t worry! It’s just a precaution. If anything were to go wrong, they’ll be there as quickly as they can.”

Barbara probably meant to sound reassuring, but Smokes was now more worried than anything. Did they expect things to go wrong? God, maybe she should’ve just said no.

“Anyways, it’s almost time. Is this your first time using an earpiece on an undercover mission?”

“Do I look like someone who goes on undercover missions regularly?”

Barbara only chuckled, choosing to ignore her curt tone of voice. “Gotcha. Well, just be careful when you speak to me. Sometimes you’ll feel overwhelmed and will want to reply, but that would only blow your cover. Think of me as a narrator, and don’t reply unless you’re certain you’re on your own.”

“Got it,” Smokes replied, though she wasn’t sure she’d manage to follow the woman’s advice. She sighed, stepped outside of the bathroom, and glanced at her watch. 9:00 AM . 

As if on cue, her phone chimed with a message.

Wilson: I’m waiting downstairs, my little Taser.

Smokes rolled her eyes at the nickname, and Barbara made a gagging noise. “Yikes. This perv really has it bad for you.”

The comment made her snort, and she momentarily forgot about her irrational hatred for the woman. “I think the old age is getting to him.”

“It’s always the old, creepy men.” Barbara agreed solemnly, and Smokes found it hard to dislike the woman. “Alright, Mav, you’re up. Just remember, I’ll be here every step of the way, you’re not alone, ok? So tits up, and let’s get this show on the road.”

Smokes chuckled. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

She locked her apartment door behind her, praying that she’d get to see it again soon, and was relieved to find that the elevator was working. The ride down was quiet, a million thoughts swirling in her head. She could do this. She’d done so much these past few months, a little sting with Slade wouldn’t kill her.

She’d bring this fucker down from the inside.

When she pushed the front door of her apartment complex, greeting Simon as usual, she was surprised to find Wilson leaning on a battered brown car. She’d assumed they’d use boom tubes, but maybe he wanted to test the waters with her first.

Wilson’s whole face beamed up as she descended the stairs, and she willed every muscle in her body to relax as she strode towards him. She needed to play a part, and puking at his feet probably wouldn’t convince him of her good faith. 

“Steady, Mav, steady. You’re doing good. Just act natural.” Barbara’s voice boomed in her head, and despite her bias towards the woman who had broken Dick’s heart (because Dick was physically incapable of breaking someone’s heart, she was certain), she found her voice to be a reassuring companion.

“Taser.” Wilson smiled when she stood in front of him, taking her hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on it that made her want to barf. Luckily, the bile stayed down. “I knew you’d change your mind.”

She quickly removed her hand from his, resisting the urge to wipe it clean, and crossed her arms. “This is just a test trial. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

His grin only grew wider. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. But, do tell me, what changed your mind? Was it the promise of revenge?”

Smokes froze at that. Shit. She hadn’t told Dick and the rest about this part of Wilson’s deal, didn’t think it would come up given that this was only a “test trial”. “Maverick. What does he mean by that? What did he promise you?” Barbara’s panicked voice immediately came through.

Smokes opened her mouth to reply to the woman, and had to catch herself. Barbara was right, this was hard. “It’s- No. I told you, I don’t want revenge. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

Wilson hummed in response, but he didn’t look unconvinced. “Well. We can always discuss it again later.” He turned to his car, opening the passenger’s seat for her. “After you, my sweet Taser.”

Smokes did her best not to gag as she entered the car, taking in her surroundings. Despite the run-down exterior, the car was very clean and tidy. Actually, it looked like it had been cleaned just recently - had Wilson washed his car just for her? Barf. There was no way she was going to survive seven days with this man without throwing up at least once.

Smokes reached for her seatbelt, buckling it as she did her best to relax. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in the passenger’s seat. Ever since she’d started working for Dick, she’d always been the one driving - driving had become a calming, natural thing for her, and she’d gone from being a terrible driver to being an excellent one.

Wilson settled beside her, flashing another disgusting smile as he turned the keys in the ignition. “Dick, for the love of god, she’s been in there for ten seconds, you need to keep it together!” Smokes’ whole body lit up at the mention of Dick, but that was short-lived when she realized that Barbara had just forgotten to turn off her microphone.

Her heart sank in her chest, and she did her best to focus on the situation at hand. “Sorry about that, Maverick, Dick was just being… well, Dick. You know how he gets. You’re doing amazing so far, don’t worry, alright?” Barbara’s apology came mere seconds later, and any hope of hearing Dick died then and there. She hoped he was ok, that he wasn’t losing his shit too much and driving Tim and Jason insane (who was she kidding, he definitely was).

Smokes dared a small, invisible nod, turning to look at Wilson. The old man was humming happily, glancing at her from time to time with a smirk.

This was going to be a long week.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Smokes wasn’t sure whether Wilson trusted her or not; despite all his smiles and discreetly flirty comments during the car ride, he did not take her to Santa Prisca.

No, he took her to a secluded section of the port, that seemed to be an operating base for the organization.

“Yeah, we've been aware of this one for a while. We were just waiting to have a maximum of criminals and cargo there to apprehend them all together.” Barbara commented as Smokes and Wilson walked through the port. The woman’s voice was her only link back to her life, and Smokes was very thankful for her presence.

Wilson strutted with confidence, chin high and gaze commanding as he observed his men running back and forth. No one dared look back at him, everybody keeping their head down when they walked past them. She felt some people glancing at her curiously, but nobody dared question her presence. She followed Wilson quietly, trying to make herself as invisible and unnoticeable as possible; the less people perceived her as a threat, the better.

They arrived in front of a red-brick warehouse, and Wilson slid the heavy doors open with his bare hands - despite his age, he retained a spectacular amount of physical strength. The previously bustling, loud room fell quiet as all eyes fell on Wilson’s imposing figure. 

Wilson was a charismatic leader, she had to give him that. The crowd of workers parted when he approached a stack of crates, motioning with his hand for her to follow along. Smokes didn’t need him to ask her twice - she kept close to him, preferring his disgusting flirting over the murderous rage some of his men shot her. “Yes, that’s good, stay close to Wilson. He may be a disgusting pervert, but he’s a disgusting pervert who will protect you.”

“Open the crate,” Wilson ordered in Japanese, startling Smokes. His accent was impeccable, and if she hadn’t known who was speaking she would have automatically assumed he was Japanese. He turned to smirk at her. “Surprised?”

“A little,” She admitted quietly, looking around the room. She realized with shock that all the workers were Japanese.

“These are the rest of Nakamura’smen,” Barbara spoke through the earpiece. “We apprehended a good chunk of them, but some escaped. I guess we know where they are now.”

A man approached them with a crowbar, angling the tool with his green-tinted hands, and unscrewed the lid off the crate. Wilson hummed in approval. “Thank you, Kanemaru.”

Kanemaru bowed, taking a step back, while Wilson reached inside the box and extracted an item. Smokes’ heart dropped when she saw what she was holding: Nakamura’s nuclear weapons.

Wilson weighed the weapon in his hands, the silver liquid contained inside the glass bottle splashing back and forth with his movements. He held the weapon in front of him, aiming for Kanemaru’s head, and everybody stopped breathing.

“Is this all of the shipment?” Wilson asked dangerously, and Smokes was frozen in place, not knowing what to say or do. Was he insane enough to blow up the warehouse with them in it? Smokes wasn’t sure she was breathing anymore as she watched the scene unfold before her.

Kanemaru nodded. “Yes. This is all that is left.”

She took another peek around the room. There were only 5 stacks of crates: most of the weapons had probably been apprehended the night she’d met Nightwing.

Wilson finally put the weapon back into its crate, and everybody let out a collective sigh of relief. He didn’t bother looking at Kanemaru as he spoke. “Set up a demonstration. A small sample. I want proof of this weapon’s efficiency.”

“Of course,” Kanemaru swiftly responded, but Wilson had turned his back and was already leaving the warehouse, Smokes in tow.

Wilson was freakishly tall - 6 feet 4 according to Tim’s intel, and she was having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Sensing this, the old man slowed down for her, face softening when his eyes landed on her. Barf.

“Impressed so far?” He asked, voice dripping with amusement.

“I didn’t know you spoke Japanese.” She replied honestly.

He shrugged, but she could tell he was beaming with pride. He must have been really happy to catch her off guard like this. “Well, I’ve been to many places and seen many things. What kind of leader would I be if I couldn’t converse with my business partners?” 

“Ask him if Nakamura is a business partner.” Barbara’s voice almost made her jump; she’d forgotten the woman was still there.

“And Nakamura is a business partner?” She attempted, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Wilson took the bait, not noticing the way her hands were trembling slightly. “Yes, indeed. Though he’s been a bit useless lately, being behind bars and all. Still, we provide him with… services, in exchange for his weapons.”

“And then you sell his weapons,” Smokes added without thinking and bit the inside of her cheek when she realized she’d revealed too much.

Wilson stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at her, smirk widening. Her heart dropped in her chest. Had she messed up? Did he suspect she was wired? Was he going to kill her then and there? “Well, well, well. Very good, my sweet Taser. Someone’s been paying close attention.”

Even Barbara sighed in relief. “Don’t worry, Maverick, he just thinks you’re smart. You’re doing great, keep up the good work.”

“I’m just putting some things together, that’s all.”

“I expected nothing less of you.” He complimented, but it sounded wrong, sour on his tongue. It sounded nothing like when Dick complimented her, eyes gleaming and full of respect for her. No, Wilson was looking at her like he wanted to… shit. He was undressing her with his gaze again.

Smokes swallowed past the knot in her throat, trying to ignore the way his eyes trailed her every movement, like he wanted to take her then and there. It made her sick, but she couldn’t afford for him to notice the way her whole body was shaking with familiar fear. “So, what are you going to do with Nakamura?”

The question sobered him up long enough for him to stop eye-fucking her. “We’re planning on breaking him out of Gotham Penitentiary soon.”

“Ask when. Shit. We need to prepare for that attack.” Barbara urged, typing something away on her computer.

“How soon?”

Wilson raised his brow. Perhaps he found the question suspicious, and Smokes bit her lip nervously. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked it, should’ve just kept her mouth shut.

At last, Wilson opened his mouth to speak. But no words came out as a cry erupted in the horde of workers, people stepping aside as a wild man came rushing at them. Wilson frowned, eyeing the man that was dashing towards them- no, towards her.

Smokes recognized him for a split-second before he charged at her, his lone eye brimming with hatred when he met her brown.

It was the Japanese man she’d blinded all those months ago.

Chapter Text

Everything happened in the blink of an eye: one minute the one-eyed man was charging at her, yellow teeth on display as he snarled at her - the next, Slade Wilson was standing between the two of them, grabbing the man’s face without batting an eye and holding him in the air.

The Japanese man thrashed and struggled, hissing hideously “Her! She did it! I’ll kill her!” and clawing at Wilson’s hand on his face. Wilson’s expression was impassive when he drawled “No, you won’t”.

And then he smashed the Japanese man into the ground with so much force the earth shook and a cloud of dust picked up. Smokes couldn’t stop the scream that ripped through her throat, especially not when Wilson lunged forward to punch the man. The Japanese man could barely whimper, blood gushing out of his nose and mouth as Wilson continued to beat him violently.

“Maverick, Maverick, look away.” Barbara’s voice boomed in the earpiece, but she sounded very distant. “Maverick, take your eyes off the man. You’re only going to get sick. Trust me.”

Smokes’ entire body was shaking when her eyes met the man’s lone eye. He could barely breathe, and his whole body was now disfigured from Wilson’s heavy blows. Some of his bloody teeth lay on the ground in front of him, and that was the last straw. Smokes turned around with her remaining strength, shaking like a leaf, and doing her best to keep the bile in.

“That’s good, Mav, that’s really good.” Barbara cooed. “Now, don’t turn around. Wait for Wilson to be finished, ok?”

She nodded slowly, not caring if anybody questioned her gesture. But most of Wilson’s workers didn’t even pay attention to the brutal clash, walking past the scene without batting an eye, like this was an everyday occurrence. Smokes shuddered at the thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man stopped whimpering and she heard the sound of Wilson’s boots crushing the stones under his feet, approaching her. His hand landed on her lower back, right above the curve of her ass, and she cringed so hard Wilson grabbed onto the hem of her cardigan to hold her upright.

He lowered his mouth to her ear, ignoring the way she was shivering from head to toe. “Let’s get out of here, my sweet Taser.”

Every muscle had gone numb, and she could barely feel her body as Wilson guided her to another small building. She wanted to scream, wanted to run and hide and most importantly shove his hand off of her, but her brain could barely form a coherent thought, let alone command her limbs to do anything.

They stopped in front of an iron door, and Wilson opened it with a special key strapped to his jeans. She glanced at his hand then, and instantly regretted it because it was covered in blood. The man’s blood. The man, who probably wasn’t even alive anymore, all because-

“Stay here. I need to take care of something.” Wilson nudged her gently inside, closing the door behind her softly.

Smokes was so shell-shocked she could barely take in her surroundings. She could distantly hear Barbara’s voice calling for her, an endless string of “Maverick. Maverick. Breathe? Are you ok?”s echoing in her mind as she surveyed the space in front of her.

It was an office. A small, shabby office, with a simple wooden desk and a couple of libraries. A green swivel sat behind the desk, while two metal foldable chairs were settled in front of it. The shelves were filled with colorful binders, so at odds with the tattered brown walls of the room, and a small laptop sat atop the desk.

“Maverick. Maverick, I’ve just finished analyzing the room. There are no hidden cameras. You can speak freely.” Barbara tried again, trying to snap her out of her daze. “Maverick?”

Smokes took a tentative step forward, collapsing on one of the metal chairs. Her mind was still reeling, images of the Japanese man being beaten to death into the ground flashing before her. Fuck. Had Wilson killed a man for her? She knew this man was a dangerous psychopath, but she hadn’t thought…

Oh god, she was going to puke again.

“Smokes.” She startled at the sound of the deep, familiar masculine voice, so different from Barbara’s chirpy, high-pitched one. Every muscle went lax the instant his reassuring lilt reached her ears.

“Dick.” She whispered, blinking in confusion. How was he…? He wasn’t supposed to be talking to her.

“Smokes, you’re fine. You’re safe. Well, as safe as you can be.” He joked, and she couldn’t help but snort at his remark.

“Yeah. I… is he… is he dead?” She dared to ask, heart sinking in her chest at Dick’s sigh.

“We don’t know. But don’t worry about that.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry about that’? Dick, he killed that man because of me .”

“No, he did not. Wilson killed that man because he’s a lunatic. At no point did you ask him to kill him, none of this is your fault, ok?” His voice scolded sternly, but Smokes could only nod unconvincingly. “Nope, I need to hear you say it. Out loud.”

“I’m not a child, Dick.” She sputtered indignantly, crossing her arms.

“There she is.” He teased, his voice and attitude so familiar it instantly relaxed her. “You’re not a child, but you’re someone who just witnessed a very bloody fight for the first time. So I’m afraid I’m not going to bug off until I hear you say it.”

She faked a scoff, trying to hide her smile. “Fine. It’s not my fault. Happy?”

“That was the worst attempt at a lie I’ve ever seen. Try again.”

“Ok, ok! It’s not my fault! None of this is my fault.” She raised her hands in surrender, before remembering they couldn’t see her movements anyways.

“Good girl.” Her stomach lurched at the nickname, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or unwelcome. No, it was a warm, sizzling feeling. Familiar, even. “You’re doing really good, Smokes, believe me. You have Wilson wrapped around your finger. Hang in there just a while longer, alright?”

She opened her mouth to reply when the door to the office slammed open, and her head whipped to watch Wilson walk in and close it behind him. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized he was covered in even more blood than she’d first realized.

And then her blood boiled. How dare he act like a possessive jerk and kill a man when she hadn’t asked anything from him? When she didn’t want anything from him?

“Eat him alive, sweetheart.” Dick’s voice echoed one last time in her mind, his words dripping with pride and trust. Barbara’s voice resonated an instant later. “We now resume your regularly scheduled program. Sorry about that, Mav, Dick overrode my systems, the ass. It’s you and I again.”

Wilson circled the desk, dropping in the metal chair beside her. He crouched forward, raking his eyes up and down her body again and-

“Stop eye-fucking me.” The words, laced with fury, left her mouth before she could weigh the pros and cons of flipping off a dangerous crime boss.

To his credit, the man stopped looking at her like she was a three-course meal, raising his head to meet her angry gaze. He smiled. “Apologies. Though, I think I made my intentions perfectly clear when I offered you this job.”

“Barf. Isn’t this man like 104 years old? Does he honestly think he has a chance?” Barbara’s comment nearly made her laugh.

Smokes held his gaze - and her ground. “And I think I made it perfectly clear that I was not interested in you that way. This test trial is about the job - nothing more, nothing less.”

“And there is nothing I can say or do to change your mind?” Wilson sighed, disappointed.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Not even bringing that man to you?” He attempted again, and she knew instantly whom he was referring to. Dr. Wilkins. Her ears started ringing, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

“ Maverick, who is he talking about? ” She ignored Barbara’s question.

She spat. “I don’t want you to kill a man for me.”

Wilson chuckled low. “Oh, I wouldn’t kill him. I would merely strap him down so you could kill him after torturing him and inflicting whatever punishment you deemed appropriate.”

“I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“Ah, Batman’s mantra. I should have figured.” Smokes frowned. What did Batman have to do with this? Why was he bringing up the vigilante?

She decided to ignore the comment, focusing on the matter at hand. “Did you kill him?”

“Who?”

“The Japanese man.”

Wilson furrowed his brows for a few seconds before understanding finally hit him. “Ah, you mean Makoto?”

“Yes.” She was growing impatient, and his teasing tone was only aggravating. “Did you kill him?”

“What do you think?” He challenged, sitting back and crossing her arms, and her heart dropped in her chest again. Oh god. He’d really killed him. 

“Maverick, you’re fine. Just breathe.” Barbara tried to reassure her, and while she appreciated the effort, her attempt was nothing compared to Dick’s soothing, calming voice. Fuck, she really missed him.

“I didn’t ask you to kill him.” She scolded, but Wilson scoffed in response.

“He tried to kill you! Are you honestly saying I shouldn’t have murdered him?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I didn’t want that, and you shouldn’t have done anything without asking me first.”

One look at his dark, furious eyes was enough to confirm that Wilson’s tolerance had run out. His emotionless, merciless mask was back on, and Smokes swallowed hard when he bent towards her. One of his hands grabbed onto the collar of her cardigan, pulling her forward with a yelp, while the other landed on her thigh.

Smokes wanted to scream, but the sound was stuck in her throat. She could feel his warm breath fanning her face, his hand snaking up her thigh slowly, and she wanted to die.

“That man,” He drawled quietly, hand moving dangerously close to her crotch. “Was going to kill you. I did what I had to do to protect you. I’ve made what I want from you abundantly clear, and this is just me proving I’m a man of my word.”

Smokes met his icy blue eyes, shining with hunger and desire. She remembered, then, what he’d told her just four days prior: I want you.

Well.

Too bad she didn’t want him.

Boo fucking hoo.

“Remove your hand from my thigh, Mr. Wilson.” She spoke quietly, every word lethally laced with venom. “Now.”

Wilson’s face shone with possessiveness again, but to his credit, he removed his hand and let go of her cardigan.

“Nicely done, Maverick.” Barbara complimented through the earpiece. “See, Dick, she can take care of herself. Calm your tits.”

The thought of Dick worrying about her struck her hard, and she had to bite her lip to suppress the questions burning on her tongue. Is Dick ok? Can I speak to him? Can someone tell him I’m fine? Please?

A long, awkward silence filled the room. Wilson crossed his arms, staring at her again - though this time he wasn’t eyefucking her. No, he was considering some entirely different issue. She stared right back, mimicking his nonchalant pose despite every nerve in her body being on high alert.

“So,” He eventually broke the silence. “What do you think?”

She blinked in confusion. “About what?”

“My exchange with Kanemaru.”

Ah. That. It felt like a lifetime ago. But Wilson’s words sounded oddly like a challenge… this was a test, she realized. Definitely. She was supposed to have noticed something during that conversation, something Wilson had already noticed.

Smokes racked her brain, trying to remember every detail of the exchange. The very few crates, the wary Japanese man, Kanemaru’s green-tinted hands, the silver liquid contained inside the glass bottle splashing back and forth…

The realization hit her like a truck.

“Kanemaru is lying to you.” She declared confidently. Wilson’s eyebrow twitched upwards, arms still crossed.

“Oh? How so?”

“Those aren’t the only crates he has. He definitely has more stashed away, that he’s keeping away from you.”

He hummed in agreement. “And what makes you say that, my little Taser?”

“His hands. They had a green tinge, and it looked like he tried to wash it off. That’s the plutonium. The weapons contain plutonium, which is a key component of nuclear reactions. That’s the silver liquid inside the weapons. But, when plutonium oxidizes - which is to say, when it comes into contact with air - then it turns yellow or green. Kanemaru hid some crates, and probably broke some of the weapons in the process, hence his green hands.”

She came to a sudden stop, realizing she’d been rambling. But when she looked up at Wilson, the man was smiling. A wide, full-teeth smile that made her shudder.

“Good girl.” He drawled slowly, and her stomach shifted uncomfortably. The nickname sounded wrong in his mouth.

It sounded nothing like when Dick used it.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The rest of the day was far less eventful and consisted mainly of boring meetings where Wilson set up times and places for cargo exchanges. One meeting, in particular, lasted a whole four hours - and, to her dismay, it was a meeting with more German members of MRE.

Wilson, she found out with astonishment, also spoke German and a bit of Markovian. So while her head was swimming during the meeting, not understanding a single word of German, Wilson was having the time of his life.

“Seven languages and a PhD, and you end up in a meeting in German, the one language you don’t speak.” Barbara teased, and Smokes’ irrational hatred towards the woman promptly returned.

At 5:00 PM sharp, Wilson took her back home, rushing to open her car door in what she assumed was supposed to be a chivalrous gesture. Still, Smokes was barely able to look him in the eye and bid him goodbye before she rushed into the safety of her apartment complex. She’d never been happier to see Simon, hugging the confused doorman before heading for the stairs (the elevator was out of service, again ).

When she finally walked into her apartment, she made sure to lock her door as many times as she could before she slid down the surface. She brought her knees to her chest, exhaling a sigh of relief as she closed her eyes. God, this day had been long.

“Maverick, we need to talk.” Barbara’s voice brought her back to reality.

“About what?” She bit out curtly. She was exhausted, she had another similar day ahead of her tomorrow, and the last thing she wanted was to discuss her trauma with Dick’s ex. She was going to murder him for not warning her.

“About this whole revenge thing. What in the world is Wilson talking about? What did he promise you?”

Well. Fuck. She should have known she wouldn’t let it go.

Smokes sighed, rubbing her temples. “Is everybody still listening in?” If she explained this all in front of Dick, he was officially going to lose his shit. He was probably going to drive to her apartment and haul her away to a safe place until he took care of Wilson.

“Yes. But, I can change that. It can be just the two of us if you’d like.” Barbara was trying to reassure her, and it wasn’t her fault she was failing miserably.

Smokes didn’t want to spend a single second alone with Dick’s ex, but she didn’t have a choice. It was Barbara or nothing.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Gotcha. Gimme a sec. Oh, quit whining everyone!” The sound of the woman typing on the keyboard echoed in her mind. “Ok, there we go, now, can you please tell me what Wilson is talking about? And why has he been so flirtatious with you? Nobody told me he had a thing for you.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell anybody,” Smokes muttered, defeated.

“Why not?”

She snorted. “Have you met Dick? He was seconds away from hunting Wilson down himself. If I told him the man was flirting with me on top of everything, he was going to lock me away in a tower Rapunzel style.”

Barbara chuckled heartily. “Ok, you have a point. What about this promise of revenge then?”

“Oh, that’s… Wilson is just talking about some stuff that happened in Oxford. He promised me I could kill a man… or something along those lines, but I immediately turned him down.”

“And I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you didn’t tell Dick because you didn’t want to break his little heart.”

Not how she would have put it, but… “Yes, more or less.” There was a small pause, during which Smokes debated whether the question would be appropriate or not. She decided to hell with it. “Is Dick alright?”

“What?”

“Dick. Is he fine? You keep scolding him. Is he ok?”

“Maverick, you just spent a day in a League of Shadows base surrounded by criminals, witnessed a violent murder, had to defend yourself from the advances of a creepy old man, and you’re worried about Dick being fine?” Barbara sounded absolutely astonished, and Smokes couldn’t exactly blame her.

But she knew Dick. She could still see his desperate blue eyes begging her to stay. She didn’t want him to worry. “I just know him. Just want to make sure he hasn’t driven Jason and Tim crazy already, that’s all.”

The woman snorted in response. “Ah, well, I can assure you he’s definitely been driving them crazy. But he’s fine. He’s just a bit of a mother hen.” There was a beat of silence, before Barbara finally added: “Dick really cares about you. I hope you know that.”

Smokes smiled.

“I do.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The following two days were similarly uneventful, filled with boring meetings and administrative matters that Wilson resolved swiftly. Most of the meetings that week were in German - to taunt her, it seemed - and Smokes promised herself to start a German class as soon as she was done with this sting. Languages were the one thing she was supposed to be useful with, but she was currently completely useless - and she hated it.

The meetings she did understand, however, were far more interesting, and it quickly became apparent that the League of Shadows was struggling. Nightwing and the rest of the Bats had been scarily efficient these past few months, dismantling networks that had been operational for years. But most importantly, Smokes and Dick’s work was discussed more than a few times, and she realized with more than a little pride that all their work was paying off: they’d become one hell of a thorn in their side.

Smokes couldn’t wait to see Dick again, to hug him and tell him You were right! We are making a difference! She felt his absence like a phantom limb, for Barbara never allowed him to take hold of the microphone again, and she couldn’t wait to go back to her usual life.

To the Nest, with Tim’s underwear hanging from all surfaces, to her little car, to their wild investigations, to him.

Home. She couldn’t wait to go back home.

Wilson toned down the flirting, though he never stopped calling her my little Taser, and Smokes couldn’t wait for this whole mission to be over. Still, she needed to find the evidence they needed first. Wilson never left her side, and she hadn’t had a chance to go through his binders or laptop yet.

Everything shifted on the fourth day. When she descended the front steps of her apartment complex, Smokes was surprised to find Wilson standing in the middle of the sidewalk, his brown car nowhere in sight.

Wilson’s whole face lit up as soon as he saw her, and she had to suppress the urge to gag. “My sweet Taser, are you ready?”

“I am… but I don’t see your car.” She said cautiously, glancing left and right for any sign of the vehicle.

The man shook his head and chuckled. “Oh, we won’t be needing that today. We’ll be using something far more impressive.”

But before Smokes had time to question what they would be using exactly, a boom tube appeared right behind Wilson.

“Things are getting juicy,” Barbara commented, and Smokes bit her lip to avoid replying yeah, no shit!

The man bowed. “After you, Taser.”

Smokes bristled, but she didn’t have a choice. She walked into the boom tube, praying the devices would hold under the pressure of the structure, and Wilson followed straight behind her. She’d never been inside a boom tube, and the experience was odd. It was like walking in a long underground tunnel that somehow also messed with the pressure in your ears.

After just a few minutes, the end of the boom tube appeared, and Smokes stepped out of it eagerly. She didn’t like being cooped up in small spaces with Wilson for too long. The boom tube led them to a parking lot, but Smokes was more focused on the tropical background, palm trees and beaches numerous in the distance.

“Welcome to Santa Prisca,” Slade spoke in her ear, startling her and making her flinch. She hadn’t realized just how close he’d gotten. He pointed to a black convertible jeep in the corner of the parking lot. “That’s our ride. Come on, we’re only a 20-minute drive away from the headquarters.”

They settled into the car, Wilson taking the driver’s seat as usual while Smokes silently fumed in the passenger’s seat. She wanted to drive again. She really missed being a glorified chauffeur, or whatever her title had become at this point.

Wind in her hair, Smokes ignored Wilson’s less-than-subtle glances, opting to look at the scenery instead. Santa Prisca was, admittedly, a tropical paradise. Jungles, sand beaches, crystal blue water, birds chirping in the distance… Smokes could see herself living here in the future.

And then the headquarters came into view. The gigantic, imposing heap of metal was such a jarring sight compared to the heavenly scenery surrounding it. Plants and trees were long dead around the base, and an entire jungle had been razed to the ground to make space for a runway.

Nevermind then. She’d find another tropical island to retire, ideally one with no criminal activity.

They drove in silence, reaching the front gate to the headquarters just a few minutes later. The sentinels cowered when they realized who was driving, sputtering “Good morning, Mr. Wilson!” as they rushed to open the gate. Wilson didn’t bother replying, giving them only a small nod before driving ahead.

“Ok, Maverick, you’re in the lion’s den. The real show begins now.” Barbara spoke seriously, but Smokes was barely paying attention to her voice.

Her eyes were riveted on the scene in front of her - more specifically, the hundreds of criminals running back and forth, shouting orders in various languages, laughing, and planning mischief. She recognized some faces from pictures Jason had shown her: Black Spider and Professor Ojo eyed them both suspiciously when the car drove past them, and Rictus gave Wilson a small wave before returning to his previous activity (scolding some other criminals).

Finally, Wilson swerved and parked the jeep in a corner, hopping off the vehicle gracefully and circling to offer her a hand.

“Ew, does he have to offer you his hand every time you exit a vehicle?” Barbara commented, mouth full of something, and Smokes was inclined to agree. She nonetheless took the man’s hand, dismounting less elegantly, and quickly rushed to follow him as they navigated the packed runaway.

Almost everybody stopped to greet Wilson - some merely hushed quiet “Good morning” s filled with respect, while others took the time to walk beside him and exchange some small talk. Smokes tried to make herself as small as possible, but most criminals didn’t even glance at her, too focused on pleasing Wilson.

They finally reached a towering building, which Smokes assumed to be the main one, and found two women waiting for them at its front doors. She instantly recognized them: Cassandra Savage, arms crossed and long hair slicked back, and Lady Shiva, chin held high with arrogance. Lady Shiva was holding a black bag in her right arm and seemed eager to show its contents to Wilson. Unlike the rest of the criminals on the base, both women instantly looked at Smokes, analyzing her from head to toe - probably to determine whether she posed any significant threats.

“Ladies,” Slade Wilson greeted, tipping his head.

“Deathstroke,” Cassandra called, eyes still glued to Smokes’ figure. “I hope the trip was pleasant.”

“Indeed. All thanks to the great company.” He teased, and Smokes resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They’d barely even spoken. He turned to Shiva. “Did you do what I asked you to do?”

“Of course. Followed one of the novices and found the missing crates. A whole warehouse filled with them!” Shiva mocked, holding the black bag in front of her.

“Good. Kanemaru?”

“Taken care of. I’ll show you.” Smokes felt the dread rising when Lady Shiva’s hands reached for the bag’s zipper, eagerly opening it and grabbing its contents.

Oh god. Oh god, she was going to puke. Because there, in between Shiva’s slender fingers, was none other than Kanemaru’s head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’d told Wilson that Kanemaru had been going behind his back, and he had him fucking beheaded.

She was going to be sick again.

“Maverick. Breathe. Look away.” Barbara’s urgent voice immediately came through, and this time Smokes followed her orders immediately. She lowered her gaze to her trembling hands, hoping no one else had noticed how uncomfortable she’d become.

She felt Wilson smile beside her. “Good. Very good. A quick word in private, Lady Shiva?”

The woman bowed in response, and the two of them stepped away. They stopped a few feet away from them, whispering things in hushed tones. That left Smokes alone with Cassandra Savage, and her heart immediately started pounding in her chest.

Stay on her good side. Remember, stay on her good side. You can do it.

Smokes dared a glance at the woman and instantly regretted it. Her onyx eyes were studying her very closely, narrowed in suspicion. For a few beats, nobody said anything. Savage was the first to break the tension.

“Ah, so you’re Deathstroke’s new pet,” She taunted slowly, a small smirk spreading on her face.

Smokes’ nostrils flared in anger despite her fear. “I’m not one’s pet.”

“Sure. Whatever you say. Deathstroke may be getting old, but he still has his needs. And he certainly didn’t pick you out for your brains.” She took a step closer, lowering her head to hers. “Tell me, is the old man still capable of delivering in bed? I heard he was a real stallion when he was younger.”

“I wouldn’t know, given that I’m not sleeping with him.” She crossed her arms in defiance, looking Cassandra up and down. “Though maybe you could ask him for a demonstration. Unless you’re not his type, of course, which seems highly probable.”

“Shots fired,” Barbara commented, laughing, and Smokes beamed with pride at the compliment.

The comment wiped the smirk off her face in an instant. “Watch what you say, cunt.” She spat at her.

The word cunt caused a flurry of images to spring at the forefront of her mind, but she quickly dismissed the memory. This was not the time to dwell on that.

“I’d be careful if I were you. You might have Deathstroke wrapped around your finger, but I don’t trust you. And neither does Shiva. I’d watch your back if I were you.”

Smokes opened her mouth to retaliate, praying her brain would come up with some witty comment, but their exchange was interrupted by the return of Wilson and Shiva.

The old man instantly came to her side, nudging her towards the doors to the building. “That will be all, Shiva, Savage. I trust you with this.”

Shiva bowed again. “Of course, you can trust us.”

Wilson waved a small goodbye as he pushed the doors open, allowing Smokes to step in front of him. They were once again silent as they waited for an elevator, and even more so during the ride up to the sixteenth floor.

They stepped into a green-carpeted hallway, Smokes following Wilson closely as he navigated the halls. He finally stopped in front of a wooden door with a wooden plaque that read “Deathstroke, Slade Wilson”, stepping aside to let her in first.

One look at the room was enough to determine that this was Wilson’s real office. The whole space was incredibly fancy, with an imposing wooden oak desk, a plush red rug, and shelves filled with philosophical titles and more binders. But what really caught her eye was the massive computer placed on the wooden desk.

“Bingo. That’s it. That’s where you need to plug your USB key, Maverick.” Barbara confirmed, voice very serious.

Smokes did her best not to look at the computer for too long, turning instead to admire the view. One of the walls of the office was entirely made of glass, and overlooked the entirety of the headquarters and the island beyond it. She took a step towards the window, admiring the scenery. It was, admittedly, absolutely breathtaking.

“This could all be yours.” Smokes’ entire body froze when two warm hands landed on her hips, holding her softly yet possessively. Wilson was standing right behind her, only a hair’s width separating their two bodies and his breath fanning the top of her head.

She resisted the urge to puke when he lowered his head to her ear, mouth brushing her ear. “If you wanted it, this could all be yours. I’ll give it to you. Say the word, and it’s yours.”

Smokes couldn’t move, could barely breathe as he whispered in her ear. All she could focus on were the warm hands on her hips, so similar to that night, and images were flashing. She was stuck again, stuck like she’d been that night, but this time she wouldn’t get out of it because nobody was there to save her. Smokes knew she was panicking, yet despite her efforts, her throat couldn’t form a single word-

“Maverick. Maverick. Calm down.” Barbara was attempting to help, but her voice sounded fuzzy and distant. Maybe if she didn’t say anything Wilson would take the hint and just remove his hands?

Wrong.

Wilson took the silence as an invitation, sliding his hands further in front, almost reaching for her groin, and that’s when she snapped. Smokes flinched so hard she sent him flying backward, taking multiple steps away to put as much space as possible between the two of them.

“Mr. Wilson,” She spoke slowly, praying that he couldn’t read the sheer terror in her eyes. “Like I’ve already told you, I’m not interested in you like that.”

Wilson blinked as if this was the first time anybody had dared say no to him. “I understand your reluctance, after everything that happened in Oxford-”

“This has nothing to do with what happened in Oxford.” Smokes spat so hard her teeth chattered. All she could think about was Dick listening in on this conversation from the Nest, and the last thing she wanted was for him - and everybody else - to hear what had happened from Wilson’s mouth. This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out. She was going to sit him down and tell him calmly, and then everything would be fine. “I am not interested in you like that. I’ve made it clear multiple times already, and I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Then why are you here?” Wilson questioned angrily. “You’re not here for revenge, and you’re not here for me, so what do you want?”

Fuck. This was it. Wilson was going to find out, and her whole cover was going to be blown, and he was going to shoot her in the head and-

The chime of a phone resonated throughout the room, and it took Wilson a split second to realize it was his phone. He sighed when he read the name on the display and brought the device to his ear. Smokes had never been so thankful for a phone call before, hiding her sigh of relief as best as she could.

“Yes?” Wilson answered, then hummed. “I see. Ok. I’ll be down in a minute.” He hung up abruptly, running a hand through his thinning hair. “They need me for something. I’ll leave you here for a little, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Smokes could only nod, legs still shaking and threatening to buckle from the previous fear.

Wilson headed straight for the door, then abruptly stopped. He turned to face her. “This conversation is not over. We will continue it once the test trial is over.”

And with those parting words, he was gone.

Smokes inhaled so sharply that she disturbed the microphone’s signal, and she heard Barbara cringe.

“This is your chance, Maverick. The computer is all yours.”

Smokes didn’t need her to repeat it twice. She tucked her fear away, just like she’d done that night, promising herself to revisit it and comb through all of it one day, and rushed to the desk. She dropped onto Wilson’s regal office chair, turning on the computer screen as she scrambled for the USB key stitched in her sleeve. The device was tiny, and it took a few seconds of fumbling to retrieve it. She quickly pushed it into one of the USB key ports, holding her breath as she waited for something to go wrong.

But, luck was on her side, for nothing went wrong. No, the device instantly started overriding the system, hacking into it with no problem and starting a copy of the whole hard drive.

“Bingo. Congratulations, Maverick, you’re almost out of there.” Smokes was this close to crying from relief. She was so done with this mission, with Wilson’s disgusting advances, with all these criminals staring at her like a traitor.

She just wanted to go home. She wanted to see Dick, and hug him, and tease Tim together, and do everything they always did. She wanted to tell him about Oxford, and finally let go of this weight on her shoulders. She just wanted to tell him that she-

“Shit.” Barbara’s curse interrupted her reverie, and Smokes’ body went tense with panic.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“There’s nothing about Nakamura and the MRE here. This… is good, but not what we were looking for. This probably isn’t Wilson’s main office, he must have another one with the rest of the documents.”

All of her hopes and dreams crumbled. Shit.

She was going to have to get through three more days of Wilson, after all.

Chapter Text

“This is a terrible idea,” Dick repeated for what felt like the 100th time of the day, earning a collective groan in response.

He glanced at the clock on the Nest’s wall - a recent addition bought by Smokes, for apparently it was “criminal not to have a single time-telling machine in this mess”— 8:50 AM. Soon, Smokes would start her undercover mission. She’d be working for Wilson for a week, and would hopefully find enough evidence to put him behind bars.

His stomach hollowed out at the thought of Smokes and Wilson working together, all alone, for such a long time. Dick physically couldn’t forget his last interaction with her: the way she’d attempted to make a joke, the way he hadn’t found the strength to laugh at it, the way she’d promised to come back.

And then, the way she’d looked at him. For the first time since he’d met her, Dick hadn’t been able to decipher what she was thinking, what she was feeling. She almost looked… remorseful, and something more, and Dick had been tempted then and there to get on his knees and beg her not to go.

He had been so tempted.  So so tempted to say I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you, and if anything happens to you, I’m afraid I will never get over it. Don’t go. Stay here, and let me love you. Please. But he didn’t of course. Because she didn’t trust him. That night, in the car, he’d asked her to trust him, to tell him what had happened, to give him a chance. And she’d shut down on him.

So he hadn’t told her how much he loved her, and he hadn’t begged her to stay. Because how could he expect her to trust him with her heart when she didn’t even trust him with whatever had happened in Oxford?

The night in the car still haunted him. He could remember everything in vivid detail: the way Smokes had closed her eyes shut when he’d asked her, the way she’d inhaled sharply, and the way her voice had cracked when she’d replied with her usual “It’s complicated”. His heart had dropped in his chest, and Dick had done his best to hide his disappointment, but Smokes must have sensed just how hurt he’d been because she’d scrambled to explain it to him.

“Dick, something tells me you’re going to be absolutely insufferable this week.” Jason yawned in his sleeve, staring at Tim’s computer screen. He wasn’t much of a morning person and had vehemently protested when Bruce had summoned him.

The four of them were currently at the Nest, Tim and Jason sitting in front of the former’s computer, while Dick and Bruce shared his own. Both screens displayed all of Smokes’ devices: the camera, the microphone, her vitals, the GPS, the state of the USB key… it would be just like being with her.

Except he wouldn’t be able to speak to her, Dick thought with a pang of hurt. For the past six months, Dick had seen and talked to Smokes almost every single day. He’d been able to bask in her frowns and pouts, in her cute rambling when he somehow managed to trick her into talking about physics, in her smiles once she’d melted, in her laughter that lit up his heart.

And now he wouldn’t get anything for a week. Well, he’d get to watch her risk her life over and over again, which wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.

“Hello? Maverick? Do you copy?” Barbara’s voice finally boomed from the other line.

Dick had personally asked Barbara to oversee the mission. They were still on good terms - it was hard not to be, after five years of a loving relationship - and he trusted her wholeheartedly to protect Smokes. That, and the other alternative was Artemis, and he was still mad at the woman.

Dick had sent over 100 emails over the past month, to every member of the League he could remember, trying to convince them to give Smokes the clearance - or, at the very least, to let him argue his case and organize a revote. So far, his efforts had been futile, but he wasn’t one to give up so easily.

Dick glanced at the other camera displayed on his computer screen, which showed the Justice Leaguers following the mission from the headquarters in Washington: Aquaman, Kid Flash, Blue Beetle, Wonder Woman, Superman, Superboy, Miss Martian, Martian Manhunter, Tigress, and Wonder Girl. Tim and Cassie had been making heart eyes at each other for the past hour, and Dick was very close to smashing his head into the table.

Everybody was on high alert, ready to come to Smokes’ rescue if anything wrong, and Dick had never been more grateful for his family of superheroes.

Dick watched attentively as Barbara instructed Smokes to move around and carried out some last-minute tests to make sure everything was in order. Smokes did as she was told, skipping around her apartment in a way that made him laugh while he tried to take in as many details as possible. He’d never been to Smokes’ apartment but wasn’t surprised by the sheer amount of shelves filled with books in many different languages. The apartment was spacious and clean, albeit a bit… sad. Like she’d never probably made it her own since she’d moved in. Maybe after Oxford-

No, Dick scolded himself. No time to think about Oxford now.

Smokes eventually stopped in front of her bathroom mirror, allowing Barbara and the rest of them to see her face as he spoke. This meant he also saw the way her face instantly fell when Barbara introduced herself.

Fuck. He had mentioned Barbara to her a few times. Maybe he should have given her most of a heads-up? He hadn’t thought she would care about working with his ex.

But if Smokes’ deep frown and adorable pout were anything to go by, she was royally pissed. Her eyebrows were creased like they always were when she was annoyed, her lips pressed thin while she answered Barbara curtly. She almost looked… jealous? No. This was just his own delusion speaking. Smokes had no reason to be jealous, he was just reading into things.

Still, she did look unmistakably annoyed.

“Well, Dick and the rest of the ba- boys are following from the Nest. And we have some Justice Leaguers monitoring the situation.”

They all physically cringed at Barbara’s last-minute save. She was about to say the bats, and Dick wasn’t sure what would have happened then. He side-glanced at Bruce, but his father’s face was impassive. He’d been trying to bring up the “Smokes should be aware of our secret identities, especially if she’s going on undercover missions and risking her life like this!” issue with him, but Bruce had been swiftly avoiding him.

Well. Nothing a good email couldn’t fix.

Everybody held their breath when Smokes’ phone dinged with a message. She brought the device to her chest, and they all got to read what Wilson had written.

Wilson: I’m waiting downstairs, my little Taser.

Dick’s nostrils flared, jaw setting. “This is a terrible idea.”

Jason groaned again, though perhaps it was disgust from reading the message. “So you’ve said, Dickhead, like 500 times in the past hour.”

“Dick, please, this mission hasn’t even started. She can take care of herself, keep it together.” Babara’s voice scolded while Smokes descended the stairs, oblivious to the conversations that were happening.

Wilson was a disgusting pervert, there was no doubt about that in Dick’s mind. He was 99% certain Smokes had glossed over a few details of their encounter, because from the way he’d been speaking to her during the phone call and from this message - not to mention the disgusting nickname - it was clear as day that Wilson was flirting with her.

Dick wanted to throw him in a human-sized blender and watch him die a slow, painful death.

But yeah, he was totally fine.

Bruce sighed beside him, standing up. “You need coffee. I’m going to get you a mug.” The man shuffled into the Nest’s little kitchen, and the sound of the coffee machine whirring soon filled the apartment.

Dick didn’t need a goddamn coffee. He needed Smokes to come home, safe and sound. If Wilson laid a single finger on her, he would fucking murder him.

They all watched in tense silence as Smokes walked out of her apartment complex, steps faltering just slightly when her eyes landed on Wilson’s beaming figure. The 64-year-old man looked absolutely delighted to see her, and Dick wanted nothing more than to wipe the smile off of his face.

“Steady, Mav, steady. You’re doing good. Just act natural.” Barbara’s voice boomed in the room, trying to reassure the young woman.

“Taser.” Wilson smiled when she stood in front of him, taking her hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on it. Dick’s teeth chattered so hard that both Tim and Jason whipped their heads to look at him. He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms to hide how he clenched his fists in frustration.

When they arrested Wilson, he was going to beat him into a fucking bloody pulp and-

“This is a terrible idea. We should have never let her go.” He repeated, and Jason gave him a vulgar gesture in return.

“Wait, wait, wait, shut up you two. What in the world is he saying?” Tim shushed them, typing away on his computer to raise the volume of the microphone. Bruce returned from the kitchen, handing Dick a burning mug of coffee as he watched the scene unfold with interest.

“... do tell me, what changed your mind? Was it the promise of revenge?” Wilson smirked happily while Smokes’ entire body went rigid.

Revenge? What revenge? She hadn’t mentioned anything about revenge when she’d told him the story the dozens of times he’d demanded. What was she hiding? Why wouldn’t she tell him about this? Unless… unless this was about Oxford.

Dick was losing his mind from not knowing. But he also knew that Smokes would be ten times more hurt if he simply went to read her file to find out.

Was it too much to ask for her to trust him?

“Maverick. What does he mean by that? What did he promise you?” Barbara’s panicked voice immediately came through. The Justice Leaguers looked equally confused at the comment, Wonder Woman’s face set in a deep frown.

Tim turned to Dick. “Did she tell you about this?”

“No, she didn’t.” He admitted, shaking his head.

“It’s- No. I told you, I don’t want revenge. I haven’t changed my mind about that.” Smokes replied, catching herself before she answered Barbara’s question instead, and the only coherent thoughts Dick could form were “Good girl” and “Please marry me”.

Dick gripped his mug tightly as he watched Wilson lead Smokes to the car, opening the door to the passenger’s seat for her.

“She hates being in the passenger’s seat. She likes being in control of the situation, you can’t put her in the passenger’s seat.” He muttered under his breath, frowning in displeasure at all the chivalrous efforts Wilson was making. For someone who claimed to want Smokes, he clearly had no idea what type of person she was.

“Dick, for the love of god, she’s been in there for ten seconds, you need to keep it together!” Barbara scolded him, and Smokes visibly reacted at the mention of his name. She’d forgotten to turn off her mic, it seemed. 

Jason, Tim, and Bruce all glared at him, and Kid Flash and Blue Beetle were audibly snickering at the JL headquarters. Dick brought the mug of coffee to his lips to hide his pout.

“Sorry about that, Maverick, Dick was just being… well, Dick. You know how he gets. You’re doing amazing so far, don’t worry, alright?”

Smokes dared a small, invisible nod, turning to look at Wilson. The old man was humming happily, glancing at her from time to time with a smirk. The sight made Dick’s blood boil, his murderous rage resurfacing almost instantly.

“This is-”

“-a terrible idea,” Jason sighed, banging his head on the desk. “We know, Dick, we know.” He shook his head at Bruce when the man offered him a mug of coffee. “I don’t need coffee. What I need is about ten tequila shots and a sedative for Dickhead over there.”

True to his word, Jason went to search the Nest for liquor - “or literally anything that will tune out Dick’s comments” - under Bruce’s disapproving yet somewhat understanding eye, while Wilson drove Smokes somewhere. They weren’t heading to Santa Prisca just yet, but hopefully, Wilson would reveal some other League of Shadows base they were unaware of.

Smokes looked very tense, replying to Wilson’s questions in monosyllabic words and trying to disappear into the passenger’s seat. Dick was still fuming at that: what dumbass would put Smokes in the passenger seat? She hated it. She was made for driving.

Wilson eventually pulled up at the port base - which unfortunately they were well aware of.

“Yeah, we’ve been aware of this one for a while. We were just waiting to have a maximum of criminals and cargo there to apprehend them all together.” Barbara commented as Smokes and Wilson walked through the port. She then turned off her mic for Smokes, speaking for the bats and the Justice League only. “We really should take down this place once Maverick’s undercover mission is over. We’ve let it run rampant far too long.”

Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter shared a glance, and the latter cleared his throat before replying. “We were hoping some artifacts we are looking for would show up there eventually, but yes, we will see to this matter.”

They watched as Wilson and Smokes navigated the crowd of criminals, the former strutting with confidence while Smokes kept close and whipped her head from side to side. Despite her apparent fear, she was doing her best, following Barbara’s orders to the letter and sticking to Wilson’s side.

The sight of them together made Dick want to barf. He hated that man, like he’d never hated anyone before. When he got his hands on him, he was going to-

He opened his mouth to speak, but Jason placed a finger on his lips and shushed him. “This is a terrible idea. We know, Richard. If you’re going to complain, at least come up with something a little more original.”

Dick glared at him, bringing the mug to his lips and taking one long gulp.

Wilson slid the heavy doors of a red-brick building open, revealing a bustling, loud room that fell quiet almost instantly. Bruce moved closer to the screen, taking a good look at the men surrounding them while Wilson and Smokes approached a stack of crates. He frowned, causing Dick to take a better look. He realized what his father had noticed a split second after him.

“They’re all Japanese,” Dick muttered in astonishment.

Bruce hummed. “Yes. They’re Nakamura’s missing men. We never got them all, but I guess we know where they are now.”

Barbara relayed the information to Smokes, and they all watched as Wilson ordered the men in Japanese. “I didn’t know the old pervert spoke Japanese,” she commented, slurping some sort of beverage quite loudly.

“Neither did we,” Tim replied, updating his intel sheet on Deathstroke.

Everybody - both at the Nest and the JL headquarters - collectively cursed when they realized what the crates contained: Nakamura’s nuclear weapons.

“I thought we’d sequestered them all,” Superman spoke pensively.

“Apparently not,” Jason cursed, nursing the kid’s champagne he’d found buried deep in a closet - a bottle they’d bought for Damian’s seventh birthday (but Dick wasn’t about to tell him that, he’d let his brother get sick over expired non-alcoholic champagne first).

They all held their breath when Wilson aimed the weapon at the man named Kanemaru, and they weren’t the only ones. According to Smokes’ vital, she was hardly breathing herself, and the rest of the Japanese mob looked similarly pale.

When Wilson and Smokes finally left the building, Dick exhaled a sigh of relief and Jason side-glanced at him.

“If you’re about to say this was a terrible idea again-”

“I wasn’t,” Dick interrupted, rolling his eyes. “But my point stands. This is a terrible idea.”

Jason whistled. “Aaand, there it is.”

“Not only that, but you’re all a lot of hypocrites. You send Smokes on these dangerous missions, in the lion’s fucking den, yet you refuse to share our secret identities with her. You can’t have it both ways: either we don’t tell her to protect her, and thus we don’t send her on these life-threatening missions, or we come clean and tell her everything to let her help us.”

Both the Nest and the JL headquarters went quiet, Jason’s teasing smirk disappearing from his face instantly. Everybody suddenly looked uncomfortable, playing with their hands or whatever object they had at their disposal. Dick didn't give a damn if they were uncomfortable; they deserved it for voting on a subject so personal to him without talking to him first. 

Dick returned his attention to the screen. Smokes and Wilson had stopped in the middle of the busy port, and were having some conversation about Nakamura. He’d lost track of what was going on, but luckily Barbara was monitoring the situation closely, reassuring Smokes. “Don’t worry, Maverick, he just thinks you’re smart. You’re doing great, keep up the good work.”

“I’m just putting some things together, that’s all.” Smokes’ smooth voice replied, and Dick yearned to hear her in real life again.

“I expected nothing less of you.” Wilson’s compliment shattered the moment. The camera on Smokes’ cardigan registered Wilson’s face, particularly the way he was looking at her, eyes full of… lust. Dick’s grip on his mug tightened painfully. He was undressing her with his gaze, and Dick was going to murder him for it.

“Do you want to say This is a terrible idea, or should I spare you the trouble and do it for you?” Jason tried teasing, but his face fell when he saw the way Dick was tracking each and every one of Wilson’s movements.

One wrong move and Dick would drive down there to take care of the old fucker himself.

“So, what are you going to do with Nakamura?” Smokes’ voice wobbled ever so slightly.

The question sobered Wilson up long enough for him to stop eye-fucking her, and Dick loosened his grip on the mug. “ We’re planning on breaking him out of Gotham Penitentiary soon.”

“Ask when. Shit. We need to prepare for that attack.” Barbara urged, typing something away on her computer. Wonder Woman and Superman scrambled to their feet, rushing out of the room to alert the penitentiary. “Who are the guards on rotation? Who’s overseeing the prisoners? Who’s the Warden?” Barbara charged forward with rapid-fire questions, and Martian Manhunter did his best to reply.

“How soon?” Simultaneously, Smokes was still conversing with Wilson.

Wilson raised his brow, and everybody tensed at the expression on his face. Was he starting to suspect something? He finally opened his mouth to reply, but-

“What’s that?” Tim asked, words laced with panic while he typed on his keyboard to raise the volume. In the distance, they could faintly hear a Japanese man shouting something they couldn’t understand, and within a few seconds, he came into view.

Dick recognized him instantly, the eyepatch unmistakable. He stood to his feet. “Holy shit. That’s the Japanese man Smokes blinded during one of our first missions.”

Bruce cursed. “I thought we had him in custody?”

“He… escaped,” Tigress replied sheepishly.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye: one minute the one-eyed man was charging at Smokes, yellow teeth on display as he snarled at her - the next, Slade Wilson was standing between the two of them, grabbing the man’s face without batting an eye and holding him in the air.

Everybody held their breath, Dick’s hands braced on the desk as they watched the scene unfold. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit. He’s going to kill him,” Tim finally broke the tense silence with hushed words. He was the first to voice the thought, but everybody was thinking it. Wilson was about to murder that man.

The Japanese man thrashed and struggled, hissing things they couldn’t understand in Japanese and clawing at Wilson’s hand on his face. Wilson’s expression was impassive when he drawled “No, you won’t”.

And then he smashed the Japanese man into the ground with so much force the earth shook and a cloud of dust picked up. A scream ripped through Smokes’ throat, and she continued screaming when Wilson lunged forward to punch the man. Dick’s heart dropped in his chest and a pit opened in his stomach as she continued screaming, her vitals going off the charts on the screen. Her heartbeat accelerated exponentially, and she went entirely rigid.

From the way she was screaming, Dick wasn’t sure she was aware that she was screaming. His heart shattered into a million pieces at the realization, fists clenching on the desk. Jason and Tim were cringing beside him, and even Bruce seemed distraught by the whole scene.

“Maverick, Maverick, look away.” Barbara’s voice boomed in the earpiece, but Smokes was frozen in place. She wasn’t looking away. “Maverick, take your eyes off the man. You’re only going to get sick. Trust me.”

“She’s in shock,” Dick mumbled slowly, eyes stinging. Smokes’ entire body was shaking like a leaf, and she was staring right at the Japanese man’s bloody face. “Turn around, Smokes. Turn around.” He whispered, eyes riveted to the screen. 

She finally turned around, though she was still visibly shaking. “That’s good, Mav, that’s really good.” Barbara cooed. “Now, don’t turn around. Wait for Wilson to be finished, ok?” Smokes nodded in response, the whole situation probably causing her to forget she shouldn’t be replying to Barbara so openly. Dick dropped back into his seat from the relief, resting his head on the back of the chair.

Eventually, the Japanese man stopped pleading and whimpering, and the only sound they heard was that of boots crunching dirt. All of a sudden, Smokes flinched so hard the camera stuttered, going static for a few seconds while Barbara and Tim rushed to adjust it.

The camera might have been malfunctioning, but the microphone sure wasn’t. They all heard when Wilson whispered in her ear. “Let’s get out of here, my sweet Taser.” Dick's entire body flared in anger, and he clutched the chair’s armrests so hard they cracked. The crack resonated throughout the whole room, the armrests falling to the floor. Both Tim and Jason turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Jesus, Dick, calm down.” Tim tried to reassure him, not knowing whether to approach him or not.

Jason acquiesced swiftly. “She’s fine, she’s ok.”

But Dick wasn’t looking at them. His face hardened, gaze locked onto the screen. “He has his hands on her her.” was all he said as they watched the scene.

Indeed, Smokes looked like she was barely moving herself, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Wilson’s hands were on her back - maybe even lower, on her ass.

This thought only worsened Dick’s sizzling rage.

Wilson led her to a small building with an iron door, opening it hastily with a special key - and a very, very bloody hand. Smokes shook so hard the whole camera shook, and his heart squeezed at her panic. She’d just witnessed a violent murder, and she wasn’t prepared to deal with something of this magnitude and- he should have never let her go. He should have kept her safe and huddled in blankets at the Nest.

Wilson nudged her inside the office, muttering something about needing to deal with some other matter - probably the dead body now lying in his base - and shut the door behind her.

“Maverick. Maverick. Breathe? Are you ok?” Barbara called, pleaded even, but Smokes wasn’t replying. She was barely moving, and according to her vitals, her heartbeat was still far too fast.

“She’s shellshocked,” Dick murmured, eyebrows creasing in worry.

“Maverick. Maverick, I’ve just finished analyzing the room. There are no hidden cameras. You can speak freely.” Barbara tried again, trying to snap her out of her daze. “Maverick?”

But Smokes failed to reply yet again. The microphone was picking up on her heavy, ragged breathing, and Dick didn’t know what to do to help. Clenching and unclenching his fists like a madman didn’t help, and neither did sipping the mug of coffee. Smokes took a tentative step forward, collapsing on one of the metal chairs. Barbara was still speaking, but Smokes gave no sign that she’d even heard the woman.

Dick exhaled sharply. He couldn’t stay like this and do nothing any longer.

He abruptly stood up, stalking over to Tim’s computer and pushing his brother out of his seat. “Hey, what are you-” Tim yelped as he fell face-first on the floor.

“Dick!” “Richard!” Jason and Bruce exclaimed in unison but did not dare stop him as he started typing. Not when his jaw was set in determination, fingers typing at high speed.

“Dick what are you-” Barbara’s voice came through, equally confused. “Dick, are you hacking into my systems right now? Dick, stop right now or I-” Dick simply muted her microphone. He then lunged for the microphone sitting on Tim’s desk, brought it to his mouth, and spoke.

“Smokes?”

The effect was instantaneous: Smokes startled, the first sign of life in nearly 5 minutes, and her heartbeat calmed down.

“Dick?” She asked, voice unsure - she sounded confused, but at least she seemingly relaxed.

Dick wanted to cry at the sound of the voice. He’d never been so relieved to hear someone in his life. “Smokes, you’re fine. You’re safe. Well, as safe as you can be.” His joke was rewarded with a positive snort that made him beam.

“Yeah. I… is he… is he dead?” She attempted, and Dick couldn’t stop himself from sighing.

“We don’t know. But don’t worry about that.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry about that’? Dick, he killed that man because of me.” She protested immediately. The way she was already blaming herself broke his heart for what felt like the hundredth time of the day.

“No, he did not. Wilson killed that man because he’s a lunatic. At no point did you ask him to kill him, none of this is your fault, ok?” His voice scolded sternly, but Smokes only nodded unconvincingly. “Nope, I need to hear you say it. Out loud.”

“I’m not a child, Dick.” She sputtered indignantly, crossing her arms. He was so relieved to hear her argue, to hear her be stubborn like she always was. He needed to make sure she’d be fine once Wilson came back.

“There she is.” He teased, his voice soft. One glance at her vitals showed him she was relaxing. “You’re not a child, but you’re someone who just witnessed a very bloody fight for the first time. So I’m afraid I’m not going to bug off until I hear you say it.”

She faked a scoff, trying to hide her smile. The familiar gesture made the pit in his stomach clench with want. “Fine. It’s not my fault. Happy?”

“That was the worst attempt at a lie I’ve ever seen. Try again.”

“Ok, ok! It’s not my fault! None of this is my fault.” She raised her hands in surrender, though he only saw the movement as it was happening.

He smiled. She was back. “Good girl.” Her vitals showed a sudden spike in her heartbeat, and he had to fight the urge to tease her about it. He was going to use this nickname far more often now. “You’re doing really good, Smokes, believe me. You have Wilson wrapped around your finger. Hang in there just a while longer, alright?”

She opened her mouth to reply when the door to the office slammed open, and her head whipped to watch Wilson walk in and close it behind him. They all watched the blood-soaked man stride into the room and drop onto the metal chair beside her, though this time-

Smokes was no longer in shock. No, she was furious. Dick smiled: she was going to set him on fire for what he’d done.

“Eat him alive, sweetheart,” Dick said, his words dripping with pride and trust, just as Barbara hacked her way back into the system. The screen with his microphone turned red, a lock appearing on it, and Dick knew what that meant: he wouldn’t find an opportunity to talk to Smokes again. Barbara’s voice resonated an instant later. “We now resume your regularly scheduled program. Sorry about that, Mav, Dick overrode my systems, the ass. It’s you and I again.”

Dick rolled his eyes at the insult, then stood up and returned to his seat. Tim was glaring at him, dusting his clothes off from the fall, and sat down with a little offended “Hmph”.

Jason snickered. “Well, would you look at that. Dick getting all violent for his lady, pushing poor Timmy on the floor like a sack of flour.”

“Shut up, Jason!” Tim and Dick spat in unison.

“Stop eye-fucking me.” Smokes’ angry voice interrupted their argument, and they all startled at the pure fury lacing her words. Bruce, who still standing behind Dick, whistled in astonishment.

Dick only smiled. Oh, yeah, she was going to eat him alive alright. He bent forward to grab his mug, bringing it to his lips with a sly smirk.

Wilson smiled, and Dick couldn’t wait to wipe that smirk off his face. “ Apologies. Though, I think I made my intentions perfectly clear when I offered you this job. ” Ah. This confirmed what he’d feared, after all. Smokes had failed to mention some of the conditions of Wilson’s offer. Why? Maybe she was ashamed, or maybe she… just didn’t trust him. Dick chased that thought away as soon as it sprang into his mind. He didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

“Barf. Isn’t this man like 104 years old? Does he honestly think he has a chance?” Barbara’s comment made Kid Flash and Blue Beetle laugh.

The conversation continued tensely, and Dick’s attention was immediately caught by something peculiar that Wilson said. “Not even bringing that man to you?” Everybody frowned in confusion, and the only person who seemed to have understood what he was talking about was Smokes.

“Maverick, who is he talking about?” But she ignored Barbara’s question.

She spat. “I don’t want you to kill a man for me.”

Wilson chuckled low. “Oh, I wouldn’t kill him. I would merely strap him down so you could kill him after torturing him and inflicting whatever punishment you deemed appropriate.”

Dick could only blink as the gears turned in his head. What man? Who did Wilson want to kidnap for her? Why would Smokes want to kill this man? What had he done to her? Was this all related to Oxford?

“I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“Ah, Batman’s mantra. I should have figured.” Bruce went rigid behind him, and everybody grew tense when Wilson mentioned the superhero’s name.

“Fuck,” Tigress said. “He thinks she knows.”

“Well, obviously, because only a lot of hypocrites would have her work with us without telling her the truth.” Dick spat at her, and Tigress rolled her eyes in response.

“What’s done is done.” Tim interrupted. “We need to make sure she doesn’t find out from Wilson. She’ll have a complete breakdown if she does.”

“Tim is right. We can tell her calmly once the mission is over.” Barbara agreed.

“Except we can’t, since you all voted not to tell her,” Dick muttered under his breath, not thinking much of it.

There was a stunned silence, during which Miss Martian and Superboy looked at each other then at their mentors. Conner was the first to speak. “There was a vote?”

Superman cringed. “Well…”

Barbara sounded equally confused. “When did we vote on this? I don’t remember any vote?”

Tim and Jason glanced at Dick, the latter opening his mouth to speak. “We weren’t aware there had been a vote.”

Dick frowned. “You guys didn’t vote? Artemis organized the vote and all.”

Tigress’ nostrils flared. “That’s not exactly how it went. But, yes, there was a vote. And we decided not to tell her yet.”

“We? Who’s we? You didn’t even include us in the vote!” M’gann exploded, and Dick hadn’t heard her so angry in a long time.

Dick opened his mouth to further argue his case when all of a sudden the camera went static again. Everybody startled in their seat, seemingly having forgotten the discussion Wilson and Smokes were having.

Dick’s heart dropped in his chest, his mouth going dry when he realized what was happening. Wilson grabbed onto the hem of Smokes’ cardigan, holding it tightly in his fist and using it to pull her towards him. Towards his mouth. His other hand was resting on her thigh, slowly snaking its way up, and Dick was fairly certain he wasn’t breathing anymore. 

He was holding onto his mug of coffee like a lifeline, ears ringing as he followed the exchange. How dare he lay his hands on Smokes. How dare he touch her like that. How dare he place his hand on her thigh, right where he had placed his hand just a month prior. There would be nothing left of that man when he’d be done with him.

The muscle in Dick’s jaw ticked so hard it hurt, and his grip on the mug only increased tenfold as they watched Wilson’s hand move dangerously close to her crotch. Dick’s blood was boiling, heart pounding wildly against his ribcage. If he didn’t remove his hands from her in the next two seconds, he was going to go over there and beat him-

“Remove your hand from my thigh, Mr. Wilson.” Smokes spoke quietly, every word lethally laced with venom. His chest swelled with pride, but his anger did not subdue. “Now.”

Wilson’s face shone with possessiveness again, but to his credit, he removed his hand and let go of her cardigan. 

But Dick didn’t relax. No. Far from that. This was only day one, and Wilson was already trying to get into Smokes’ pants. She was going to be there for a week, who knew what else he would do to her? How else he would try to touch her? He would probably try to kiss her, try to undress her, try to fuck her, try to-

Dick didn’t realize his mug had exploded in his hand until he felt the warm coffee splashing all over his pants. “Fuck.” He cursed, standing up abruptly and looking at the remnants of the mug in his hand. He’d gripped the item so hard it had shattered into a million tiny pieces, and all that was left was its handle.

Jason and Tim were staring at him with their mouths slightly agape, and Dick knew the superheroes at the JL headquarters were just as shocked.

“Nicely done, Maverick.” Barbara complimented through the earpiece. “See, Dick, she can take care of herself. Calm your tits.”

But Dick wasn’t listening anymore. He stalked out of the Nest angrily, needing a moment to clear his head. 

He was losing his shit, and he knew it.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Groupchat: Dick has a crush!

Jason (meanie) renamed the groupchat: Dick is losing his shit!

Jason (meanie): Let’s play a game, everyone

Jason (meanie): Take a shot every time Dick loses his shit and says “This is a terrible idea”

Tim: I thought you said we couldn’t create a groupchat for every single thing that happens?

Kaldur: Jason, this is incredibly unprofessional of you. This is a serious mission, not a game.

Kaldur: I’m at 5 shots.

Bart: I’m at 7, personally.

Babs: If we took a shot every time Dick threatened to call off the mission, we wouldn’t be sober enough to actually call off the mission.

Jaime: We’re going to need more than one bottle at the rate he’s at.

Conner : #facts #shotshots #drunktime

Garfield: Conner, please.

Garfield: I beg you. Stop.

Garfield: You’re not a boomer, don’t text like one.

Garfield: It’s been six months, how do you still not have the hang of hashtags?

Jaime liked Garfield’s message.

Bart liked Garfield’s message.

M’gann: I counted 8.

Zatanna: I have no clue what we’re talking about, but I want to play.

Zatanna: I say we go for 10.

Jason (meanie): Oh, there goes 11!

Will: I’m too old to play drinking games.

Tim: Aren’t you the youngest of the clones?

Will: Shut up, Tim.

Jason (meanie): Lucky number 12!

Chapter Text

Dick had been standing in the street, breathing in and out slowly, for at least ten full minutes when Bruce joined him. He’d wanted to cool off and clear his head, but the weather was particularly warm for late March, and he’d been boiling under the sun instead (which hadn’t helped with the anger, at all).

“Dick.” His father spoke, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Oh god. If Bruce was stooping to physical contact, then Dick must have looked completely out of himself.

He glanced at Bruce, attempting to flash a reassuring smile - his father grimaced in response. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’m fine. Sorry about the mug.”

Bruce shook his head. “Nobody cares about the mug.”

“Right.”

Dick sighed, rubbing his temples and looking at the cars driving by. He needed to get himself together. Smokes still had 6 more days of this, and he couldn’t break a mug every time Wilson flirted with her - there wouldn’t be enough mugs in the world for him to break if he did.

He just wanted to keep her safe, to love her, to solve all her problems. Was it too much to ask?

“She’s doing really well,” Bruce continued, voice surprisingly sheepish. “She just passed one of Wilson’s tests. She can take care of herself.”

“I know she can take care of herself.” Dick spat back. “That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her.” 

“Miss Martian and Superboy aren’t happy that they weren’t included in the vote. Neither are Barbara, Jason, and Tim. They’re all arguing with Tigress right now.”

“Really?”

Bruce nodded solemnly. “Yeah. They’ve been arguing for the past ten minutes.”

Dick swallowed, not knowing what else to say. Smokes was the most incredible, selfless, brave woman he’d ever known. But she was also a person who was still dealing with the fallout of whatever had happened in Oxford. He didn’t want to give her anything else to torment her, and he was terrified about what the League of Shadows would do to her if they found out.

“I just think it’s very hypocritical.”

“I know.”

Dick shook his head, turning to face Bruce. “No, I don’t think you do. Do you even realize how much danger she’s in? All the risks she’s running? She’s doing it because she thinks it’s the right thing to do. Because she’s a good person, and she has a kind heart, even if she’s convinced herself of the opposite. She is… she is doing something insanely dangerous. And we can’t even reward her with honesty? That’s not fair.”

A long silence settled between them, Bruce’s eyes never leaving his. His father eventually acquiesced. “You’re right. It’s not.”

Dick opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally caved in and asked the question that had been tormenting him for almost a month now. “What did you vote?”

“What?”

“Did you vote in favor of giving Smokes the clearance? Or did you agree with Artemis?”

Bruce looked down, staring at his feet, and Dick’s stomach hollowed out. “I voted in favor of telling her.”

“You did?” He didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but he’d thought that his father of all people would have voted against revealing the secret to yet another person.

Bruce nodded. “I did. You’re right. She works with you daily, there’s no point in hiding this from her. Not only that, but I trust you, and I trust your judgment. If you think she’s trustworthy, then I believe you.”

“Oh.” Dick was at a loss for words. This was probably the closest Bruce was ever going to get to telling him he loved him.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Bruce teased, bumping his shoulder gently.

“I just… I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d want her to know.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Bruce said quietly, green eyes shining with tears. “And she makes you happy. I can see that. I like her, and I think she’s good for you. I would never stand in the way of your happiness.”

Dick was about to burst into tears right there in the middle of the street like a child. Bruce must have sensed that, must have noticed his lower lip trembling, because he chuckled sheepishly and went in for an awkward hug.

Dick didn’t know what to do, not when his father who’d hugged him maybe three times in the past decade was hugging him. He patted his back a tad stiffly, but Bruce only tightened his hold around him, and so Dick finally melted into the hug.

When he eventually pulled away, they were both on the verge of tears. Bruce attempted a laugh that came out a bit strangled. “Well. Then. We should probably go back up there before Barbara and Jason set Tigress on fire. But…”

“But what?”

“I promise you, as soon as this mission is over, I’ll organize a revote. And you’ll be able to argue your case.”

Dick’s entire face beamed with delight. “Thank you.”

Maybe things would be fine. Maybe Smokes would tell him about Oxford, and he’d reveal their secret identities, and then he’d tell her loved her and… maybe - just maybe - she’d tell him she loved him too.

For the first time in a month, Dick’s entire being flared with hope.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Luckily for Dick’s poort heart - and Jason and Tim’s ears - the following days were far less eventful. Wilson had to attend a surprising amount of meetings (who knew the League of Shadows had this level of bureaucracy?), most of them regarding the German’s involvement with the MRE. Smokes looked restless, and Dick guessed not understanding what was being said unsettled her.

Wilson, fortunately, toned the flirting down, focusing on showing Smokes the ropes of his job and discussing the Justice League’s threats with his colleagues. Dick still bristled in his seat (Tim had refused to buy a new chair until the mission was over because “what if you break the armrests off that one too?”) every time Wilson called her my little Taser, and Tim and Jason always glanced at him cautiously when he did. They looked ready to restrain him if necessary, and Dick couldn’t exactly blame them. Kid Flash and Blue Beetle had started a tally of all the times Wilson called her the horrid nickname. They were at 54. The fact only increased Dick’s murderous instincts.

But, other than that, the mission was going by without a hitch. Except - well, at the end of the first day, Barbara had locked them all out and discussed with Smokes about Wilson’s so-called “ revenge ” privately. Dick had been furious about not hearing her response, but Barbara had assured them all that it was nothing to worry about. So, unless Smokes told him personally (and that woman was like a vault), he had no way of finding out what had been said.

Everything shifted on the fourth day, when Wilson finally brought her to Santa Prisca. Everybody held their breath when Smokes walked into the boom tube, praying their tech would withhold the pressure - luckily, the camera only briefly went static, and the devices continued working as they had before.

The island was still as it always had been, and the base looked practically untouched despite the Justice League’s many attempts to bring the whole place down.  Dick should have been happy, he supposed, that Wilson had taken her to Santa Prisca - this meant that he trusted her, and brought Smokes closer to stealing important documents. But Santa Prisca was considerably farther away than the port. It would take him at least twenty minutes to get to her if something went wrong, and that window of time was far too long for him: so many things could happen in 20 minutes, and he wasn’t willing to play games when it came to Smokes’ life.

“If there’s one thing I’m not going to miss from this place,” Jason muttered under his breath, chugging some medicine (the expired kid’s champagne had killed his stomach, and he’d spent a whole night throwing up at the manor while Damian patted his back and murmured half-hearted “There, there”s) “It’s the fucking mosquitoes. So many bugs, too many bugs.”

Tim raised a quizzical brow. “It’s… it’s a tropical island, Jason.”

“Exactly. It should be a tropical paradise. And paradise has no mosquitoes, mark my words.”

Bruce deadpanned, staring at his two sons and sighing in defeat. Dick snickered under his breath, returning his attention to Smokes’ camera. She was following Wilson as they walked through the League of Shadows’ headquarters, and they were headed for the main building. 

Dick cursed when he saw the two female figures waiting for Wilson in front of the entrance. “It’s Lady Shiva and Cassandra Savage.”

“You guys briefed her on the villains she could potentially encounter, yes?” Barbara inquired, and Jason scoffed in response.

“Of course, we did, what are we, amateu- holy fucking shit that’s a head.”

Even Bruce’s eyes went wide when they landed on the severed head in Lady Shiva’s hand - it was Kanemaru, the Japanese man from the demonstration. Smokes’ vitals were all over the place again, and Dick was tempted to hack back into Barbara’s systems then and there. Miss Martian had to look away, covering her mouth in disgust, and if Dick hadn’t been so worried for Smokes he would have probably done the same.

If even a team of veteran superheroes was horrified by the sight of the severed head, how could Smokes - a badass, cunning woman, but a civilian nonetheless - not be?

“Maverick. Breathe. Look away.” Barbara’s urgent voice immediately came through, and to Dick’s immense relief, Smokes immediately followed her orders. She lowered her gaze, the hidden camera displaying her trembling hands, and Dick’s heart squeezed in his chest. 

Wilson - God curse him - left Smokes alone with Cassandra Savage, and Dick’s panic flared up all at once. Jason promptly removed the mug of coffee from his hands, muttering something along the lines of “We can’t have you shatter another one” under his breath.

But Dick didn’t react to his jab, couldn’t react when all his senses were on high alert. If Cassandra Savage did anything to hurt Smokes, he would throw her in the human-sized blender along with Wilson and-

“I wouldn’t know, given that I’m not sleeping with him.” She crossed her arms in defiance, looking Cassandra up and down. Dick had no clue how she did it: Smokes was 5-foot-4 at best and Cassandra Savage was considerably taller than her, yet she was looking down on her with disdain. “Though maybe you could ask him for a demonstration. Unless you’re not his type, of course, which seems highly probable.”

“Shots fired,” Barbara commented, laughing, and Dick’s entire body swelled with pride. His girl was goddamn good at this.

The comment wiped the smirk off Cassandra’s face in an instant. “Watch what you say, cunt.” She spat at her. “I’d be careful if I were you. You might have Deathstroke wrapped around your finger, but I don’t trust you. And neither does Shiva. I’d watch your back if I were you.”

Everybody tensed at the threat, Tim and Jason glancing at Dick cautiously to make sure he hadn’t lost his shit yet. Internally, Dick had definitely lost his shit. But Smokes had proved time and time again that she could take care of herself, and he needed to trust her.

That, and the fact that there were only 3 days left in this mission had noticeably decreased his anger.

Wilson finally returned, bidding goodbye to Lady Shiva and Cassandra Savage, and led Smokes inside the building and up an elevator. Jason took the opportunity to give his mug back to Dick, patting him on the back and saying “Good job, Dick, keeping your cool and not losing your shit”; he glared at him in response, going red when even Bruce chuckled. Wilson led her down a hallway and into a room, which he instantly recognized to be his office. Smokes’ gaze immediately fell onto the computer sitting on the desk.

“Bingo. That’s it. That’s where you need to plug your USB key, Maverick.” Barbara confirmed, voice very serious. Everybody straightened, and Wonderwoman was whispering something into Martian Manhunter’s ear.

“Come on, Smokes,” Dick whispered. “You’re almost there, sweetheart. Almost there.”

Smokes turned to admire the view, taking a step towards the window and admiring the scenery. It was, Dick had to admit, absolutely breathtaking. If only it weren’t the home to so many villains.

“This could all be yours.” Wilson’s voice spoke into Smokes’ ear, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out where he was standing. Jason lunged for Dick’s mug, removing it from his hands and scrambling away from him, while Tim grunted “Thank God we didn’t buy a new chair”.

But Dick barely registered their actions and words, eyes stuck onto the screen. He was practically burning a hole in it, actually, doing his best to calm his pounding heart and sizzling anger.

“If you wanted it, this could all be yours. I’ll give it to you. Say the word, and it’s yours.” Wilson moved, his voice growing closer, and Dick abruptly jumped to his feet. Wilson had his hands on her. Wilson had his hands on her, and he was propositioning her, and it was just the two of them in an office on an island thousands of miles away, and if he decided to fuck her on his desk there was nothing he could do to stop him-

“Maverick. Maverick. Calm down.” Barbara was attempting to help, but Smokes wasn’t moving anymore. Dick was going to go there. He’d had enough of this mission, of these secrets, of watching Smokes face all these hardships. He was done. He was going to go over there and murder Wilson and whisk Smokes away to safety.

Dick reached for the button in his pocket, ready to change into his suit, when Smokes finally snapped. He didn’t miss the way Wilson’s hands had been reaching for her groin, and if it weren’t for the way Smokes had sent the old man flying backward and stepped as far away as possible from him, he would have gone there to cut them off himself.

He was going to cut his hands off. His hands, his balls, his penis, he was going to murder him-

“Mr. Wilson,” She spoke slowly, her voice trembling with fear. Dick dropped back into his chair in despair, his own eyes reflecting her terror. “Like I’ve already told you, I’m not interested in you like that.”

Wilson blinked as if this was the first time anybody had dared say no to him. “ I understand your reluctance, after everything that happened in Oxford- ”

“This has nothing to do with what happened in Oxford.” Smokes spat so hard her teeth chattered.

What in the fucking world had happened in Oxford? And why the hell had Wilson found out before him? Dick wanted to know, more than he’d ever wanted to know anything, and all the pain he’d buried in these past few weeks resurfaced agonizingly. Her lack of trust in him killed him. What could he do to make her trust him? To show him he cared.

He loved her. More than he’d ever loved anyone. Did she not see that? Was that not enough? 

“Then why are you here?” Wilson questioned angrily. “You’re not here for revenge, and you’re not here for me, so what do you want?”

“Fuck.” Barbara cursed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Everybody be ready, because if her cover blows up I want all units over there immediately. I’ll call Black Lightning and the Outsiders too.”

Dick’s grip around the button in his pocket tightened. He was still holding it, ready to leap out of the Nest’s window and down a boom tube as swiftly as possible. He would swing his way to Raquel and force her to open a goddamn boom tube, Justice League be damned.

By a stroke of luck, Wilson received a phone call before Smokes could answer, leaving the office to attend to the matter. But, most importantly, leaving Smokes all alone with the big computer.

“This is your chance, Maverick. The computer is all yours.” Barbara instructed, and Smokes wasted no time scrambling to the computer and plugging the USB key in.

The device instantly started overriding the system, hacking into it with no problem and starting a copy of the whole hard drive. Hundreds of new windows started appearing on Tim’s screen, and his brother was struggling to keep track of everything, eyes scanning all of the new information faster than he’d ever seen him do it.

“Bingo. Congratulations, Maverick, you’re almost out of there.” Dick threw his head back, closing his eyes and sighing in relief. Tim was still typing away, cursing and gasping as new information came, and Jason discreetly handed him back his mug.

This mission was almost over. Soon, Smokes would be home and they’d eat cake to celebrate and all would be good.

“Shit.” Barbara’s curse interrupted his reverie, and Dick’s eyes shot open.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” Dick and Smokes spoke in unison.

“There’s nothing about Nakamura and the MRE here. This… is good, but not what we were looking for. This probably isn’t Wilson’s main office, he must have another one with the rest of the documents.”

Dick blinked, then his gaze hardened. He turned to face Bruce and his brothers. “No, absolutely not. She’s done. We’re getting her out of there.”

Bruce looked torn. “I… I’d be tempted to agree, but… this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We’ll never manage to infiltrate Santa Prisca like this again. If Maverick can get her hands on the rest of the documents-”

“No, no, no. A thousand times no. I refuse.” Dick shook his head vehemently, voice rising. “She’s done. The mission is over. She’s done enough. You already have so much, don’t be fucking greedy, and let’s get her out of there.”

“Dick, don’t be ridiculous, Bruce has a point.” Artemis chimed in, crossing her arms. “Maverick is this close to getting all we need to put Wilson behind bars forever.”

“Oh, oh, oh, no, you don’t get to say anything on the matter!” Dick thundered, pointing his finger at the camera. “You’re the one who refuses to let her in on the secret and organized a covert vote to get your way. You have no say in this. None. Zero!”

“We did technically agree to seven days, and she’s only on day four.” Tim attempted, cowering under Dick’s merciless glare.

“People! Please!” Barbara finally interrupted. “Let’s just… Let’s let Maverick decide, ok?”

“Let me decide what?” Smokes’ voice echoed throughout the room, so tiny, and defeated, and tired. Smokes sounded utterly exhausted.

Dick’s heart shattered at the sound.

“They’re arguing about… Ok, here’s the deal, Maverick.” Barbara started. “This is great. You’ve been doing so well, and what you got us is great. If you want, we can send a team to retrieve you right now and it’ll all be over.”

“I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ here.” Smokes teased, and Dick didn’t know whether to laugh or weep at the sound.

Barbara sighed. “Well, we’re missing the MRE documents. Some people are arguing we should keep you there a little longer, while others want to bring you home now.”

“I’m going to guess Dick wants to bring me home.”

“He does. And he’s not wrong. You’ve done a lot already. But, ultimately, the decision is yours. We’ll do whatever you want.”

There was a long silence, everybody holding their breath as they waited for Smokes’ response.

But Dick already knew what it was going to be. He knew that stubborn, reckless woman like the back of his hand.

“I’ll stay.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Thus the mission continued. Dick couldn’t even be mad, not when Smokes had decided to stay herself. She was her own, independent person, and he needed to respect her decisions.

Even if he flinched every time Wilson made a pass at her, or every time Cassandra Savage shot her a dirty look.

Wilson spent their days showing her around the island, taking her to the Ninjas’s training sessions and various meetings. Smokes, to her credit, became better at hiding her disgust at the violence, flinching so imperceptibly Dick would have missed it if he didn’t know her so well.

On the fifth day, Smokes managed to find out where Wilson’s real office - which presumably contained the documents they were looking for - was situated: according to a conversation she’d overheard between some Ninjas, there was an underground corridor where the most important meetings took place - and where Wilson had his own office.

She had two days to find this office, break into it, find the documents they needed, and get out of there. And despite his fears, Dick fully believed in her. If anybody was capable of pulling it off, it was Smokes.

On the sixth day, the perfect opportunity finally presented itself. Wilson led Smokes down to the underground corridor, wanting her to sit in on an important meeting with their Markovian units. Halfway through the meeting, Smokes managed to excuse herself, claiming she needed to use the bathroom, and Wilson instantly took it upon himself to show her the way.

They walked along the hallway, Smokes discreetly glancing at the doors adorning it. Her gaze briefly landed on one with a plaque that read “Deathstroke, do not enter”, but she looked away before it became too suspicious.

“Guess we should have known his real office would have some sort of warning on it,” Barbara commented in between bites - the woman was always eating something - and Smokes struggled to keep her snort in.

Smokes and Barbara got along… surprisingly well, despite their rocky beginnings. They teased each other constantly, sometimes staying on the line to continue speaking well after Wilson had dropped her back home, and Dick wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about this new dynamic.

Wilson stopped in front of the bathroom door. “If you know the way back, I hope you won’t mind if I return to the meeting.”

Smokes nodded a little too eagerly, and Wilson raised a brow in suspicion. Nonetheless, he left as soon as she pushed the door to the bathroom open.

Dick started to sweat. This was it—the final stretch.

“Ok, Maverick, this is the last inning,” Barbara instructed - the two women were surprisingly fond of baseball metaphors. “Let’s wait a few minutes before heading for his office, ok? If you bump into anyone, keep your head low and act natural.”

“What if the door’s locked?”

“Your USB key should have a lock jammer. Don’t worry, I’ll explain how to use it when we get to it.”

Smokes nodded in response, pacing back and forth in the bathroom while she waited for Barbara’s signal. Both Tim and Jason straightened, and Dick realized they were both holding onto their buttons: they were expecting this mission to be over soon too, then.

A few minutes passed before Smokes finally left the bathroom, walking swiftly yet casually to Wilson’s real office. She stopped in front of the door, checking the surface for booby traps.

“My sensors aren’t picking up anything suspicious,” Barbara confirmed. “Try opening the door? Who knows, it might be open.”

“I doubt it,” Smokes quipped, but tried the doorknob nonetheless. To everyone’s shock, the door opened slowly, without making a sound.

Something uncomfortable stirred in Dick’s gut. “Something’s wrong.” Wilson would never just leave his office door open like that; it had to be a trap in place.

But nobody paid him any attention, everyone’s focus on Smokes slipping into the office and closing the door behind her. This office was starker compared to the upstairs one, and Smokes fumbled on the walls a little to find a switch.

There were fewer bookshelves and binders, and the desk was a simple, metal, cheap one. But, a laptop sat on the desk, shining and waiting for her.

“Go for it, Maverick. We’re almost there.” Barbara encouraged while Smokes scrambled behind the desk, not bothering to sit down as she removed the USB key from her sleeve.

But Dick couldn’t shake the feeling that something was awfully, awfully wrong. The sooner Smokes got out of there, the better.

“There we go.” Smokes whispered when she plugged the USB key into the laptop. Hundreds of different windows and documents immediately popped up on Tim’s screen, and once again the young man rushed to sort through them.

“Holy shit.” “Holy shit.” Barbara and Tim cursed at the exact same time.

“What is it? What is it?” Dick stood from his seat, dashing to Tim’s computer.

His brother pointed to a document, filled with pictures and notes. “Holy fucking shit. Look at this. This is what they’re doing with the money.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, they’re making meta-animals.”

“What? That’s impossible!” Dick protested, but the longer he looked at the document, the more he realized they were right.

The documents summarized years and years of tests. The League of Shadows used the money to buy exotic animals from millionaires and billionaires all around the world, promising them power if they agreed to invest in the project. The first experiments had been complete fails, but the latest ones had considerably improved. The first one they’d let out in the wild had been the wolf Dick had fought back in the labyrinth: he’d always figured he’d been enchanted, but this… this was another story.

“They want to raise an army of wild, violent meta-animals,” Barbara stated with a shudder. 

Fuck. They needed to stop them. And they needed to get Smokes out of there, immediately, before anybody found her and-

“Well, well, well.” A depressingly familiar feminine voice suddenly boomed through the microphone, and Dick’s blood went cold when he raised his head to look at Smokes’ camera footage. “Now what do we have here?”

Smokes had gone perfectly still, staring at the two women in front of her. Cassandra Savage was walking into the room with slow, tantalizing steps, while Lady Shiva was leaning on the door’s side jamb, playing with a knife in her hand and side-eyeing her.

Dick wasn’t sure he was breathing.

“We leave the door to Wilson’s office open for just ten minutes, and look what rat the tide brings in.” Lady Shiva drawled with a smirk, Cassandra Savage humming in response.

No. No, no, no, no. This couldn't be happening, nobody was supposed to find out, nobody was supposed to-

“Told you his new pet was a rat. Well, not for long.”

Cassandra Savage lunged for Smokes.

The screen stuttered, then went black. All of Smokes’ devices turned off, one by one, until there was none left.

Silence filled the room.

They’d lost Smokes.

Chapter Text

Smokes’ head was pounding.

Hard.

She groaned, blurry vision slowly coming into focus, and tried to move her body. Her neck hurt like a bitch, and her head was throbbing mercilessly, but her limbs weren’t tied up.

She slowly sat up - and realized that she was, in fact, sitting - twisting her neck to try and appease the soreness, and tried to regain her bearings. She was sitting on a small, metal chair in the middle of an empty, rusty room. The walls of the room were padded with old cushions that were rotting away, and there were no windows. Only the metal door in the far left corner broke the padded room’s continuity.

Where was she? Smokes’ head was still pulsing, and she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. She inhaled slowly, trying to conjure the scattered, clouded memories. She was in Wilson’s office, plugging in the USB key into his laptop and-

Shit.

Smokes shot to her feet with a start, and instantly regretted when the dizziness hit her. She had to sit down cautiously, wincing and massaging her temples. It had all been a setup: Cassandra Savage and Lady Shiva had been waiting for her all along. She vividly remembered the way her heart had dropped in her chest when Cassandra had spoken up, thrashing wildly when the woman had lunged for.

Savage had grabbed the hem of her cardigan, ripping all of the buttons, her earrings, the zipper of her jeans - and then she’d banged her head onto the desk, knocking her out immediately. Well, that explained the headache. Smokes looked down at her cardigan and cursed: the woman had ripped off all the buttons, and this was one of her favorite cardigans.

Smokes swallowed, trying to make sense of the situation. “Barbara? Dick? Guys? Is anybody there?” She attempted futilely, for she knew Cassandra Savage and Lady Shiva would never make such an oversight. As expected, her calls were met with silence.

She was all alone.

Oh god, she was completely alone.

The thought made her panic. She was stranded alone, on an island in the middle of the Caribbean, miles away from the people she loved and her family. She wouldn’t get to see her parents, her brother, her friends, Dick… Dick. Dick must have been furious with her - he’d asked her to stay, and told her exactly how this would go, but she’d been too stubborn to believe him. He was probably livid with her, arguing with Jason, tearing the Nest upside down because his worst fears had come true. Well, no, actually. She didn’t believe he was angry with her, he was most likely just worried and terrified and would baby her when she got back before scolding her.

When she got back? More like, if she ever got back.

No, no. She needed to be positive. Sure, she no longer had a GPS on her, but Barbara and Dick knew she was in Santa Prisca. She might not know where she was - or what time of the day it was, for the matter, because the lack of windows cut her off from the real world - but surely they could figure it out. Right? Barbara had mentioned backup, and the Justice League had been closely following the mission. Hopefully, they’d send Superman or Wonder Woman to come save her and then this would all be over.

Was she even important enough to save? Was she worthy of having some of the world’s greatest superheroes come to save her? She’d gotten them the documents they wanted already, maybe they’d just leave her there to rot.

No. Dick would never allow that. Dick would tear the world apart to come save her. He would never abandon her.

But that didn’t mean she would just sit down and wait for him to save her. She was going to try something on her own first. She wouldn’t let fear consume her. Not yet.

Smokes stood up, slower this time, and luckily her headache was more bearable. She started walking around the room, tapping the cushions on the walls in hopes of finding… something. A window, a hidden weapon, anything.

She spent what must have been an hour caressing all of the cushions in the room, with no success. The room was entirely foolproof. She tried the door next, attempting - out of sheer despair - the doorknob, and trying to rip the hinges off the wall.

She huffed, walking back to the center of the room, hands on her hips as she surveyed the space. She was stuck.

How long had she even been down here? She had no clue how long she’d been out, and the lack of windows was really starting to irritate her.

She was in the middle of her floor inspection, hoping that there was some sort of sewer or manhole hidden under the wobbly tiles when the lock turned in the door. She stiffened and jumped to her feet, shuffling awkwardly. Who was it? Had they come to finish her off? To interrogate her?

Smokes was smart, but she wasn’t strong enough to endure physical torture. They’d get what they wanted in seconds if they did.

Her body froze with fear when Wilson’s imposing figure stepped into the room, closing the heavy door behind him with a loud clang. His face was stoic, not a single emotion flittering over his features. His hard gaze met hers, causing her to shiver and cower despite her best efforts to compose herself.

What was he going to do? Was he here to kill her? Would he-

“Sit.”

The command was stern and hard. He’d never used this tone - Deathstroke’s authoritative, intimidating tone - with her. Every muscle in her body moved instinctively, and she sat down immediately. She willed her body to calm down, to not give her away by trembling when he approached, despite the way her heart dropped in her chest.

Wilson slowly walked towards her, blue eyes gleaming with… sadness, she realized. He was sad. The pervert had actually believed he had a chance, and he was saddened by her betrayal.

Smokes didn’t know whether she should be screaming, crying, throwing up, or all three. Probably all three.

He stopped right in front of her, bringing his hand to her chin and ignoring the way her whole body flinched at his touch. He raised her head, forcing her eyes to meet his, and Smokes wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear him over the blood rushing to her ears and her heart frantically pounding against her ribcage.

“Why?”

She blinked at the hushed word. “Why… why what?”

“Why did you betray me?” He removed his hand from her chin, and this time she didn’t hide her sigh of relief. “You were working for Grayson this whole time.”

“I was.” Her mouth instantly went dry at the mention of Dick’s name, and it was a miracle she managed to get the words out at all.

“You were wired from head to toe. GPS, microphone, camera, earpiece… some of the most modern tech I’ve ever seen. He gave that to you?”

“Yes.” She acquiesced, not knowing what else to say. There was no point in denying her involvement, he already knew.

“And he asked you to hack into my computer.”

“Yes.”

Wilson shook his head, sighing, and started pacing behind her. Her back stiffened - she didn’t like having him where she couldn’t see him. He could plunge a knife in her back at any moment, or beat her to death. She’d seen him do it before. He would do it again.

She swallowed thickly, hoping he couldn’t sense her utter fear. She was stuck in a room in the middle of nowhere with one of the world’s most prominent criminals who either wanted to fuck her or kill her and-

“Relax.” He whispered in her ear, placing his hands on her shoulders in what he probably meant to be a reassuring manner. Smokes’ entire body went rigid. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ah, well, if you say it, you old pervert, then it’s all good! I’m not shitting my pants anymore, and I definitely believe you. Smokes swallowed again, not daring to speak or make any movements. Anything could set him off, and she needed to survive this encounter. Needed to stay alive long enough for Dick to find her.

Wilson straightened, but his hands never left her shoulders. “Why?” He demanded again, voice booming from her back where she couldn’t see him. “Why did you agree to Grayson’s idea? Why did you send him my files?”

“You’re a criminal.” She responded weakly - and yes, she was perfectly aware it was a flimsy excuse, but she wasn’t sure her brain was working anymore. Not with his hands on her like that, just like Dr. Wilkins had-

No. No. Not the time. Focus, Smokes, focus.

Wilson huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Ah. I see.” He was quiet for a few beats, mindlessly rubbing her shoulders with his thumb. The gesture made her want to puke, and the anxious knot in her stomach only tightened. “I never stood a chance, did I?”

“No.” She admitted quietly. Maybe she should have just feigned being in love with him and played the part of the enamored little girl, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stomach it. Not when his touch repulsed him so much.

“I feared as much.” He finally removed his hands from her body, and she had to stop herself from lunging forward, away from him and the goddamn chair. “I would have made you my queen, you know? I would have given you all of my empire, my soul - everything. Everything would have been yours.”

His declaration was met with silence. She didn’t care, didn’t give a rat’s flying ass what he would have or wouldn’t have given her. She didn’t want any of his bloody empire, and least of all to be his queen. The idea alone made her want to barf.

Wilson sighed, shuffling on his feet behind her. “Well, I suppose we have to settle the matter then.”

“What matter?” She asked, voice dripping with poorly hidden fear.

“The matter of what I’m going to do with you.” Her heart physically stopped at that.

Her hands clenched atop her thighs, mind swirling with every worst-case scenario, trying to find a way out of this mess. This man was a dangerous criminal, and to make matters worse, he was an angry dangerous criminal. She needed to tread carefully. “What are the options?”

“Well,” He started, circling back to stand in front of her, crossing his arms. “Cassandra wants to get the information out of you with her… creative methods and kill you. Shiva wants to keep you as a bargaining chip with the league, though she is not opposed to Cassandra buttering you up a little.”

Smokes’ entire frame shuddered. Was torture always an option? “What about you?”

Wilson’s heated gaze stared right at her, burning a hole into her skull. The silence stretched infinitely, and Smokes couldn’t help the terror clouding her every thought and sense. This was it. He was going to kill her. This was the end.

She would never get to hug Dick. She would never get to tell Dick about Oxford.

She’d die, and he’d blame himself forever.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Relief flooded her entire system despite the lingering fear. “Nor do I want to torture you or use you as a bargaining chip.” He exhaled, rubbing his stubble ponderously. “Here’s the deal, Taser. I’m getting old.”

She blinked in confusion at his words. “I… I guess?”

“I’m getting old, and I need a successor. I won’t be able to manage the League of Shadows by myself for much longer.”

“And you… you don’t have any other criminal that could, you know, take over?” 

“No. Both Shiva and Cassandra would like to take over, but… they’re good fighters and good leaders for small troops. But when it comes to big organizations, neither of them would know how to deal with the responsibility.”

“Ok… but what does this have to do with me?” She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this.

Wilson stared at her long and hard before opening his mouth to speak. “I need an heir.”

Smokes blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? He was. Oh heavens, he was. The realization hit her then, and she couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up her chest. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth - but her giggles wouldn’t stop.

This man was fucking delusional. There were no other words for it.

Tears of hilarity sprung into her eyes, and she did her best to conceal her laughs. “Just- just so we’re clear,” She managed to speak in between giggles. “You brought me here to.. to make a baby with you? You want me to carry your child?”

To his credit, Wilson’s emotionless facade did not falter, nor did he hit her when she started laughing. The man simply nodded. “Yes. That was my intention.”

Smokes laughed again. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“I am very, very serious.”

“Why would you even pick me out of all the ruthless criminals you could procreate with?” She exclaimed, still trying to wrap her head around this insane proposal. “Surely Lady Shiva or Cassandra Savage would be better candidates for this.”

“I don’t want to deal with the power struggle of having a child with a colleague. You’re very smart and cunning, not to mention always resourceful and brazen. You’re the only one who’s ever tried to infiltrate the League of Shadows so openly.”

“Yeah, and look at how that went.” She mumbled, lowering her eyes. The determined look in his eyes was starting to scare her: this man really, really wanted her to have his baby.

He crouched down to her level, taking her hands in his and ignoring the way her body jolted at his touch yet again. “It doesn’t have to end badly. Not yet. If you agree to this, you will be taken care of for the rest of your life.”

Smokes didn’t know where to look, how to breathe, how to get rid of him. She needed to buy Dick enough time to come save her, but if Wilson was hellbent on having a baby with her, this was going to be harder than she’d originally thought.

“So what? You tell Lady Shiva and Cassandra Savage I’m to carry your baby and they’ll just… let me live?”

“No.” He shook his head promptly. “I’ll tell them you’re already pregnant, and not to be harmed.”

Smokes blinked in astonishment. This man was insane. “I’m very obviously not pregnant.”

“Not yet.” He gave her a mischievous smile. “You’re young, it wouldn’t take too long to impregnate you.”

The sentence alone threatened to make her barf then and there, and her every limb tensed with horror. This man was insane. Completely, utterly insane. And he wanted her. Wanted to have a baby with her- oh god, she was going to throw up.

“No.” She quickly removed her hands from his, pushing her chair backward and away from him. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”

Wilson’s face fell with disappointment, eyes darkening in anger, and he stood up slowly. He was towering over her even with the distance she’d put between them, and she was certain her eyes reflected her terror. Who was to say he wouldn’t just take what he wanted?

She couldn’t do it. Not again. 

“I won’t touch you or do anything against your will. But think about this wisely, Taser. It’s either this or being tortured and eventually killed by Shiva and Savage. The choice is yours.” Wilson spoke coldly, eyeing her from head to toe. His words nonetheless radiated confidence, as if he were certain she would say yes. In his eyes, she probably didn’t have a choice. Either have his baby, or die.

But, little did he know, she’d rather die a painful death at Cassandra Savage’s hands than carry his baby and be his prisoner forever.

Wilson walked back to the door and knocked on it. Someone from the outside opened it instantly, and he placed his hand on its surface to push it. He stopped at the last second, tilting his head slightly to look at her. “I will give you a few hours to decide. Choose wisely.”

And with that, he was gone.

Smokes wasn’t sure if she was breathing or not, but if there was one thing she knew, it was that she was very, very close to breaking down in tears.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Half an hour later (maybe? She was losing track of time, she couldn’t tell how much time or days had passed), Smokes was on the verge of losing her mind. She’d inspected every single tile on the floor, to no avail. There were no hidden passages, no secret doors with a bright, shining sign that read “ESCAPE ROUTE HERE!”. Just a myriad of cobwebs and bugs that made her want to either throw up or cry, sometimes both at the same time.

She sighed, slumping onto the chair, willing her glossy eyes not to betray her despair. She was certain there were hidden cameras somewhere in the room, and if Wilson saw her crying, he might think she’d finally resorted to agreeing to his proposal.

But she couldn’t give up just yet. She needed to try harder, even if it felt like Dick had forgotten her with every second passing by.

She was in the middle of inspecting the cushions on the padded walls for the fifth time when she heard shuffling steps from the other side of the door. Her entire body froze in fear, eyes riveted on the door as she waited. The person started banging on the door, making her jump backward and hit her back on the wall. Fuck. Whoever was out there was angry and probably wanted to hurt her.

They started fumbling with the lock, the device making awful whirring, metallic noises, as they continued trying to pry the door open. She needed to do something, and she needed to do something fast.

Instincts finally kicked in, and she ran to the chair, grabbing its legs and hoisting it in the air, on top of her head. Maybe, she could just hurl the chair at whoever it was and buy herself enough time to make a run for it.

This was the worst, most half-baked plan she’d ever come up with, but it was all she had right now, so she would have to make do with it.

Ten excruciatingly slow seconds passed with more metallic jangles echoing throughout the room before the person on the other side finally managed to kick the door open.

Smokes breathed in slowly, waiting for the figure to appear. She couldn’t hesitate. She would have a split-second to land her throw, and she needed to land it. The footsteps shuffled closer. She started counting in her head, arms flexing with the effort of holding up the chair. 3, 2, 1…

The mysterious figure finally entered the room, and Smokes moved her arms to hurl her chair at it. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, and she managed to hold onto the chair at the last second. She blinked in confusion, mouth so dry she couldn’t get a single word out.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, little bird.” Nightwing sighed in relief, still standing close to the door. Smokes hadn’t seen the vigilante since the labyrinth fiasco back in January, and was relieved to find he hadn’t changed one bit. His dark hair was messier than usual, and he looked out of breath - almost as if he’d run all the way here and taken down every door in his path. “What are you- why are you holding that chair like that?”

“I…” She blinked yet again, lowering the chair back onto the floor. He was rescuing her, and this was the first thing he asked her? “I was going to throw it at you. I thought you were one of the bad guys.”

“You thought you were going to knock out a criminal with a flimsy, metal chair?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a whole lot of options!” She huffed, flustered, and her cheeks started heating up. “What are you even doing here?”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean what am I doing here? I’m here to rescue you!”

“You are?”

“Of course I am!” Nightwing sputtered indignantly, walking into the room. “Do you honestly think I just take leisure walks to Santa Prisca every day? For fun?”

“I…” Smokes had no clue what to say. She wasn’t sure her brain had registered the relief of being rescued just yet. “I thought the Justice League was coming. Superman, Wonder Woman, or someone.”

He snorted. “Are you saying you’re not satisfied with me saving you?”

“That is not what I said!” Her cheeks crimsoned further, and she clenched her fists in frustration.

“If you want, I can lock you back in here and call them to save you instead.” He teased, and her nostrils flared in anger.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry, little bird. To answer your question, the Justice League is here. Wonder Woman and Superman are currently dealing with the likes of Lady Shiva and Cassandra Savage. But Dick specifically called me to come get you, so here I am.”

The mention of Dick’s name was enough to startle her out of her shocked stupor, bringing her back to reality. Dick hadn’t forgotten about her. He’d sent Nightwing to get her. He was waiting for her.

A gigantic wave of relief finally flooded her system, crashing into her violently and causing her eyes to tear up. Her bottom lip started trembling, and she knew she was seconds away from bursting into tears. She was safe. She was going to be fine.

Nightwing’s eyes widened in what she assumed to be concern under his mask. “Little bird? Are you ok? Are you hurt? Did someone-”

His sentence was promptly interrupted by Smokes rushing to him and throwing her arms around him, burying her head into his chest to conceal her tears. He hmphed from the impact of her, arms awkwardly hovering in the air, unsure of how to react. But when the first sob raked her body, he didn’t hesitate for a split-second: he wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her tight, and started stroking her hair lovingly.

“Hey, hey, hey, little bird, you’re ok. You’re fine. I’m here.” He cooed in her ear, placing a tender kiss on her head and continuing to caress her hair. “I’m here, it’s going to be alright, ok?”

Smokes was still crying, and she only managed a weak, embarrassing sniffle into his chest. She was probably smudging snot all over his suit, and she knew she would be mortified by this whole thing later.

But she was so, so tired. And scared. And relieved. And exhausted.

She tightened her hold against his chest, and Nightwing reciprocated the gesture, nuzzling his head into her hair.

“It’s ok, little bird, I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, ok? I’m going to get you out of here, and I’m going to take you home to Dick, alright?” He whispered softly, and the mention of Dick’s name stirred something deep in her stomach.

“He’s waiting for me?” She managed to ask in between tears, voice wobbly and unsure. God, this was probably the most embarrassing she’d ever done, sobbing into the chest of one of Gotham’s most popular vigilantes and asking him to reassure her.

She felt him smile against her. “Of course he is.”

“Is he mad?”

“Why would he be mad?”

“Because I- I didn’t listen to him, and I ended up here and…” She was unable to finish her sentence as she started sobbing again, desperately trying to bury herself deeper into his chest, despite it being physically impossible. Maybe the ground could swallow her, and she would never have to remember this embarrassing moment again.

“Oh, little bird,” Nightwing murmured gently, and something in her chest broke at the tone of his voice. He sounded so upset that she could ever think something like that; he sounded like he cared. “Dick could never be mad at you. He’s worried sick. He’s going to be relieved and happy to have you back.”

Smokes feebly nodded against him, tears still streaking down her cheeks. She hadn’t cried like this in such a long time, and she’d tried so hard to keep it in, but the idea of Dick waiting for her at home had been too much. God, she was pathetic.

Nightwing continued caressing her hair, holding onto her as if his life depended on it, and she was suddenly very grateful for his presence. He planted kisses in her hair from time to time, cooing soft “It’s ok, little bird, it’s ok”s and “You’re safe now, you’re safe with me”s in her ear while she continued soaking his suit with her tears.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Nightwing finally pulled back, gently laying his hands on both sides of her tear-streaked face and soothingly wiping the tears away with his thumb. Her breath caught in her throat, and despite being unable to see his eyes under the black and white domino mask, she knew he was staring at her with all the kindness and love in the world.

He called her name. Her real name. “It’s going to be alright. We’re going to get out of here, and you’ll be home in no time. Ok?”

She nodded, sniffling one last time. His hands didn’t leave her face, thumbs still wiping away the humid splotches on her cheeks. She didn’t want him to remove them. They were so warm and soft, and they felt so good. Maybe it was his gloves. Or her very emotional state.

Nightwing bit his lip, but his hands stayed put. “Did anybody… Shit, I’m sorry that I need to ask but… did anybody lay a hand on you? Did they hurt you?”

“No, nobody did anything.” She shook her head promptly. “Apart from Cassandra Savage knocking me out, nobody touched me.”

“Not even Wilson?” His thumbs stopped moving, and she could tell Wilson’s name alone caused him to tense. She leaned into his right hand, huffing a small sigh of contentment when he resumed his caresses.

“No, Wilson didn’t touch me. He entertained some… other, crazy thoughts, but he didn’t do anything.”

“What other crazy thoughts?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, masked eyes looking for hers.

“He just… said stuff about needing an heir, and wanting a baby and whatnot.” His entire body went rigid, hands freezing on her face; yet all it took was tilting her head into his hands again, and he was back to stroking her softly. God, his hands had no business feeling this good. “It’s ok, I told him to get lost, and he left.”

Nightwing broke into a small smile. “Good girl.”

Her stomach bottomed out in a familiar way, and she blinked in confusion. Just now, he’d sounded so much like Dick. The resemblance in their voices was uncanny. But… no, she was being insane. Dick was probably pacing up and down the Nest, driving Jason and Tim crazy, and would continue to do so until she got home safely.

Nightwing eventually removed his hands from her face, and Smokes almost whined at the loss of his touch. Almost being the keyword, because this was definitely the most embarrassing situation she’d ever found herself in, and sobbing onto a vigilante’s chest was not on her bingo card for the year.

“We need to go,” He spoke cautiously, poking his head outside the room to ensure the coast was clear. “The others are taking care of the criminals, but I need to get you somewhere safe.”

“Is the Justice League taking down the headquarters?”

“Yes. The files you got us were more than enough for thousands of arrest warrants. Especially Wilson’s.” His whole body shook with anger, his disdain for the man clear as day. Something else he and Dick had in common. “They’re looking for him as we speak. They’re hoping that if they get him first, the League will collapse and the rest won’t put up much of a fight.”

“Right.” She nodded, though it all sounded very foreign to her. Well, she was content to let the professionals deal with this mess anyways: she just wanted to go home and curl up in a blanket at the Nest and watch Tim’s stupid reality TV shows with Dick and make fun of him together the whole time.

“I’m going to lead the way then, alright? Follow my lead at all times. We’re going to take a route that hopefully will be empty, but if we encounter any criminals I need you to stay behind me and let me deal with it.”

“Ok. I can do that.” Smokes acquiesced instantly. She’d done enough fighting for a lifetime.

“Alright, then let’s go.” Nightwing took a total of one (1) step out of the room before Smokes grabbed onto his sleeves in a panic, realizing she’d forgotten something. He instantly whipped his head to her, brows furrowing in concern. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I just…” She lowered her eyes to where she was holding onto his suit, playing with the fabric in her hands. “Could you… could you not tell Dick about this?”

She raised her gaze in time to find Nightwing blinking in confusion. “Tell him about what?”

“About me… crying, and all.” She cringed at the utter confusion painted onto his features. “I just… I just don’t want him to worry. And I know he’s probably worried sick, and throwing a thousand fits at the Nest and driving Jason and Tim crazy and I don’t want to give him any other reasons to worry.”

She could feel his eyes raking over her face from under the black and white domino mask. “Smokes, I-”

“Please?” She begged - yes, she’d officially hit rock bottom, sobbing onto his chest and then begging him not to tell anyone, but she didn’t have the strength to care. “I know you guys tell each other everything, and I also know Dick was right about this whole mission. It was dangerous and stupid, and I should have listened to him. I’m never doing something like this again - I’m clearly not cut out for it. But I don’t want to give him any more reasons to worry. So… please? Can you please keep this one thing to yourself? Please?”

She gave him her best puppy eyes, but the despair in her tone and gaze was very real. Nightwing opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to give her a definitive answer. Or maybe he was struggling with something else. She couldn’t say for certain.

Finally, he sighed in defeat. “Ok. I won’t tell him anything, Smokes, you have my word.”

“Thank you.” She smiled brightly at him, though something was nagging her at the back of her mind. Something about this conversation was wrong, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what was bothering her.

Well, she didn’t have time to think about it anyway, not when Nightwing was already leaving the room, motioning for her to follow him closely.

She was so close yet so far from finally returning home.

Chapter Text

Nightwing moved seamlessly along the walls of the long, abandoned corridor where she’d been locked up, and Smokes couldn’t help but marvel at the elegance of his steps. It was like a dance, the way he stepped from side to side, like a stag, a deer, or one of those fancy animals she could never remember the name of.

Smokes, in comparison, felt like a sack of potatoes rolling behind him, stupidly following along for lack of a better option. Not that she minded all that much: after 6 days of being on high alert at all times, she was more than happy to let a strong, muscular man take the lead (yeah, they were definitely going to revoke her feminism membership card after this).

The corridor was eerily quiet and completely dark, for it also lacked windows, and there were no signs of any criminals. They must have been underground, though this was a part of the headquarters Wilson hadn’t shown her. The walls were littered with doors, which all suspiciously looked worse for wear: they were all titled at awkward angles, hinges popped out of their sockets and sometimes lying on the floor, showing clear signs of someone having banged on them repeatedly. 

Smokes was 99% certain Nightwing had been the one to tear the doors down like a mad caveman - given the way he’d bust hers open - and she wasn’t entirely sure why the image of the vigilante knocking doors down desperately looking for her warmed her as much as it did. It was irrational, really (yes, she wasn’t just losing that membership card, she was getting permanently suspended from the club).

Nightwing moved cautiously yet silently, and the silence was starting to irk her. She finally “dared a question after a few minutes. “So where are we exactly?”

“South-east building of the headquarters.” He replied swiftly, stopping at a corner and peeking his head to make sure they were alone. When he deemed the coast clear, he motioned for her to follow him. “They keep some criminals on the upper floors, but they have this underground corridor reserved for their most dangerous ones.”

“Ah. Should I be flattered I was considered this much of a threat?”

He broke into a lopsided smile. “Definitely.”

They continued down the hall, never encountering any danger. Smokes was half-terrified they’d run into Wilson, and she was desperately trying not to think about what would happen if they did. The man might have been in his sixties, but he was still as violent and ruthless as a freshman criminal. The fight wouldn’t be pretty.

“So… how did you find me?” She asked again, feeling the sudden need to fill the silence.

“One of Shiva’s ninjas told me.” Nightwing didn’t slow his step as he replied.

Smokes raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “They just… told you? Volunteered the information out of the kindness of their hearts?”

“Well… no.” He hesitated before adding: “I had to break some fingers.”

This man… broke somebody’s fingers to find her? Was he serious? Why did that sound… not all that bad? No! Smokes! Get ahold of yourself! This is ridiculous!

“Some?” She inquired, enjoying the way he became flustered.

“It only took six. And honestly, he could have avoided having broken fingers if he’d just answered the question the first time I asked.” He huffed, seemingly annoyed that it had come to that.

“Didn’t peg you for the violent type.”

“I don’t like using these methods. But Wilson disappeared halfway through the battle, and we were scared he was coming to get you to use you as leverage or something. Besides, my job was always to find you first and get you out. The others can handle the rest.”

Smokes opened her mouth to add something else when they finally reached an elevator. Nightwing punched its button, and the doors opened instantly. He motioned for her to step inside first, glancing left and right to make sure nobody would ambush them. Once they were both inside the elevator, he pushed the button for the ground floor, and the doors closed promptly.

Nightwing sighed, running a hand through his hair - and this gesture was weirdly familiar. Where had she seen this before?

He interrupted her train of thought when he spoke. “Alright, we’re unfortunately going to be into the thick of the battle. There’s a ship waiting for us: we just need to cross the field, and then you get on. Miss Martian and Superboy will be driving the aircraft, and they’ll take you back to Gotham.”

“Ok. Sounds simple enough.” This was, for all intents and purposes, a lie. It sounded terribly complicated. But Nightwing sounded sure of himself, so who was she to contradict him?

“It is. Just follow my lead and-”

BANG. Smokes screamed as a part of the elevator ceiling came crashing down, barely registering the way Nightwing instantly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, the metal piece falling mere inches from her head. The thought why do his arms feel so safe? left her brain as quickly as it invaded it, for Nightwing let go of her almost immediately, pushing her behind him and shielding her with his body. He reached for his escrima sticks, readying his fighting stance, and looked at the gaping hole in the ceiling with a scowl.

A black and white masked face peeked in the hole, and Smokes recognized the man instantly - Bane. “Well, hello there, Boy Wonder.”

He jumped inside the elevator, far too small and compact for the three of them, holding out his fist. “I’ve been dying to bump into you again.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I can’t return the sentiment.” Nightwing hissed, moving his leg backward to push Smokes further behind him. Her back hit the elevator wall with a small thud, and she hoped the villain couldn’t read the sheer panic on her face.

“You were always the funny one, weren’t you?” The creepy, full-teeth smile did nothing to reassure her.

“Oh, it’s a family trait.” Nightwing returned a teasing smile, and that was enough to set Bane off.

The tall, mountain-built man growled as he lunged for Nightwing, who quickly blocked the blow. It had been a bait, she realized, as she watched the two men fight in the cramped space. Despite the total absence of space, and the way the vigilante made clear efforts to keep her out of the fight, his movements were as graceful as ever. Carefully placed feet here, small shifts there, pricks with his escrima sticks - it was all a perfectly, calculated dance, and Smokes was so entranced by it she nearly forgot to be scared.

Bane threw a fist forward, aimed for Nightwing’s head, which the latter swiftly avoided - however, this resulted in his blow landing into the elevator wall, mere inches from her head.

Smokes swallowed her scream as she watched the villain struggling to remove his hand with wide eyes. He was snarling and cursing, pulling onto his hand in vain. He was stuck.

“Close your eyes, little bird. This isn’t going to be pretty.” Nightwing commanded sternly yet softly, readying his escrima sticks.

Smokes did as she was told.

All she heard was the crackling of electricity, the air whooshing as Nightwing - presumably - punched Bane, and the latter’s screams of pain.

Then silence.

“You can open your eyes now, little bird,” Nightwing whispered beside her, far closer than she’d thought he was.

When she finally dared to open an eye, she found that Bane was passed out on the floor, with no sign of blood on his face or clothes.

“I did my best to make it as fast and painless as possible.” He smiled, rubbing his neck sheepishly. The fact that he’d noticed how squeamish she was and that he’d made an effort to make it less traumatizing for her was… mind-boggling, to be honest. He was a vigilante fighting for their lives, her fears should have been the least of his worries.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you’re on that ship, little bird.” He sighed, looking up at the hole in the ceiling with his hands on his hips. “Unfortunately, our friend Bane shut down the elevator system, so we’re going to have to take an alternative route.”

“The stairs?” Nightwing gave her a teasing smirk that did nothing to reassure her. “Please tell me it’s the stairs.”

“I told you not to thank me until you were on that ship, little bird.”

“Please, please, please tell me we’re taking the stairs.”

But Nightwing shook his head, pointing at the grapple gun in his utility belt with one hand and the gigantic hole in the ceiling with the other. “We’re going to take a shortcut.”

Smokes groaned. “God, please let this be a joke.”

“Nope, it isn’t.” He exclaimed a little too cheerfully.

He was right, of course. Just a few seconds later, he had one hand wrapped around her waist and the other angling the grapple gun upwards. He looked down at her, giving her an amused yet reassuring smile. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she mumbled half-heartedly, but it was enough to spur him into action.

Originally, she’d opted to have her arms hover in the air awkwardly, despite every muscle in her body begging to hug him. But as soon as he activated the grapple gun and they started flying upwards, she threw her rationale out the window and promptly wrapped her arms around his neck, causing him to chuckle.

His arm around her waist tightened possessively. 

Her eyes were closed the entire time, trying to shut out the sound of the air whooshing in her ears as best as she could. They suddenly came to a halt, but she could tell from the way Nigthwing’s muscles were flexing around her that they were still dangling in the air.

“Just a little more, little bird.” He whispered in her ear, messing around with the grapple gun in the other hand.

She was too scared to open her eyes and take a peek, but she was half-certain Nightwing had somehow suspended them in the air and was using his other hand to pry the elevator doors open.

She startled when they started swinging back and forth, feeling Nightwing’s ragged breaths against her ear as he forced the doors open with nothing but sheer force. Holy flying fuck this man is strong.

It took a few tries and a few totally non-sexy grunts (really, they weren’t; it was just her hormones acting up or something) for the vigilante to get the doors to open.

“Ah!” He exclaimed victoriously, swinging them back and forth until they eventually landed on solid ground.

Nightwing slowly removed his arm from her waist. “You can open your eyes now, scaredy-cat. We’re no longer dangling in an elevator shaft.”

It was only then that Smokes carefully opened her eyes, wiggling her toes in her shoes to make sure that she was, in fact, standing on the ground. And it was then that she realized her arms were still around Nightwing’s neck; she instantly jolted away from him, hoping her burning cheeks didn’t betray her. But a shit-eating grin coated the vigilante’s features.

“Right.” She coughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension. “Ship?”

The word instantly sobered him up. “Yes. Ship. We should hurry up.”

They rushed to the two glass doors of the building, and Smokes took the time to observe her surroundings. She bristled at the sight of multiple ninjas passed out and tied up, one of them with oddly bent fingers. Ah. So this was where all the criminals had gone. And Nightwing had done this all just to save her.

Nightwing motioned for her to stand by his side as he inspected the ongoing fight outside. Crashes, gunshots, punches, and screams resonated in the air, smoke, and debris covering most of the battlefield. From where she was standing, she could barely see Wonder Woman fighting somebody in the air, punching them back with brute force.

Nightwing brought a hand to his ear, activating an earpiece she only realized now that he had. “Nightwing here. I have her. Where are you guys?”

She couldn’t hear the response, but the vigilante shifted his entire body to look in the opposite direction, and she followed his movements. She instantly spotted the bright pink and red ship - and not just any ship, a bio-ship. She’d studied them in one of her electives on Mars, but she’d never seen one in real life.

“Is that a bio-ship?” She whispered to the vigilante, entranced. God, if she’d had this opportunity just a few years ago, nothing would have stopped her from writing a paper on this vehicle. 

Nightwing raised his eyebrows but smiled fondly at her. “I’m surprised you know what a bio-ship is but had never heard of boom tubes.”

“I took a class on Martian society and customs back in university.”

“Of course. Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m still here. Yeah, we can see Baby.” Nightwing returned to his earpiece, eyes under the mask jumping left and right and up and down as he calculated the quickest way to the ship. “It’ll take us at least 5 minutes to cross the battlefield. Yeah, I know. Alright, see you soon.” He turned to her. “Ok, we’re going to go. Whatever you do, just follow me. Hopefully, we won’t run into any trouble, the other superheroes know to clear a path for us. Just stay behind me and let me handle it, ok?”

She nodded, swallowing thickly. She was almost there. She was mere minutes from boarding a ship that would take her home. To Dick.

She couldn’t wait to see him again.

Nightwing took her nod as a sign that she was ready and pushed the doors open, urging her outside. The sounds of the ongoing fights increased exponentially, explosions going off left and right in the air, ninjas screaming and sending little throwing stars flying all over. In a normal situation, Smokes would have been terrified and would have probably opted to hide in the building until the fight was over; but the vigilante had other plans, and hiding was not an option.

Sensing her slight hesitation, he grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers together and holding onto her tightly, and started running towards the bio-ship. The man was freakishly tall, and she struggled to keep up with his long strides, especially when he showed no signs of slowing down. But Nightwing was a man on a mission, and she knew he would do everything in his power to get her onto that ship.

They ran as fast as they could, Smokes keeping her head down to avoid all the violence surrounding them. She saw multiple superheroes interrupting their fights to give Nightwing small nods of acknowledgment, some even helping make a path for them amid the explosive battlefield. Red Hood and Robin (who had let this child skip school to fight in a life-threatening battle in the middle of nowhere?), in particular, hovered close to them for quite some time, fighting any criminals that threatened to get in their way.

They were barely ten feet away when Nightwing abruptly stopped, eyebrows furrowing in concern. She turned to look at him, trying to get a read on his face. “What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong, little bird.” He pulled onto her hand, starting to slowly walk backward. The bio-ship gleamed unnaturally in the sunlight, and understanding flashed over his features, followed by sheer alarm. “Get behind me! Now!”

Nightwing barely had time to throw himself over her, shielding her entire body with his and dragging her behind a stack of precariously stacked crates, before the bio-ship blew up with a deafening blast. They instinctively crouched; Smokes covered her ears, feeling the heat emanating from the explosion and scooting further into the vigilante’s arms. The latter tightened his grip around her, tucking her away into his chest safely. Some of the boxes toppled over, but he batted them away with a simple flick of his strong arms.

The ear-splitting blare was followed by a thick cloud of smoke, causing both of them to cough and cover their mouths. Nightwing only dared a peek at the bio-ship when the subsequent cloud of dust and dirt subsided, and Smokes followed suit despite her teary eyes and sore throat.

“Fuck.” He cursed when his eyes landed on the ship - or, well, what was left of the ship.

The entire rear part of the ship had been blown off, debris and various junk still falling like rain around the remnants of the ship. It was still flickering with life, so Smokes was fairly optimistic it was still alive (for she’d found out during that course that Martian bio-ships were sentient beings) but it was in no shape to fly her anywhere.

Fuck indeed.

“Ok.” Nightwing only panicked for a split second, taking control of the situation almost immediately. “Miss Martian? Superboy? Everything ok?” He asked into his earpiece, huffing a small sigh of relief when he heard their answer. “Glad you’re ok. New plan: Batman and the rest of the Bats took a helicopter to get here. We’ll take that. Just-”

“Going somewhere?”

A chilling, depressingly familiar voice boomed behind them, and Smokes’ entire body tensed when she realized whom it belonged to.

Nightwing and Smokes both turned around slowly, the vigilante reaching for her hand to hold onto her while he slyly grabbed onto one of his escrima sticks with the other. But there, standing on a boulder, with his gray ponytail swaying in the wind and shining in the sunlight was none other than Slade Wilson. He was wearing his creepy black and orange mask, but Smokes could make out the vengeful smirk painting his lips all the same.

“As a matter of fact, we are,” Nightwing replied coolly, activating his escrima stick with an electric buzz. “We’re getting out of this cesspool of an island, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, but I do mind.”

“I’m afraid that was just a polite saying, old guy. We don’t give a rat’s ass if you mind.” Nightwing snarled back, muscles flexing - he was anticipating a fight.

“That’s a shame. But Taser and I have some unfinished business left to resolve, so if you’re planning on leaving the island, I fear you will be leaving it on your own.” Wilson drawled deftly, flashing her a lust-filled smile.

Smokes was going to barf. The only thing that kept her puking then and there was the way Nightwing squeezed her hand twice, his hand becoming her only tether to the world.

“Over my dead body.” The vigilante muttered loud enough for the villain to hear, pure, undiluted hatred exuding from every part of his body.

“Hmm, I suppose we’ll hang your head as a trophy in our living room. Our children will be able to stare at it and laugh at your stupidity for the rest of their lives.”

That comment was very clearly a bait, and Smokes was half-certain Nightwing was aware of it. Or, well, she hoped he was. Because as soon as the word “our children” (ew) left Deathstroke’s mouth, the vigilante leaped into action, letting go of her hand to grab onto his other escrima stick and running towards the criminal.

Nightwing hopped onto a stack of crates, then another, finally landing on the boulder with a back handspring. Deathstroke already had his swords out and immediately lunged for the vigilante, throwing all of his weight into the blow. Nightwing quickly avoided the jab, and the following one, and the one after that, twirling his escrima sticks in his hands as he attempted to hit Deathstroke too.

The two men almost looked like they were dancing, if it weren’t for the way they were drawing blood and staring at each other with death in their gazes. Smokes had to swallow her scream when Deathstroke managed a clean cut on Nightwing’s right arm - the hit must have been shallow, for the vigilante immediately responded by tasing the criminal when he least expected it.

Still, as the minutes ticked by, the fight grew more violent and gory. Nightwing managed to knock one of Deathstroke’s swords out of his hands, then the second one. He smirked, thinking he finally had the criminal cornered, only for Deathstroke to throw himself at him, grab onto his waist, and push them both over the edge of the boulder.

This time, Smokes screamed at the top of their lungs as she watched the two men plummeting down, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Nightwing lost his escrima sticks during the fall, but that didn’t stop him from rolling out of Deathstroke’s grip and jumping back to his feet with a cartwheel.

The fight grew more violent, the two men using nothing but their fists and sheer force to fight each other. Blood was trickling down Nightwing’s nose and jaw, and half of Wilson’s mask was now torn and dangling from his face. Smokes was frozen with fear all throughout, not knowing what to do to help the vigilante. Their punches and kicks were too brutal and precise for her, she would never be able to keep up; she’d probably only end up getting hurt, which wouldn’t do much to help Nightwing.

Deathstroke delivered a particularly cruel punch right in Nightwing’s chest, causing the man to tumble back and crash into another stack of crates that fell on top of him.

Smokes’ eyes widened in fear when she realized the vigilante wasn’t moving under the pile of boxes. “Nightwing!”

She moved to take a step towards him, but stopped short when a slimy, bloody hand closed around her arm with brutal force. Her entire body was shaking with fear when she raised her head to look into Wilson’s eyes.

His entire face was covered in blood, and a new, long gash ran from his eyebrow down to his eye. His blue eyes were cold and unyielding, pure rage coating his every feature. Smokes tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only gripped her arm harder.

“Enough is enough, my sweet Taser,” Wilson spoke slowly, in between ragged breaths. The fight with Nightwing had taken its toll on him. “You’ve had your bout of your rebellion.”

“Bout of rebell-” She sputtered, only to be interrupted by Wilson’s other hand slapping her from the right. The blow was so hard her entire head moved to the left, and she had to blink the tears away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“I said, enough is enough. We are going away, to somewhere safe. You are going to do what I asked you to and carry my heir, and that is final.” Wilson spat every word at her, but Smokes was having none of it. She met his gaze with just as much rage and resolve.

“I will never ever do what you want. I would rather die than be your personal incubator.” She hissed with all the fury she could muster. Something moved out of the corner of her right eye.

Wilson’s eyes darkened. “You don’t have a choice. You’re going to come with me, and we’re going to have this fucking baby whether you-”

His sentence was cut off by Nightwing’s fist smashing right into his face, with so much force the villain staggered back and toppled over. The vigilante was covered in blood, but it didn’t matter to him because he was seething. Smokes had never seen him look so fiercely angry, eyes dark and uneven breathing filled with hatred. 

Nightwing wasted no time in pouncing on top of Wilson, landing another blow to his face while he used his legs to pin the old man to the floor. Deathstroke tried to retaliate, but the movement was met with yet another jab into his jaw.

“You’re nothing but an old pervert, and you’re going to jail.” Nightwing spit in his face, his own blood dripping and mixing with Wilson’s.

The old man only smiled in response, teeth bloody and broken, and then turned to stare at Smokes. His eyes were bloodshot but still as chilling as ever. “Taser, I will find you and-”

Nightwing punched him again, with even more force than before. “Keep your eyes off of her.” He spat, hitting him. “Don’t talk to her,” Punch. “Don’t look at her,” Punch. “Don’t even fucking think about touching her,” Punch. “If I catch you even trying to do any of these things,” Punch. “I will fucking murder you.”

“That-” Wilson coughed up some blood, turning to his other side to spit it out. “That’s going to be hard when the baby-”

Nightwing’s fist met his jaw. “Like I said.” Punch. “Over. My. Dead. Body.”

Wilson was breathing very heavily, and Smokes wasn’t sure Nightwing would have stopped hitting the old man if Superboy and Miss Martian hadn’t arrived. Miss Martian stood beside her, making sure she was alright, while Superboy helped Nightwing off of the Wilson and together they tied up the old man.

Superboy was still tying the rope when Nightwing raised his head to look at her. Their eyes locked across the small distance, and the vigilante started walking towards her, as if entranced by her.

“Are you ok?” He asked, stopping just a few feet from her and running a bloody hand through his bloody hair. He was covered in blood from head to toe, and Smokes had never seen him in such a state.

“Are you?” She retorted, reaching a hand out to his cheek but stopping just a few inches short of touching him. 

He gave her a toothy grin, a gesture so familiar it boggled her - but she couldn’t quite place it. 

“Never been better.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

An hour later, the battle had mostly subsided. As expected, most ninjas and lowly criminals had turned themselves in as soon as the news that Deathstroke had been captured broke out. Other more important criminals, such as Lady Shiva and Cassandra Savage, had put up more of a fight, but they’d ultimately managed to catch them all.

Superheroes were still rushing back and forth, rounding up criminals and organizing groups. It would probably take multiple days to identify everyone and send them to the according penitentiary, not to mention the thousands of trials that would take place, but it was a start.

And, it wasn’t her problem anyway.

Smokes and Nightwing were standing in front of the helicopter that would take her home, while Miss Martian and Superboy ran the last routine checks before departure. Someone had given Nightwing a towel to clean up a little, so he wasn’t as bloody as he’d been before - still, a lot of blood had dried up and his suit was now more of a maroon color. Smokes didn’t envy whoever would have to wash it.

“So…” He started, turning to her with his hands on his hips. “Guess this is it.”

“I guess it is.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “For what?”

“Well, for… coming to save me and all.” Her cheeks started heating up, and Nightwing only chuckled in response.

“Little bird, I was just doing my job. What kind of vigilante would I be if I didn’t even save people?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he laughed again.

“You know what I mean.”

“Ok, ok. It was my honor to save you, little bird. I’m just happy you’re safe and sound and going home.”

“Me too.” She nodded happily.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Red Hood approaching them. He stopped beside Nightwing, flashing her a smile. “Heya sweetheart. Still in one piece, I see.”

“No thanks to you,” Nightwing muttered under his breath, giving Red Hood the most judgmental side-eye Smokes had ever seen. The latter winced in response.

“Right. Any plans when you get home?” Red Hood asked.

“I’m honestly just planning on sleeping for two days straight. Oh, and I can’t wait to go back to my usual investigations with Dick.”

Nightwing’s smile grew soft. “Dick will be waiting for you when you land.”

Red Hood furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “He will?”

“Yes, he will.” Nightwing spat back, glaring at Red Hood yet again. They exchanged a knowing look, relaying some unspoken message she could not unscramble.

“Aaaah yes, of course. He will.” Red Hood nodded solemnly, and Nightwing smacked his arm in response.

But before she could inquire about their weird exchange, Red Robin showed up, Deathstroke in tow. Nightwing’s nostrils flared, his entire body tensing as he grabbed onto Smokes and pushed her behind him. Even Red Hood looked on high alert. Deathstroke, on the other hand, looked entirely drained, eyes empty of any resolve - he looked like he’d finally given up.

“Sorry, guys,” Red Robin apologized, tugging onto Wilson’s rope to move him forward. “Old man is being a bitch and has to be moved.”

“Right. Wonder what Dick would say about this all.” Red Hood elbowed Nightwing in the ribs, ignoring the murderous glare the latter sent his way.

Smokes chuckled, happy to talk about the man waiting for her in Gotham. “Dick hates his guts, I think he’d be very happy to land a fist in his face.”

“One? He’d need at least ten to be satisfied.” Red Robin replied, and both he and Red Hood laughed at some inside joke she couldn’t understand. Nightwing just shook his head in exasperation.

Wilson watched the whole exchange with interest, eyes widening when he realized something. “You have no idea, do you?” He said, looking at Smokes.

She trembled under his gaze, eyes blinking in confusion as everybody around them froze. “What?”

“You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He repeated, astonished. Then let out a small laugh as he mulled it over. “It’s all a lie, and you have no idea. And when you do find out… god, the betrayal!”

What in the world was this old man talking about?

Nightwing moved in front of her protectively. “Red Robin, get him out of here.”

Red Robin instantly nodded, grabbing onto the rope and pulling him forward. But Wilson craned his neck to look at her, eyes still gleaming with mischief. “Come find me when you do find out, Taser. We can talk about your future then.”

Nightwing and Red Hood both huffed a sigh of relief when Wilson’s evil cackles disappeared in the distance. “Just forget about it, little bird.” The former said. “It’s just the dementia getting to him.”

Smokes nodded, unconvinced, and was about to ask what in the world Wilson was on about when Miss Martian joined them, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Maverick, we’re ready to go whenever you are.”

“I’m ready.” She assured the woman, turning her attention back to Nightwing and Red Hood. “Well, thank you for coming. Really.”

“It was nothing. Have a safe trip home, little bird.” Nightwing replied softly, winking at her.

She rolled her eyes, jogging towards the helicopter. “You really couldn’t help yourself, huh, boy wonder?” She called behind her.

Nightwing’s laughter boomed despite the growing sound of the helicopter blades, and her heart squeezed in her chest. The sound was… oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

She was probably just being paranoid anyway.

The helicopter ride took nearly four hours, despite Miss Martian and Superboy both assuring her that this was one of the fastest helicopters in the world (she couldn’t begin to imagine how much time the trip would take in a regular one). Smokes took a small nap and realized - when Miss Martian kindly offered her some food - that she was absolutely starving. The superheroine filled the silence and asked her some questions, and Smokes took an instant liking to her. Superboy joined the conversation from time to time, and Smokes was 99% sure the two were dating. They were oddly familiar and their dynamic reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t remember who. Her brain was probably just playing tricks on her.

Night had fallen when they finally reached Gotham PD’s helipad, and Smokes stretched her limbs lazily, excited to leave the aircraft after hours of being cooped up inside. She stuck her head to the window, wind blowing through her hair as she tried to spot Dick’s familiar figure on the helipad.

There were many people, including who she thought was the commissioner James Gordon, but she couldn’t recognize Dick among them. She was probably just too far.

Superboy landed smoothly, and both Smokes and Miss Martian were already unbuckling their seatbelts when the helicopter blades stopped turning. Smokes eagerly jumped off the helicopter, breathing in Gotham’s fresh night air and scanning the small crowd standing on the helipad. The commissioner was tapping his foot impatiently, checking his watch constantly, and barking out orders to police officers, and next to him-

Her breath caught in her throat when her gaze landed on a familiar pair of blue eyes, that crinkled with joy, and a smile so blinding it felt like staring at the sun.

For a few seconds, Smokes could do nothing but stare at him. There. Waiting for her. Happy. Alive.

Dick was the first one to break the stalemate, pushing some officers out of his way and jogging towards her. Smokes broke into a jog as well, mirroring his own smile as they grew closer. When they were barely a few feet apart, she didn’t hesitate: she instantly threw her arms around his chest, reveling in the way he gasped and broke into a gleeful, honest laugh. Dick promptly returned the gesture, enveloping in his warm, reassuring arms and pulling her even closer to him. 

“Welcome home, Smokes.” He spoke into her hair, caressing it gently.

Smokes pulled back a little, arms still snaked around his chest. “Dick… I’m so sorry. You were right. I shouldn’t have-”

“Shh.” He shushed her, still smiling. “I wasn’t right. You were amazing.”

She deadpanned. “I blew my cover and got kidnapped.”

“Yeah, and you got us the documents and allowed the Justice League to take down the entirety of the Santa Prisca headquarters.” He sighed happily. “You were incredible. A little terrifying, to be honest, but incredible nonetheless.”

She chuckled at his words, then hugged him again and buried her head into his chest. “I missed you. So much.”

“I missed you too. You have no idea.” She felt him swallow, calloused hands still stroking her hair gently. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Smokes hummed in response, feeling serene for the first time in a week. “Yes, please.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“ -the operation carried out by the Justice League ended up being their most successful operation in decades, resulting in the arrest of over a thousand League of Shadows members, including dangerous threats such as Lady Shiva and Cassandra Savage. But the biggest catch was, without a doubt, League of Shadows leader and deadliest criminal, Slade Wilson, also known as Deathstroke, who’s been evading the League for years. He is notably responsible for the kidnapping and grooming of young exiled Markovian princess Tara Markov, and-”

The Nest’s television buzzed softly in the background, but none of them were really paying attention, too busy digging into the homemade cake.

Dick and Tim had invited Jason, Damian, and even Alfred to celebrate Smokes’ return home and successful mission, which had resulted in the complete takedown of the headquarters on Santa Prisca. Damian and Alfred had even made a cake that read “ Welcome home, Sokes! ” (Damian had forgotten to pipe the m and, according to Jason, it had taken them nearly an hour to calm him down).

Damian, Alfred, and Tim were sitting on the couch, paper plates with poorly cut cake slices sitting in their laps, and were laughing at something Jason was saying - probably about the way Dick had completely lost his shit during the mission.

Smokes had in fact returned to a mutilated desk chair and multiple missing mugs, and when she’d asked Dick about their whereabouts, the blue-eyed man had turned bright red while his brothers snickered behind him.

Smokes, Dick, and Jason were sitting on the floor with their legs crossed, Dick’s knee resting beside hers. The warm contact gave her goosebumps, but after a Dick-less week (yes, she was aware of what that sounded like) there was no way she would ask him to move.

“Miss Maverick, it looks like you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Alfred commented between bites, staring at her with pride.

“Hmm, it would appear so. But I think it’s going to be more of a one-time-and-never-again type of thing.” She replied under Dick’s watchful gaze.

Damian didn’t look satisfied with her answer. “Really? Why?” 

“I just think I’d rather stay in Gotham and conduct Dick and I’s usual investigations. Less risks, less creepy criminals, and more cake.” Smokes was speaking to all of them, but her eyes were staring right into Dick’s blue. The man was staring right back, smiling at her softly.

“Yes, I think we’ve all had enough heart attacks for a lifetime.” He commented, causing everybody to laugh.

“Those poor mugs,” She sighed, shaking her head. “You murdered them. It was a mug genocide.” She placed a hand on his right arm, and Dick winced. She instantly removed it, furrowing her eyebrows at him. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

“Oh? No, I’m not hurt, I just… accidentally cut myself with one of the mug pieces when I cleaned up, that’s all.” He rambled, pulling his arm away and covering the peeking gash with his sleeve.

Smokes blinked in confusion, especially when Jason and Tim looked at her expectantly. It was almost as if they were waiting for her to realize something. Whatever it was, though, she’d completely missed it, and she was more than happy to do so. She’d done enough thinking for a lifetime. She was thankful to be home, and that was enough for her right then. She could worry about important things such as Oxford and whatever Dick was hiding another day.

Because Smokes had made up her mind.

She was going to tell Dick what had happened in Oxford.

Chapter Text

Saturday April 24th, 2027, 11:23 AM, Gotham City Community College

“- now that we’ve reviewed the various verbs related to public transportation, could somebody translate the sentence “I took the tram at 10:00 in the morning” in German for me?” Professor Fischer asked the class, crossing her arms and lying against the desk.

Smokes would have raised her hand to provide the answer - it was Ich nahm die Straßenbahn um 10:00 Uhr morgens, of course - if it weren’t for the way her phone suddenly started vibrating in her bag.

She huffed, hoping nobody had noticed it was her device pulsing across the room, and started rummaging through her purse. She frowned when she read the name on the display. Dick.

Weird. Today was Saturday, and they never investigated during the weekend. He often sent her pictures of Damian doing his homework (sometimes asleep on his notebooks, with obscene doodles Jason drew on his face), of Alfred cooking meals, of him hanging out with his brothers, but he never outright called her.

She pondered the call only a few seconds before promptly declining it, slipping her phone back into her bag and hoping nobody had noticed her. The last time Professor Fischer had caught somebody on her phone, she’d gone on an hour-long tangent about the “new generation” and their “lack of attention span”. The culprit had never come back to class.

But a mere two minutes later, her phone was ringing again. Smokes’ nostrils flared in annoyance as she reached for the device again. It was still Dick.

“What if we wanted to add a destination? University, for example. Does anybody remember how to say university in German?” Professor Fischer droned in the background.

“Universität,” Smokes mumbled under her breath, declining the call yet again and trying to pay attention to the beginner’s class. 

She’d started looking for classes a mere two days after she’d returned from her undercover mission, never wanting to feel so locked out of conversations ever again, and had stumbled upon this community college course. Professor Fischer had amazing reviews - despite none of them mentioning how terrifying she was - and Smokes had started attending the class religiously.

It was the first time she set foot in a university after Oxford, and the experience had been less terrifying than she’d expected it to be. She was happy to learn a new language, and to finally do something for herself; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in a new hobby.

She turned back to the class and listened carefully as Professor Fischer listed several names of places that they had already learned about the week before, but that most of them had already forgotten. But Dick, damn him, kept calling, and after fifteen minutes she was left with ten missed calls and was starting to worry.

She stared at her phone screen, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth, debating whether she should just ditch the class and call him back. If he was so insistent then something must have been wrong and-

Dick: I know you’re ignoring me on purpose.

Dick: I also know you’re at Gotham Community College.

Dick: I’m waiting for you outside.

Dick: Please hurry. Emergency. I’ll tell you on the way.

Her worry quickly transformed into anger. He was waiting for her outside? How did he even know where she was? Multiple people turned their heads toward her as she started angrily putting her things back into her bag, muttering incoherent sentences about “the gall of that man” and “utter lack of respect for her privacy” and more obscene things. She stalked out of the class in such a fury that even Professor Fischer did not attempt to scold her, not daring to ask her why she was leaving.

Smokes spotted him immediately, propped onto his shiny black car with his arms crossed and a teasing smile on his lips. She descended the steps tantalizingly slow, hoping he would sense the sheer amount of rage emanating from her right now.

But Dick’s poor, oblivious soul did not notice a thing, and this only further aggravated her. 

She stopped a few feet from him, crossing her arms in frustration and tapping her foot impatiently. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.” She asked - or, to be precise, bit out as calmly as she could (which was, to no one’s surprise, not very calm at all).

Dick’s smile faltered for only a second, before beaming brighter than before. “Good morning to you too, Smokes. What’s got you so riled up so early in the morning?”

“Dick, it’s 11:30. It’s nearly lunchtime.” She deadpanned, then realized what he was asking and sighed, pinching her nose in irritation. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“Yeah, but it’s Saturday, so in my book, 11:30 is quite early.” He waved her off laughing.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I told you, work emergency. It’s urgent and I didn’t have the time to-”

“No, Dick, that’s not what I meant. How did you know I was here?” She asked again, hoping his stupidity wouldn’t force her to fling him across the street.

Dick blinked, seemingly realizing why she was mad. “Here? Well, originally I drove directly to your apartment, thinking you’d be there but… you weren’t.”

“So you stalked me and tracked my location?” She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, nostrils flaring in poorly contained anger.

He winced. “Well, I… sort of.”

“Sort of? Dick, you tracked me! How did you even do that? Do I have some sort of GPS I didn’t know of in my car?”

“What? No! I wouldn’t track you so shamelessly without your consent.” She glared at him, causing him to cower slightly. “Ok, fine, I see the irony. I did not place a GPS in your car. I simply… well, you weren’t answering, and as I said this is urgent, so I tracked your phone.” He paused, looking at her to gauge her reaction.

Smokes just shook her head, sighing in resignation. Fine. No need to set him on fire, then. “Alright, I’ll let it go. Just… please don’t track me again. I’m entitled to my privacy, y’know?”

He beamed. “Believe me, I know. This is just an emergency.” He paused, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion at the building behind her. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“Here?”

“Gotham City Community College. What are you doing here?” Smokes felt her cheeks turning red, and Dick’s growing smirk only confirmed it. “No, seriously, what are you doing here? Are you attending a course?”

She looked away, embarrassed, and hummed in agreement. To her surprise, Dick didn’t start teasing her; no, his blue eyes started gleaming with happiness and… something else. Pride, maybe. His smile grew impossibly wide.

“That’s amazing, Smokes. What are you studying?”

She sighed. There was no point in hiding it now. “It’s just a German beginner’s class.”

It took Dick approximately ten seconds to compute this new information, his features morphing into confusion, followed by suspicion and finally understanding. “Is this about you not understanding what the MRE members were saying during the meetings with Wilson?”

Smokes shuddered at the mention of Deathstroke. It had been over a month, but his words still haunted her. “We’re going to have this fucking baby” her whole body had tensed with familiar fear, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from comparing this sentence to the first time she’d heard it nearly two years ago. The circumstances were different but… she’d felt trapped all the same. She suspected it would never get easier.

That, and “It’s all a lie, and you have no idea. Come find me when you do find out, Taser. We can talk about your future then”. What did Wilson even mean by that? What had she missed? What was she supposed to find out? She’d heard on the news that Wilson had been locked up at Gotham Penitentiary, and that he’d been denied bail. The trial wouldn’t be for another few months, but the mere idea of Wilson being in the same city as her made her queasy.

She huffed, looking away. “Sort of. I just thought it would be useful for me to know some German, since we keep having to deal with the MRE and all. I thought it could be… an investment for our investigations. Or something like that.” 

His face softened. “Smokes. You didn’t have to do that. Truly.”

“No, I wanted to. I care about our work and I want to be useful.” She scratched her arm sheepishly, not knowing why she was feeling so embarrassed all of a sudden. 

“Smokes, you don’t need to learn another language to be useful.”

“No, I know but… languages are my thing. That’s what I contribute to the team. If I can’t even do that right then-”

“Smokes, no.” His voice was gentle yet firm, not leaving any space for rebuttal. “You’re not helpful just because you speak a bunch of languages. You’re helpful because you’re you .”

Smokes blinked under the weight of his gaze. There it was again, that indecipherable look in his eyes that made her stomach bottom out with warmth and… something else. Something she should ignore. Something she was pointedly ignoring. “I’m not exactly a trained P.I.”

“You don’t need to be. You’re smart, you’re a scientist - remember the whole ordeal with the atomic bombs? If you hadn’t been there, I would have never been able to disarm them by myself. You saved the day. You did that.” He paused, his breathing slightly uneven as he continued on his tangent. “Besides, you just got back from an undercover mission that brought down the entirety of the Shadow of Leagues.”

“Actually, Bane escaped and- ow!” She yelped when Dick flicked her forehead, massaging the spot.

“I won’t stand for this negative talk anymore. You’re always bringing yourself down, it’s about time you stop undermining your achievements. Are we clear?”

She pouted under his watchful gaze, rolling her eyes. Yet she couldn’t help the small smile that coated her lips, and she could tell Dick was struggling to contain his as well. “Fine. Yes. Clear. No more undermining my achievement.”

The smile that spread on his face was so genuine it made her knees shake. “Good girl.”

Oh, her knees were definitely going to buckle now. She needed to defuse this situation right now. Yesterday, even. “Well, one of us needed to learn German anyways, and it wasn’t going to be you.”

Dick frowned, not expecting the quip. “What- I could learn German!”

“Dick, you can barely speak English as is.”

He gasped, feigning offense. “I could learn German if I wanted to!” She raised her eyebrows at him, which only served to provoke him further. “I could!”

“Alright, alright. If you say so.”

“I do say so!”

She stifled a laugh. Dick’s pouting was adorable, but she couldn’t let him know that - it would probably get to his head. “Let’s get back to business. What’s this big emergency anyway?”

“Ah, right.” He sobered up instantly, and she mourned the loss of the childlike pout for a split second (just a split second, because she wasn’t a psychopath or anything). “We got a peculiar noise complaint from a young couple down in Harlem.”

She deadpanned. “Your grand emergency that simply couldn’t wait and that had you stalking me was a noise complaint ?”

“I know how that sounds, but hear me out. The police department originally wasn’t even going to send us the file, until they went to investigate and found out which apartment the peculiar sounds came from. And you’ll never guess whom it belongs to.”

“Oh god. It could belong to a lot of people. We’ve met so many criminals by now, and they don’t exactly like us.”

Dick laughed at her comment. “That’s true. Well, to make things simple, think atomic bombs and weird vendetta against me.”

“Nakamura?”

“Bingo. We’re still missing quite a few meta-animals from the list, so there’s a pretty good possibility we’ll find some of the missing ones there.”

After the documents she’d found in Wilson had revealed the League of Shadows’ real project - forming an army of meta-animals - the Justice League had used up all of its resources to track down these animals and heal them. Dick and Smokes had spent the past month chasing animals all around Gotham like some crazed zookeepers. It wasn’t that bad when they were small, non-aggressive animals, but just last week they’d had to deal with a lava cow that shot projectiles their way every time they tried to approach it, and it had taken nearly five hours of coaxing to get it to walk into the van.

There were still some animals missing from Wilson’s extensive, perfectly organized list, notably some sort of flying monkey and litter of ten kittens, and Tim and Dick had been going insane trying to find them.

“Ok, I guess we’ll go check it out then. But, one one condition. I-”

“You drive.” He completed with a knowing smile, eagerly tossing her his car keys. “I know, I know.”

She grinned. “You do know me quite well, now, don’t you?”

“Uncanny, don’t you think?”

But as they walked to the car, Smokes couldn’t help but think there was still one thing he didn’t know about her: Oxford. She had yet to find the opportune moment to tell him. Maybe today would be the day.

After all, in merely two days, it would be two years since it had all gone down. Two years since her life had gone up in flames, since she’d lost her job, since she’d lost herself.

Last year the day had been hellish. But maybe this year it didn’t have to be this way.

She dared a quick glance at the blue-eyed man sitting beside her. He was biting his lip in concentration, messing with the car’s Bluetooth to put on some Taylor Swift songs. She smiled softly at his lack of technological capacities.

Maybe this year she wouldn’t have to do it alone.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Millie and Luke were the kindest couple of newlyweds Smokes had ever met. Still in their early thirties, the two looked at each other with nothing but pure love in their eyes, and revealed they’d been together for nearly ten years. It seemed that for some people, the honeymoon phase never ended. 

The newlyweds’ pure happiness reminded Smokes of Cora, and she smiled at the numerous nights her best friend had spent raging against marriage. Cora was vehemently against marriage, for “marriage is just an institution to trap women and serves no real purpose” and other arguments Smokes didn’t really comprehend or agree with. It didn’t matter though, for Marcus - her boyfriend - was in total agreement with Cora (or, Smokes suspected, was simply whipped enough to agree with whatever his girlfriend said). Cora and Marcus had spent so many nights arguing with Ember and Josh - Ember’s boyfriend - about marriage, and Smokes had always been content to watch the debate escalate.

She didn’t miss Oxford and her old life as much as she once had, but living close to her friends was the one thing she could never help but long for.

After offering them biscuits and coffee, as well as some fascinating stories from their honeymoon in Bali (or Cuba? Smokes had been too busy staring at Dick’s bright smile and couldn’t say for certain which one it was), they explained why they’d called the police station the previous morning.

“When we bought the apartment, we were told the neighboring loft belonged to some millionaire and had been empty for quite some time now,” Luke explained while holding his wife’s hand on the couch. “The realtor told us we were lucky, and that we wouldn’t have to deal with noisy neighbors - at least on our floor.”

Dick nodded solemnly before asking: “And when did you start hearing these noises?”

“A month ago, maybe?” Millie turned to her husband, and he hummed in agreement. “At first it wasn’t much, just the sound of footsteps sometimes, or small items being knocked over.”

“But now it’s gotten out of control. It feels like there are dozens of people in there, walking around and making a mess all day long.” Luke continued.

Smokes frowned at the statement. “You’ve heard people speaking, then?”

“Well… no,” Millie admitted. “But we’ve heard crying. And some… moaning. We’ve also heard plates being moved, so whoever is in there is definitely having meals.”

“But the police won’t do anything because they don’t have a search warrant.” Luke completed, letting his annoyance at the situation shine through.

Ten minutes later they bid Millie and Luke goodbye, promising to figure something out. The couple thanked them profusely, then closed their front door, leaving Smokes and Dick standing on their welcome mat. 

They both turned to stare at the peculiar black door across the lobby. Dick’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and Smokes couldn’t decipher what he was thinking.

“Dick.”

“Hm?”

“Do we have a search warrant?”

“Nope.” He replied thoughtfully, popping the p.

“Then what are we going to do?”

“It’s ok. We don’t need one.”

Smokes was about to retort that they definitely needed one unless they wanted to be arrested for breaking and entering, but barely had time to open her mouth to protest before Dick walked two long strides to stand in front of the locked door. A strangled sound left her throat when he started messing with the lock.

“Dick! We can’t do that! That’s illegal!” She cried, rushing to his side. Her words seemed to have little effect on his actions, for he continued his work diligently.

“You worry too much, Smokes, we’ll be fine. There are some perks to having dated the commissioner’s daughter, in case you forgot.”

No, Smokes had not forgotten, despite how much she’d tried. It was hard to hate Barbara when the woman was so chirpy and supportive, yet sometimes she couldn’t help the jealousy that stirred in her stomach. She had yet to meet the woman in real life, but she’d gotten a text from her when the mission had ended, and the two had been texting semi-regularly.

The sound of the door unlocking snapped her out of her daydream, and Smokes watched as Dick smirked in triumph.

“Bingo. Now, let’s see who’s hiding in here.”

He slowly pushed the door open, taking cautious steps inside the apartment. The bright midday light shone inside the living room, for there were no curtains, and Smokes was surprised to find the place utterly empty, with no furniture in sight.

They stood in the empty space for a few beats.

“My bet is on the flying monkey.” Smokes eventually muttered dejectedly, causing Dick to chuckle. “The kittens would be too tame, and clearly the universe wants to ruin my Saturday.”

Dick bumped his shoulder with hers gently, and her skin warmed at the contact. She bit her cheek to hide her blush. “And the flying monkey would ruin your Saturday?”

“Without a doubt.” She walked away from him with a shaky breath, hoping to put some distance between them and whatever her body was up to.

They started exploring the apartment together. The place was, and this was no understatement, entirely empty. It was mostly clean, though a few rooms were covered in thin layers of dust. There were three bedrooms, each equipped with their own fitted closet, as well as a small study, two bathrooms, and a well-equipped kitchen.

But there were no signs of intruders nor meta-animals.

Dick and Smokes stood in the master bedroom, pacing back and forth in tandem.

“Maybe Millie and Luke misheard.” Smokes attempted, trying to sort her own thoughts. “Or maybe the sounds were coming from another neighbor.”

“This is the only other apartment on the floor, though.”

“Maybe it was an upstairs neighbor. Or a downstairs one.” She shrugged, and Dick sighed in resignation. This was clearly a dead-end. So much for an emergency.

“Ok, I guess we’re done here then. We can regroup at the Nest and-”

His sentence was abruptly interrupted by the resounding sound of scratching in the apartment. Both Dick and Smokes stilled, eyes blinking in confusion as they looked at each other questioningly, to make sure they’d both heard the same thing.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

“Do you hear that?” Dick whispered, moving closer to her. He looked like he was almost scared that any abrupt movement would stop the sound.

But the sound didn’t stop. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

“Loud and clear.” Smokes murmured back, looking around the room. The sound was so loud it had to come from within the room. “I think… I think it might be coming from the closet. It’s the only plausible explanation.”

They cautiously moved to the fitted closet, hoping they wouldn’t scare away whatever animal was hiding in there. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. But when Dick pushed the closet’s door to the side, it was just as empty as the rest of the house.

“What the fuck.” Dick muttered under his breath, more puzzled than ever. His brows creased further when the sound resumed. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Understanding hit Smokes after another few seconds of staring at the closet dumbfounded, and she started knocking on the back wall. “It’s coming from behind the wall.”

“Shit, you’re right. Ok, I’ve got this. Stand back, Smokes.” Dick ordered, rolling up his sleeves and tentatively tapping the wall to assess its sturdiness.

Smokes did as she was told, crouching nonetheless over Dick’s shoulder to inspect what he was doing. The man took a deep breath before smashing his fist into the wall a few times. Some dust picked up, forcing Smokes to step backward as she coughed.

Once Dick had punched the wall a few times, he started methodically tearing various chunks of it off to reveal the closet’s hidden compartment. They both stared in astonishment at what they found.

“Holy fucking shit.” Smokes breathed, stunned.

Because hidden in the compartment was a litter of puppies. Or, to be precise, multiple litters of puppies. Probably around 50 puppies, staring back at them with wide eyes and wagging tails as they rushed out of the closet, barking wildly, and flung themselves on their saviors.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

It took Dick and Smokes nearly an hour to gather all the puppies back in the room, then another hour to place them all inside the van Tim sent them. He was conveniently out of town, visiting Cassie in Washington, and thus could not provide them with any real help. After multiple calls with Jason and Bruce, it was decided that they would take the puppies to the Nest and hold them there until they came up with a better solution. Bruce had some contacts with an adoption agency, so hopefully, they’d be able to take the puppies off their hands soon enough.

The puppies weren’t on any of Wilson’s extensive lists, and after spending nearly two hours running after them, Smokes was 99% certain they weren’t meta-animals yet. They just seemed to be regular puppies, excited as any puppies would be to make new human acquaintances. The puppies were a chaotic bunch, though they seemed to get along fairly well. There was a small Pitbull that was set on courting a Labrador, as well as an Australian Shepherd and a Corgi who wouldn’t stop biting each other’s tails. The most problematic puppy was probably the German Shepherd, whom Dick had affectionately nicknamed Dash because he kept running away and barking at everyone (even at flies).

Needless to say, Smokes already felt like an overworked kindergarten teacher. And she feared things would only get worse, for the Nest was already messy enough as it was, but if you added 53 puppies to the mix… they were going to be cleaning up puppy poo and pee for a long time.

In the end, it took them a grand total of 3 hours and 23 minutes to gather all the puppies into the Nest’s living room. The apartment was clearly not made to hold so many feral pups, and Dick and Smokes spent the first hour putting dangerous items out of reach or hiding them in other rooms (when Dash wasn’t looking, for otherwise he would rush right in and invite other puppies too, and that was too much chaos).

Once anything that could harm them was out of the way, Dick and Smokes quickly realized that they couldn’t abandon the puppies to their own devices. Dash was too much of a troublemaker, and the others were also restless after spending who knew how long in that closet. It took one glance at Dash and a Golden Retriever ripping Tim’s computer mouse apart (served him well for not being here to deal with this mess), and another glance at each other before they resigned themselves to their fates. They would have to stay with the puppies until Bruce called with some news.

But, after a few hours of playing with the puppies, Smokes realized it was not all that bad. When the first rush of adrenaline of being freed from the closet finally wore off, most of the puppies fell asleep. A few started barking in hunger, and Dick luckily found some dog food buried at the bottom of a broom closet. When asked why he had dog food and no dog, Dick mumbled something about “throwing Jason a dog birthday party to fuck with him” which had sent Smokes into a ten-minute laughing fit. 

Most of the puppies were still sleeping, but a few of them - namely Dash - had stirred awake and were eager to play with Dick and Smokes. Dick was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, eagerly rubbing bellies and laughing when the twin Miniature Schnauzers leaped onto his lap to lick his face, while Smokes sat in front of him, playing with the ever-so-energetic Dash.

Dick was looking at her with those eyes again, the eyes that said so much yet so little, the eyes that betrayed something she was terrified of facing. She was doing her best to ignore the pit in her stomach when he finally spoke up. “Looks like Dash quite likes you.”

She glanced at him and found him smiling brightly, that grin that made her dizzy sometimes, and quickly returned her attention to Dash, who was fervently demanding a belly rub. “Indeed. This little troublemaker just won’t calm down, huh?”

Dick laughed. “Is it bad I kind of want to keep them all?”

“No, I feel the same way. Though I think we already have our hands full with Tim’s underwear littering the place. If we have to start cleaning up dog poo and take them all out for walks, we’ll go insane.”

He chuckled again, picking up a Border Collie and placing it in his lap. “You’re probably right. But when they look at me with their big puppy eyes, I can’t help but want to keep them.”

A comfortable silence settled between them and Smokes dared another glance at Dick. The man was wholly concentrated on rubbing the Border Collie’s ears, peppering kisses on its small nose. His eyes crinkled in delight, and the scene was comically beautiful. Dick, she realized, was beautiful. She’d never seen him look so at peace, so happy, and the sight warmed her heart.

She sighed, returning to her task of rubbing Dash’s belly. A Dachshund skipped towards her, fighting with Dash for a place in her lap, and she couldn’t help but smile at the two puppies fighting for her affection.

It was now late in the afternoon, and the sun was slowly starting to set on the horizon. A warm orange light filled the Nest, softly lighting Dick’s figure, which made him look even more ethereal than before.

This was it, she realized. The moment she’d been waiting for. She’d never felt so at peace, so calm, in almost two years. And maybe… maybe bringing this up would shatter that precarious balance she’d finally created for herself in Gotham. But if she didn’t say it now, she’d never find the courage to say it again.

She inhaled sharply, focusing on Dash’s soft eyes and ears. “You know, when I lived in Oxford I always wanted to adopt a dog.”

Though she didn’t raise her eyes to watch him, Smokes didn’t miss the way Dick’s entire body stilled at the mention of Oxford. It took what felt like endless minutes for him to finally reply. “Oh?”

She hummed in response, rubbing Dash’s ears to avoid looking up at him. “I had this vision that I was going to adopt 5 dogs and travel the world with them. Like Robin in How I Met Your Mother, y’know?”

“I see the vision.” He replied, and though she still didn’t dare look at him, she could feel his smile.

“It was an enticing idea. My parents told me I was insane, and they were right. I was in the lab day and night, during my PhD and even after. Especially after. I would have never had the time to take care of 5 dogs.” Her voice quivered at the mention of her beloved lab, the place where she’d felt so much joy and sorrow, but she somehow found the strength to press on. “Besides, my apartment was tiny. Not sure where I was planning to keep all those dogs.”

Tense silence fell upon the room as she waited for Dick to speak. To ask the fatal question. To finally tell him the truth about what had happened that night.

But after a few minutes, Dick was still as quiet as ever. She dared a peek at him and found him pointedly petting a Corgi, shoulders tense and lips pressed into a thin line. She blinked, not quite understanding what was going on. Why wasn’t he asking her the question?

Oh God. She realized with a start. He’s not going to ask. He’s not going to ask me what happened.

Her heart dropped in her chest, and she struggled to breathe. Why would he, after all? Who could blame him, for keeping quiet and not asking, when she’d turned him down time and time again? Dick had tried so many times to get her to open up, to help her out; and he’d been met with refusal every time. How self-centered was she, to expect him to ask again when she’d locked him out so thoroughly?

Smokes inhaled again, not knowing what to do. Maybe she should just drop it. Let this go and keep it in like she’d done until then. Dick didn’t want to talk about this, to be burdened with this and-

No. That’s not true. Dick cared about her. He’d proven this at every turn, had shown up for her at every turn; and when he couldn’t, he’d made sure she was taken care of regardless. Dick cared. And honesty was the least this kind, selfless, generous man deserved.

She could barely feel her hands as she continued to pet Dash, ears ringing as she worked up the courage to carry on. She would do this. She had to.

“You can ask, you know.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. Or maybe she just couldn’t hear herself amid the fear overtaking her every sense. She wasn’t sure.

Dick went utterly still. She swallowed and managed to look up at him. His blue eyes were burning into hers, trying to glimpse a piece of her soul she had yet to share with him. A piece she was about to rip out and present to him, in hopes he would accept it.

“Ask what?” He replied, voice nearly as breathless as hers.

She swallowed again. This was it. There was no turning back now. “Ask what happened in Oxford.”

Dick blinked. Once. Twice. His hands stilled atop the Corgi he was cuddling, and the puppy whined in protest. But Dick was paying no attention to the small creature in his lap.

No, his whole, undivided attention was on her.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right words to continue. Smokes waited impatiently for his response. Hoped he wouldn’t shut her out after everything she’d put him through.

“I can?” He asked cautiously, looking as if he still didn’t quite believe what she was saying.

She nodded in response, unable to summon her voice to say anything else.

Dick tensed again, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down nervously. He had to breathe in and out a few times before he managed to ask her the infamous question.

“What happened in Oxford, Smokes?”

Smokes took a deep, long breath. Closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to find the courage to tell him the truth and finally close this chapter of her life.

So long, Oxford. She thought with a mixture of sadness and relief.

And thus Smokes opened her mouth to tell Dick the truth. 

The truth about Oxford.

Chapter Text

Long ago, when Smokes wasn’t Smokes, glorified personal assistant to Dick Grayson and amateur private investigator, she was naught but a mere girl with a dream: physics. It was a family legacy, yet the young girl did not feel pressured by the achievements of her father and grandfather. She was barely five years old when she started telling everyone who would listen that one day she would study physics, just like her dad.

For nearly 26 years, she never stopped being the hopeful, somewhat naive little girl she’d once been, with a big dream, sparkling eyes, unwavering determination, and neverending ambition.

It was only when she met Cole Wilkins that her dreams shattered into a million pieces.

“What happened in Oxford, Smokes?” 

She could hear Dick’s voice echo in the room, above the ringing in her ears and the panic threatening to seep into her bones. But she was stronger than that. She’d decided she would tell him, and she would see it through.

Her fingers shook slightly as she petted Dash’s fluffy ears, breathing in and out and willing her trembling body to calm down. Even the troublemaker puppy must have sensed her discomfort, for he went very quiet and started licking her hands in what she assumed to be reassurance.

She needed to start somewhere. And she knew it all came down to one person: him .

“I…” She started, clamping her mouth shut when she realized she didn’t actually know where her sentence was going. Dick was still as a statue in front of her, expecting her to break down and change her mind any second. But she wouldn’t give up, not this time. She opened her mouth to try again. “Have you ever heard the name Cole Wilkins?”

She was nearly 20 years old when she first met Cole Wilkins. She was still a restless, trusting undergraduate student at the Sorbonne, in Paris, and she’d been ever so eager to present her project on advanced gravitational waves at the yearly science fair. She could still remember her happiness every time anyone stopped long enough to listen to her explanations, to watch as she presented her results and drew conclusions.

She’d just finished excitedly exposing her research to a group of senior biologists when Cole Wilkins walked up to her stand. She, of course, instantly knew who he was. Anybody who aspired to become a physicist knew of the disarmingly charming, young professor who had recently swept the field and won a Nobel Prize.

Cole Wilkins had listened to her presentation, and he was impressed. Not just with her project, he told her with a charismatic smile, but with her. And to an ambitious, keen undergraduate student, there were no better words to hear than that. He gave her his business card, inquiring if she was planning to apply to the quantum physics master’s program he was teaching at Oxford. He made her promise she would, giving her his word that he would oversee her thesis if she did.

She had never heard better words. When Cole Wilkins finally left her stand, Cora and Ember rushed to her side, not quite understanding what had just happened, but knowing she’d just made a massive breakthrough. The three girls started jumping happily together, celebrating her success.

She finished her undergraduate degree at the Sorbonne and, as promised, moved to Oxford for her master’s degree. Her professors, Elena and Ali, were sad to see her go but understood that working with Cole Wilkins was an opportunity like no other.

Thus she set off for Oxford, heart still filled with childlike dreams and hopes.

That was where it all went wrong.

Smokes dared a peek at the man sitting in front of her, and wasn’t surprised by the pure confusion coating his features. Whatever he’d expected, this was not it. She watched as he racked his brain for a few seconds, trying to figure out where he’d heard the name before.

“Maybe.” He relented eventually, blue eyes burning into hers. She had to tear her gaze away, unable to withstand his compassion. “He won a Nobel prize a while back, didn’t he?

She hummed in agreement. “Yeah. 2016 Physics Nobel Prize. He’s arguably the smartest physicist in the field right now. He was also my thesis professor, and I worked in his research lab when I finished my PhD.”

The room went quiet. Most of the puppies were still sleeping, save for Dash who’d grown oddly quiet in her lap, and a Pitbull who was adamant about Dick scratching her ears. But the man wasn’t paying attention to the puppy begging for his attention in his lap. No, his entire attention was focused on her, with an intensity Smokes had never experienced before.

He was starting to put the pieces together, she was sure of it. She couldn’t stand to look him in the face, scared that he’d read the truth on her features. Terrified that he’d never look at her the same way, never treat her the same.

She prayed to any and all gods that Dick would never stop looking at her with those eyes filled with longing and that other feeling she was desperate to bury and hide in the depths of her soul.

“Oh?” He eventually spoke quietly, encouraging her to continue.

Smokes swallowed before continuing her tale. “It was every graduate’s dream, working in the lab of a Nobel Prize winner. And when he agreed to oversee my thesis and offered me a job I was so excited. It felt like all my hard work had finally paid off.”

That much was true. The first few years working with Cole Wilkins had been nothing short of her wildest dreams. Only a few select students had the honor of receiving Dr. Wilkins’ guidance to write their thesis, and her chest swelled with pride every time she spoke his name. Cole Wilkins was a particularly affectionate professor, one of the few who truly cared about his students and knew all of their names by heart. He not only offered scientific guidance and expertise, but also life advice and friendship. He was adored by all, both staff and students, and his reputation was immaculate.

She completed her master’s degree with honors, graduating as valedictorian and practically weeping with joy when Dr. Wilkins offered to oversee her PhD thesis yet again. She started researching quantum sensing, in hopes of one day joining his lab, and Dr. Wilkins was there for her every step of the way. 

He would often invite her and his other PhD students to have dinner at his house, with his wife and family. He made them all feel at home, her more than the others, for she’d never quite felt like she fit in, always too busy gushing about physics to people who couldn’t care less. She still remembered those nights spent with Adam, Rebecka, and all the other students who received the monthly invitations.

Those fond memories would be forever tainted by what happened next.

“And then?” Dick eventually asked, voice smaller by the second, sensing the pin was about to drop.

Smokes swallowed again, attempting to ground herself. Dash was silently licking her hands, trying to appease her as best as he could. She inhaled sharply and shut her eyes, willing the wetness behind her lashes to disappear. If she started crying now, she’d never reach the end of her story.

“And then…” She started, ignoring the panic flaring in her chest, her heart pounding in her ribcage, her sweaty palms as she absentmindedly scratched Dash’s ears. “Everything was great at first. He was kind and incredibly charismatic. A natural-born leader. Everybody loved him. It was hard not to.”

Truly, nobody had any reason to suspect Cole Wilkins. He was the legend of the department, revered by any and all, especially the dean’s office. Thanks to him overseeing her PhD thesis, she finished her research in a record time of two years. Once she graduated, he offered her a job in his research laboratory, just as she’d hoped - no, just as she’d prayed.

Working alongside Cole Wilkins was more than her dream job: it was her life’s work. She enjoyed every single late night spent in the lab, every lunch break cut short because Rebecka had accidentally blown up something, every lesson with the senior researchers, and every guilty giggle when they stole Dr. Wilkins’ special yogurt coffee.

She worked in that laboratory for a mere 9 months, and up until April 26th 2025, she would have told everyone it was like a dream come true.

But on that fatal night, everything came crashing down.

“And the research we did… it was incredible. I loved every second of it. Then…” Her mouth went dry at that, at what she was about to say. Something that, up until now, she’d never been able to speak out loud. “One night, I was working late at the lab.” Her voice went down an octave, eyes watering despite her furious blinking. “I often stayed late to finish experiments and clean up. Cole was there too. It was just the two of us, and he… he… he tried to…”

It was an unusual Saturday night. She, Rebecka, and Adam had been called into the laboratory because one of their quantum sensors finally seemed to function, and the three of them had spent the whole day running tests and experimenting with the little machine.

It was nearly 10 PM when it happened. Both Rebecka and Adam had gone home, tired after an intense day of work, but she’d stayed behind to clean up as she often did. She despised leaving the laboratory in a mess, and she knew the senior researchers appreciated her thoughtfulness when she cleaned up even their clutter.

She was in the middle of wiping Dr. Dolby’s desk clean when Dr. Wilkins walked into the room, armed with his usual charming smile and perfectly ironed lab coat.

“Dr. Wilkins!” She exclaimed happily, giving him a small wave as he approached her. “I didn’t expect you to be here - actually, I didn’t expect anyone to be here so late.”

“Please, we’ve gone over this already, call me Cole.” He smiled sincerely, eyes crinkled with delight. “You often stay late, don’t you?”

“Oh, I suppose I do. I just… I don’t like leaving the lab in shambles, that’s all.” She decided not to mention that Rebecka blew up one of their reactors at least twice a week, and that it always took them ages to scrape the bloody machine clean.

“Yes, I can see that. But still, today is a Saturday, shouldn’t you be out with your friends? What are you doing here?”

Her entire being beamed at the question, for nothing made her happier than sharing her work with others. “Oh, our quantum sensor finally works! We got the call this morning, so we’ve been running tests all day! I can show you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that.” He smiled, though it wasn’t one of his usual smiles. No, this one was odd, and his gaze was filled with something else. But her brain barely registered this thought, too excited to present her findings.

She eagerly skipped to her desk where the quantum sensor was still displayed in all its glory. Some notebooks, random papers filled with notes, and colorful pens were strewn across the table, and she quickly pushed them aside to make space for her demonstrations.

“So, this is prototype number 39, the one Rebecka, Adam, and I have been working on for the last month.” She explained, pushing some buttons on the machine to turn it on. She was too engrossed in her task to feel Cole approaching, standing behind her at an alarmingly decreasing distance. “We didn’t think it would work but-”

The rest of the sentence died down in her throat when his hands landed on her hips, rubbing smooth circles and snaking toward her front. She blinked in confusion, suddenly painfully aware of the lack of distance between their bodies. He pressed her body against hers, snugly holding onto her waist as he laid his head onto her shoulder and heaved a sigh of contentment.

She froze, her heart rapidly beating in her chest while her brain tried to catch up with the situation. “Dr. Wilkins?” She squeaked after a few uncomfortable beats of silence, not knowing what else to say.

“I told you to call me Cole, sweetie.” He murmured softly, pulling her further into him and gently nipping on her earlobe.

“C-cole, I… what… w-what are you…” She attempted, body trembling with ever-growing fear. But some part of her, some fucked up, naive part of her still believed this was one gross misunderstanding.

She didn’t realize the gravity of the situation until she felt his hard length pushing against her.

Smokes was unable to finish her sentence. She bit the inside of her cheek, closing her eyes again and hoping she could simply wish the tears away. It was all rushing back to her, more vividly than ever before, and she wasn’t sure she could live it all again.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Dick’s gentle voice broke the silence, bringing her back to reality.

She dared a glance at him, surprised by the unfiltered sorrow and tenderness she could read in his gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, fist clenched in his lap, and she could tell he was in pain. For her.

He was giving her a way out. She could just end it there, block the memories out like she always did and bury it back into her soul, hoping it would eventually disappear forever.

Except it wouldn’t, because she’d been furiously and desperately trying to forget the wretched night for the better part of the past two years, and yet she sometimes still woke up in cold sweat, feeling his dirty hands all over her, rubbing herself frantically with soap under the shower’s burning water in hopes of washing it all away.

She always failed.

No. Not today. She was going to tell Dick. She wanted to tell him, to share this burden with someone else. Someone she trusted with her life. Dick. There was no one but him.

“No.” She drawled slowly, eyes focused on Dash’s fur. “No.” She repeated again, for good measure, ignoring the way her heart thrashed wildly in her chest. She was stronger than this. She would do it, no matter the cost. “I want to, I’m just trying to find the right words. He… He propositioned me. And when I turned him down, he… he didn’t take it well. And so he… he tried to force himself on me.”

She pushed him away with every ounce of her strength, putting as much distance as possible between them. She turned around to face him, stumbling backward with alarm and hitting her back against the edge of her desk.

“Dr. Wilkins! What are you doing?” She cried, outraged, eyes darting all over the laboratory in a panic. Fear settled deep into her bones when she realized the laboratory was completely empty, save for the two of them.

“Please, I thought we went through this. You can call me Cole.” He smiled, but it didn’t have that charming lilt anymore. No, not when his eyes were hooded with lust. “You know exactly what I was doing, sweetie.”

Her cheeks burned bright red. “I- why would you ever think that- Dr. Wilk-, I mean, Cole, I think you’ve gravely misunderstood-”

“Have I?” He interrupted with authority, quieting her down with a simple flick of his hand. “I don’t think I have. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Pretend?” Her voice felt hoarse, like she’d been screaming for years on end.

“Oh, sweetie, you think I haven’t noticed? You’re always here cleaning up so late, and it’s always just the two of us. I was a fool not to realize this sooner.”

She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat, willing her trembling muscles to settle down. Maybe if she just explained the situation to him, he would understand his obvious mistake and they could simply forget about this incident.

“Cole, you’re mistaken, I… I’m genuinely just cleaning, I hadn’t realized it was just the two of us. Truly, I wasn’t… I would never do that to your wife.”

But her words did nothing to appease the hunger swirling in his eyes; if anything, they only increased it, for a smirk coated his lips in no time.

“There’s no need to pretend anymore. You have no reason to worry about my wife, she will never know.” He started walking towards her with slow, tantalizing steps. She wanted to escape, to step away from him, but when she tried to back up she was met with the unforgiving marble of her desk.

“Cole, please, I- I genuinely did not mean anything by staying late. I wasn’t trying to… to seduce you, or anything I just-” The words died in her throat when he finally stopped in front of her, barely an inch away from her mouth, and brought a hand to her face.

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, cradling her cheek with his calloused fingers. She was going to puke all over his lab coat. “I am not a man you can deny, sweetheart.”

“I- I don’t mean to offend you,” She tried again, feeling her eyes prickling with tears. “You are an attractive man, but I just… I’m not… I’m not interested in you… like that.”

Those last words were barely a squeak, her confidence in being able to drive him away dying down with each passing second. His face hardened, and a scowl she’d never seen before took over.

“I don’t think I’ve made myself clear, then. I am not a man you can say no to. We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. That’s as much choice as you get in this matter.”

Her eyes widened in horror, the reality of what was about to happen finally sinking in. Her eyes darted to the door across the room. Maybe she could make a run for it. She just had to wait for the right moment and fling herself down the stairs, and she would be fine. She could think about what to do next later.

“So?” Cole’s voice was laced with impatience, fingers twitching at his sides. He was looking at her like she was his next meal, and it took herculean effort to swallow down her bile. “Which will it be?”

She took the opportunity to shove him back violently, pushing herself off the table and making a desperate run for the door. She took an embarrassing grand total of two steps before she felt two hands grip her hair and yank her back forcefully, causing her to scream.

Cole’s grip was ruthless and unforgiving as he flung her against the desk, knocking the air out of her lungs, the marble painfully digging into her hips. She started thrashing wildly when she felt him position herself behind her, pushing his clothed hard-on against her rear side.

But despite her protests and her slowly growing tears, nothing could stop Cole Wilkins from getting what he wanted. He placed his legs in between hers, pushing her legs apart and open for him and virtually immobilizing her. She tried to grab onto a pen on her desk, anything that could help her defend herself, but Cole violently wiped the items on the floor. He grabbed her hands and held them tightly against her back with one hand, using his other to push her head against the table.

“P-please,” she sobbed, tear-streaked face pushed painfully against the marble. “Please, I-”

“I’ve had enough of this, you little cunt.” He bent forward to whisper in her ear, reveling in the way she squirmed under him. “You want this just as much as I do, and even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter much.”

“No, please I- I w-won’t tell anyone, I’ll take it to my grave, just… let me go, please.” Her vision was fuzzy from the tears spilling out, and her senses were all honed on his hard length pushing against hers. Terror took over her body, and her attempts to break free turned more desperate. But his vicious, bruising grip held her down with force, giving her no chance to escape.

“You’re just a cheap little whore, aren’t you? And you know what happens to whores?”

“Let me go, please I- l-let me go. Stop.” She whimpered, wiggling her hands in a last-ditch effort.

Cole smiled against her ear, ignoring her pleas. “Why don’t I show you?”

She cried convulsively when he yanked down her skirt, then her tights and underwear, weeping strings of hopeless “Please let me go”s and “Please, stop, stop, stop, please”. Horror gripped her when she felt the cool air against her exposed cunt.

But that was nothing, compared to the sheer terror of hearing the sound of Cole undoing his pants’ zipper, dragging down his own underwear with a lust-filled sigh.

When she felt his bare length brushing against her ass, she started to scream.

“Smokes…” Dick spoke faintly, and she couldn’t stand the pain in his voice, the heart-wrenching lilt to his voice.

She focused on Dash, not daring to raise her gaze and see the pity that was probably coating his features by now. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand it. She needed to move on from this part of the story.

“I was very lucky.” She added quickly, ignoring Dick’s sharp exhale. “The janitor closing up that night, Eddie, was the owner of a retired K9 dog. When the dog heard me screaming, he rushed to us and bit Cole’s leg. Otherwise…” She shuddered, shaking her head slowly. It was all crashing back into her, like a wave to the shore, and it was alarmingly overwhelming. “I don’t know what would have happened. I don’t like to think about it.”

Her screams and pleas fell on deaf ears, and Cole Wilkins bent his body on top of hers again. “Now, let’s see what this little cunt is capable of.” He chuckled when she squirmed again, thrashing wildly in his vicious grip. “So bratty. ‘Wonder if you’ll still be this tiresome once I’ve fucked a baby into you. You’ll learn your place then.”

The next few seconds were a total blur. She screamed when she felt his hands brushing her folds, wanting to part her for his enjoyment; she heard the sound of familiar footsteps approaching, her brain barely registering them amid the chaos and fear; and just as Cole Wilkins was about to lay his first hand on her, a bark erupted in the room and he suddenly bellowed out in pain.

Cole Wilkins stumbled back, screaming and cursing in pain, while she collapsed on the floor, unable to keep herself up. She turned around to see what had happened, crawling backward and weeping, unable to do anything except watch the scene and sob.

Thunder, Eddie’s K9, had his jaw buried in Cole’s leg, growling at the man and refusing to let go. Cole continued cursing and bellowing, throwing things at the dog and commanding him to let him go.

When it became clear the dog wouldn’t budge, Cole Wilkins turned to face her, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “This is all your fault, you cunt! You’re nothing but a cheap whore! Your future here is over!”

Eddie arrived soon after, panting, and took in the scene with horror.