#the restaurant won’t even be open tomorrow anyway so that point is not moot

[differentjokes4differentfolks]

WTFIT Chap 6

A.N. Heyo! Here’s the next chapter, as promised :) plenty of fluff and stuff, also Tim Drake! Anyways, enjoy!

AO3 Link

“Bruuuce, c’mon! You gotta let me help you!”

“I think he should too. If it’s as bad as I think it is he’d be useful.”

“No.”

“Master Bruce, if I may-”

“No, Alfred.” Bruce eyes the men in front of him, all three pleading Tim’s case in assisting Bruce. It’s too early for this, he hasn’t even gone to bed yet.

Dick had waited up for him to discuss the lack of activity in the East End, which makes Bruce realise they’re starting to cover up more of their tracks. They feel threatened, which is both good and bad for Bruce. It’ll make them harder to find, but at least they’re scared. Dick had offered to visit the East End again tonight, which Bruce readily agreed to, eager to head off to bed, though he didn’t want to admit it. Then Tim had shown up. Apparently they weren’t quiet enough, and the young man was still wide awake, wanting to talk.

Tim now looks at him pleadingly. “Please let me come along, I swear I’ll be careful!”

“Tim, it’s too dangerous.” Bruce feels a headache coming on, he hasn’t even gotten over the event with Joker earlier. Now’s no time to think about that. He rubs at his temple, eye twitching.

“I know I can help you, Bruce. Give me a chance! What have you been training me for, if not to be with you during times like these?”

Dick plants a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “He’s got a point, you know. I’ve been going on these missions since I was younger than him, and look at me now.” He grins.

Bruce fixes him with a withering glance. “Headstrong and reckless to a fault?”

“Ouch, Bruce.” Dick raises an eyebrow. Alfred coughs to cover a laugh, Bruce just picking up on it. When Alfred realises he’s been found out he simply lifts a shoulder.

“Sorry sir, I had a tickle in my throat.”

“Right… Sorry. Look, can we talk about this later, when I’ve gotten at least two hours of rest?” It takes all his strength at that moment not to slump against his bedroom door, much as he hates to admit it. He’d love to be able to run just on solar power like a certain someone he knows...

“Ah, I forgot it was only four in the morning!” Tim suddenly looks sheepish. “My bad.”

“Yeah well, if you don’t get any sleep I’m definitely not taking you,” Bruce pointed out, enjoying the panicked expression Tim wears.

“See you guys later!” the boy disappears into his room. Bruce can’t help the half-smile on his face, tired though he is.

Dick yawns loudly. “I’d better get some rest too.” Stretching his arms up over his head he ambles over to his own room across the hall, leaving Bruce and Alfred alone in the dark hall. The butler stands at attention, Bruce peeling off pieces of his armor.

“I’ll get these tomorrow. I know you’ve been up as long as I have.”

“Someone has to look out for you, sir. But I daresay if someone had told me twenty years ago I’d be pulling all-nighters helping my ward hunt down criminals, I’d have laughed in their face.” Bruce has a hard time imagining Alfred laughing in anyone’s face, smiling at the thought.

“Get some rest, Alfred. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Meaning mid-day?”

“You know me well.” Bruce opens the door to his room, Alfred walking away, his steps sounding as he heads downstairs. Bruce doesn’t bother with the lights, falling into his bed the moment the last piece of his armor is off. His eyes close within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

He ends up waking up a little past one. Thank god he doesn’t have a meeting today. He rolls over in bed to adjust to the lighting, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He breathes deeply, savoring the sweet moments of relaxation. Wrapping himself up in his blankets, he lies back on his pillows, remembering last night.

That’s Dent and Bane down for the count. A few more villains to go. It does little to reassure Bruce, Penguin is still at large, but it’s something. And he isn’t sure if Sionis is just supplying or if he’s actively helping, so that’s something to consider. Oh, boy. His peace is shattered. Might as well get up.

A piece of paper catches his eye as he sits up. It’s lying around near his armor, which still lies strewn haphazardly. He picks it up.

In case you need to get a hold of me. xoxo

A phone number is scrawled underneath in Joker’s spidery handwriting. Bruce puts it back into a compartment in his gauntlet, whether or not he’ll use it is another situation entirely. He didn’t think Joker was a phone person. He thinks back on that phrase. It sounds strange in his head, causing him to question when his thinking about Joker became so casual.

Everyone is awake and in the kitchen when he finally decides to eat. He walks in and immediately Tim perks up. Dick sips his coffee, looking at him from the top of the rim. Alfred busies himself with food. Bruce isn’t sure if he’s preparing breakfast or lunch at this point. He knows they’re expecting an answer, one Bruce hasn’t thought of enough, and one he doesn’t want to make. He sits at the table and Alfred sets a plate in front of him. Lunch. Still no one says a word, and Bruce finally caves under the pressure. He’s so soft when he isn’t being Batman. Or maybe he just can’t say ‘no’ when he sees Tim’s puppy eyes. An eighteen year old should not have that ability.

“Fine, you can help.” Tim gives a whoop of celebration, but Bruce holds up a hand. “But you listen to everything I say, no exceptions. That means if I say something is too dangerous and you need to stay back, you stay back.”

“Sure! Thanks, Bruce!” The young man wears a grin that could rival the Joker’s at this moment. Dick’s smile is only slightly smaller. And Bruce can feel smugness radiating off Alfred, though the old man would never admit it.

“Don’t make me regret my choice, Tim.”

“‘Course not! You won’t even know I’m there.”

“Hmm.” Bruce drinks the coffee in front of him, a little too sweet but not unbearable. Dick must’ve made it. If anything has too much sugar, it’s Grayson that’s to blame.

“What are your plans for today, Master Bruce?” Alfred asks, leaning against the counter.

Bruce thinks. “Honestly? I don’t have any. Why?”

Alfred brings out a newspaper. Old fashioned maybe, but Alfred refuses to read the news online. “There’s a new restaurant opening over in the Diamond District, I thought maybe you’d want to visit, if you had no other pressing matters to attend to.”

Bruce leans back in his seat. “I could go check it out, it’ll give the place publicity at least. Dick, Tim, do you want to go?”

Dick shakes his head. “I’m gonna spend the day with Barb. There’s this thing she wants me to see, some machine maybe. She won’t tell me.” He stands. “I better get ready, she wants me at her place in an hour.” He walks down the hall, whistling a cheery tune as he goes. It sounds vaguely like ‘My Girl’.

Tim rolls his eyes at the older man before frowning thoughtfully. “I have homework. Which reminds me...do I get tomorrow off of school? You know, since I’ll be helping you save the city...”

Bruce purses his lips. “It’s your grade. You think you can miss a day of college classes?”

Tim nods. “I’ll have someone record the lectures. And I’ll email my teachers, it’s all good.” He stands from the table. “Thanks for lunch, Alfred.”

“Anytime, Master Tim.” Alfred doesn’t bother lifting his head from the newspaper, raising a hand to acknowledge the boy. Bruce tucks into his lunch, suddenly ravenous. The last thing he ate was...probably that cheesecake, if he’s honest. Which brings back the topic of Joker.

Why does that man make him feel so unhinged? He’s a villain, and a guy.

Actually...when has he ever been truly interested in a woman? Really. The last person was Selina, and even then something wasn’t right between the two of them. It wasn’t her, if he was going to date anyone it would’ve been her, and he did for a while. There was something that wouldn’t let him get closer to her though, something she noticed but he didn’t. But with Joker...no. He’s not going to finish that sentence. Well, whatever Bruce’s sexuality may be, Joker is a moot point when it comes to who he loves. A madman, albeit an intelligent, charismatic, humorous one… He loses himself in his train of thought. Where was I going with this? Only when Bruce hears Alfred calling his name does he snap out of it, focusing on the man.

“What is it, Alfred?”

“You’re in a daze again. You know I worry about you when you’re like this. What’s wrong?”

Bruce’s forehead scrunches up, seeing the concern on Alfred’s face.

“I’m alright, just thinking.”

“Your face is red, did you know that?” Bruce lifts a hand to his face, feeling it burn his hand. Shit. “Are you sure you aren’t coming down with a fever?”

Oh. That makes him feel guilty, worrying about a clown when his butler worries about his health.

“It’s nothing, really.” Bruce barely manages to get out the sentence without a stammer.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.” Bruce looks down at his plate, unable to look Alfred in the eye.

Alfred remains impassive; Bruce doesn’t know how to feel about that, but he shrugs it off.

“It’s really nothing to worry about. And if it is a fever, it’s nothing I haven’t gone through before. I’ve already rested.” He’s eager to get away from the kitchen at this point. “You know, I think I’ll drive myself to the new restaurant, take the long way and sightsee a bit.”

Alfred smiles, though his eyes reveal concern. “Have fun, sir. Don’t overexert yourself too much.”

“I won’t.” Bruce puts his plate in the sink, rinsing his hands off, the cold water freezing his thoughts.

*

The car ride is long, a casual drive, good music making an appearance on the radio for once. Bruce hums along to some of them, singing out some of the lyrics quietly. At one point he hears an older song, and while it’s familiar Bruce can’t quite remember how he knows it. He doesn’t listen to this kind of music often, a sort of doo-wop tune, a fifties song… the answer comes out of nowhere. He hasn’t heard it as Bruce Wayne, but as Batman. During one of Joker’s schemes. The clown was singing along while causing mass destruction, swinging a cane around cheerfully and dancing around with one of the hostages he’d captured. The hostages face was molded into a mask of pure terror, Joker’s one of sheer joy. Why can he see that in his head so clearly? He’s relieved at having figured it out but frazzled that every little thing seems to remind him of Joker. Still, he can’t bring himself to switch the station. So he keeps driving.

Once he's truly in the city he heads to the Diamond District, where Gotham’s richest hang about and enjoy themselves. Rarely does he see prices in any place drop below 500 dollars. Even food is at least fifty. Mere pennies to the rich, but even a middle class man in this district is a rare find.

There’s a valet he gives the car keys to who stands under a ritzy, bold sign. It stands out, not necessarily in a bad way. He should’ve looked into what the restaurant’s theme was. A 20’s themed restaurant is creative, he guesses, but how is it different from any other restaurant in Gotham? The gangs are all there, it’s like walking into a gangster movie. He guesses the upper class probably hasn’t visited those places, but who knows? At least he’s wearing a suit, though nothing would convince him to wear a fedora.

There’s a haze of smoke in the air, enough to make him want to choke. Waitresses are dressed like flappers, guests in 1920’s finery. Judging by the people in the building it’s going to be expensive. Of course it is.

A hostess seats him at an empty two-seater table, not fussing about whether or not he has a reservation. He watches the spectacle on a stage in the center of the room, a woman crooning along to jazz. His head is propped on his hand, nose crinkling at the smoke. Laughter rings through the air, people dancing, instruments wailing. This probably isn’t a place he would frequent. Too lively. It’s only two o’clock and people are drinking fit to burst. Maybe the food’s better…

It is. The hors d'oeuvres are to die for, a lemonade he orders just tart enough. The main meal is just as good, though Bruce tries not to stuff himself.

Time passes and people start to glance over at him, maybe he should’ve brought someone with him. To not stick out like a sore thumb among other socialites. But it’d been spur of the moment, and he didn’t really want to bring anyone this time, he doesn't have the patience for small talk at the moment...

“Bruce Wayne?” A voice alerts Bruce, glancing up he sees two women standing next to his table, one blonde wearing a red and black dress, one ginger and clad in green. He recognizes them almost immediately, starting with the blonde’s less pronounced Boston accent. Harley and Ivy. Or Harleen and Pamela, when the duo isn’t wreaking havoc on the city.

“Hello,” he says with a smile, though he screams internally. Two villains he should be taking in, if not for the fact he’s wearing a wool suit instead of kevlar armor. Harley brightens up.

“Can we sit here?” Not waiting for an answer, she drags a chair from another table, Ivy sitting down meanwhile. She raises a brow at Bruce, the man doing all he can to not frown back. “This restaurant is awesome, huh? I can’t believe they hadn't come up with it earlier!” Bruce notices she takes care not rubbing at her face, her makeup the only thing making her a bit more inconspicuous. She'd stand out if she was still bleached white, though her personality is a far cry from the quiet psychologist at Arkham. Her eyes gleam as she takes a drink from a nearby table, taking a sip and recoiling at the taste.

“It’s definitely interesting,” Bruce comments, looking around. Ivy frowns.

“There’s too much smoke in the air. It smells funny.” Harley wraps an arm around her.

“We don’t have to stay too long, I just wanted to check the place out, Red.” She presses a kiss to Ivy’s forehead. Then she turns her gaze on Bruce. “I don’t see too many paps around you at the moment. Usually they're like flies around honey with you.”

Bruce shrugs. “They’ll probably get the jump on me outside.” Harley giggles.

“That’s the problem with being rich, isn’t it? Oh, by the way, I’m Harleen Quinzel. I used to work over at Arkham. You're helping fund it, right?” She holds out her hand, shaking Bruce’s hand firmly. “This is my girl Pamela.”

“Isley,” Ivy adds, not bothering with a handshake. Bruce nods. The woman turns to the small vase of flowers on the table, touching one of the petals softly, expression less than happy. Bruce can tell she’d love to make them healthier, change the water in the vases, or maybe just beat up whoever cut them and placed them here.

“Nice to meet you.” Though I already know most everything about you two.

“You too. It’s not everyday you meet up with a billionaire, am I right?” This side of Harley is a bit more subdued, in tone and language. Bruce almost wants to laugh at how different she looks but how obvious she is with the color scheme of her dress. She tugs at the stray hair fallen from her bun, eyes on the stage, people dancing with the music. “I wanna go dance. Whaddaya say Iv- Pam?” Her eyes flit to Bruce, who tries to seem not to have noticed.

“Can we leave after?”

“‘Course! Nice talkin’ to ya, Mr. Wayne! Ooh, wait. You mind taking a picture with me?” Bruce obliges, forcing the corners of his mouth to curl upwards as Harley snaps a pic with her phone. “Nice! Well, g’bye!” Harley takes Ivy’s hand, pulling the woman to the dance floor. Bruce waves, deciding to leave as well. There’s no point in staying any longer. His mind is back on his work already. His fingers drum on the table in time with the music, upbeat swing that gets the dance floor roaring with the sound of dancing feet. He didn’t think people knew how to dance to these kinds of songs anymore. Not that everyone is light on their feet. One couple moves in a way that’s more spastic than rhythmical, and another disregard the song completely in order to slow dance. A couple women eye him, and he knows they’re looking for a dance partner. His feet tap to the beat, but he isn't quite sure he wants to join them. He waves but stays where he is, left to his thoughts and to the ever-shifting music.

It’s a wonder he can avoid the chair that flies straight towards him. Blinking out of his reverie, he whips around to see where the table came from. The way is cleared, and he really didn’t know what else he was expecting to see.

Harleen Quinzel stands front and center, a scowl prominent on her face, her fists clenched. Ivy stands to the side, looking slightly charmed, sipping her drink and watching. A man is sprawled on the ground in front of Harley, babbling out incoherent excuses. There’s fire in Harley’s eyes.

“You think it’s cool to just touch people without their consent, huh? You think they want you to lay a fuckin’ hand on them when they pull away?” She points to a young woman a little ways back, tears in her eyes. “She said no. And you kept going. Now, you should apologize to her.” She tilts her chin up, waiting. The man looks less than terrified at being attacked by the slight blonde woman, but Bruce knows better. If she wasn’t in her ‘normal’ get-up, he’d by dead already. The crowd around the scene is deadly silent. Waiting to see what would happen next. Sheepishly the man mumbles out an apology, nursing an already swelling eye. Harley must've punched him. The girl smiles awkwardly but Harley isn’t impressed.

“Louder.”

Clearly the man is angry at being put on the spot, but he raises his voice to spit out a “Sorry” in the general direction of the girl.

“Better. Now get outta here, you ruined the atmosphere.” She nudges him roughly, narrowing her eyes and glaring at him until he’s on the street. Her shoulders hunch over as she sighs, the fight disappearing from her posture. She looks around innocently, suddenly acting more like the meek ex-psychiatrist she used to be. “I’m so sorry this happened, guys! I’ll pay for the damage. Please, carry on!” She smiles brightly, not waiting for the crowd to disperse as she heads back to Ivy, fixing her hair as she goes. Ivy takes her hand, kissing her softly. Harley catches Bruce’s eye as she turns and winks before disappearing back into the crowd. Bruce decides maybe it’d be best if he headed home, but not before he pays for the damage caused. Harley might not have had the best strategy in apprehending the man, but it was effective in helping someone else out, and honestly if he had been in her shoes he would’ve wanted to do the same. He starts to walk out of the restaurant when a hand grips his, and he turns to look into familiar green eyes. He freezes, and Joker grins, pulling Bruce towards him.

“Bruce Wayne, what a surprise.”

“Um. Hi.” A less than eloquent start. In his defense, he hadn’t expected to see the man here. Butterflies form in his stomach, an odd sensation he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Hi,” Joker replies smoothly. “I wondered if I’d catch you before you left.” His suit is a muted but no less stunning blue, his hair light brown, though Bruce has no clue whether it’s a wig or dye. His face is covered in makeup, and like before he looks drastically different without his red lips. Not better, not worse. Just different. “Dance with me?”

Bruce flounders in the question, but he tries to maintain some of his composure. There are so many ways he could say no, his mouth deciding to say the lamest excuse ever. “I don’t know how to dance to this music.”

Joker rolls his eyes. “It’s easy. Just feel the beat, you know?” The beat is suddenly erratic to Bruce, matching his heart rate. There’s a knowing flicker in Joker’s eyes, as though he knows exactly what’s going on, can hear the way Bruce’s heart thuds against his chest.

Bruce is still hesitant. “I was just leaving, really…”

“Nope. You’re not running away. We’re dancing, I know you’re light on your feet.” He closes his eyes, tapping in time to the music. Soft jazz. “Not my favorite style, but it is nice to lose yourself in. They were playing swing music not three minutes ago. Not that I can see you doing that.” He snorts at the thought, Bruce feeling a little offended, even though Joker’s definitely right. The clown wraps his arm around Bruce’s waist, Bruce not knowing whether to stiffen up or comply. “C’mon baby, relax. It’s just a dance. Scared? Used to being the one leading, aren’t you?” Joker snickers. Bruce feels the tips of his ears heat up. Why does he always feel the need to make double entendres?

“How’d you know I’d be here?” He doesn’t think Harley knows who he really is, and he trusts Joker not to tell. The answer ends up being much simpler.

“Harley sent me a message that she just talked to Bruce Wayne. A picture too. It looked nice, you were actually smiling. You can’t blame her for wanting to share; it’s always a big moment when you meet Gotham’s favorite socialite. Well, maybe not for you, I guess.”

Bruce feels a bit more at ease with his explanation. He lets himself be guided around the dance floor, Joker leading him through a few paces, Bruce looking down at their shoes to make sure he doesn't trip. He does vaguely remember Alfred teaching him how to do simple dances like these, though it comes back to him slowly. As they dance he notices that Joker is a bit shorter than him, by at least two inches, having to tilt his chin up the slightest bit to meet Bruce’s eyes. You wouldn’t really know these details during quick melees, and even though he has Joker’s stats on file, he never really visualized it. It’s almost fitting. But...

“Why are you doing this?” he murmurs in the clown’s ear. Joker looks at him with amusement.

“You're gonna have to be more specific than that, darling. Why am I what, dancing?”

“No. I mean…” he lowers his voice to a whisper, not trusting the people next to him, couples who dance too close for comfort. “Whatever this is. Kissing me, flirting with me, dancing with me.”

“Are you confused again? Boy, Eddie’s gonna be out of a job.” Joker’s smile couldn't be any wider at this point. Any wider and he’ll give himself away. “I do it all the time, remember? You know I'm obsessed with you, right?” Bruce nods slowly, that's been clear since day one. “And I'm pretty sure you're at least a little obsessed with me. So why not? Are you just now realising that part of it?” Bruce nods again. “Wow. Have I been on your mind all day?” he coos.

“No.” Yes. “Obsession isn't the same thing as love.” Bruce points out. He regrets the words as the come out of his mouth, glancing around. He can’t believe he just said that. He hadn’t meant to call it love. All that time in the kitchen trying to convince himself it wasn’t just got washed down the drain, and he knows it. Joker seems startled at the wording as well, eyes widening slightly. He receives a couple curious looks from people around him, but other then that they’re just another part of the crowd. He’s right though. You can be obsessed with someone and never truly feel close to them, always putting them up on a pedestal instead of next to you where they should be. He’s done it, along with most of the human race. Bruce doesn’t think he’s in love, at least. Joker only shakes his head, composing himself and giving Bruce a sly smile.

“Don't you think it's halfway to it though? All it takes is a little push in the right direction. And besides, this morning? That was barely even a kiss. I can do better.” His grin is devilish as he waggles his eyebrows, warming Bruce all over. He can’t help but return the smile, Joker’s grin melting into something softer. “Can we just enjoy this, Bruce? It’s back to the usual tonight, you know.”

“I know.” Bruce pulls Joker closer, and the corners of Joker’s eyes crinkle. The song slows into more of a waltz, and they move in smoother paces, Joker resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder, humming along lazily. He lets Bruce lead this one, content to just rest against him. Bruce lets his eyes slip closed and relaxes into the moment.

He’s not in love, but there might be something there, just the tiniest spark that refuses to go out. And for the time being he ignores the warning sirens going off in his head, angrily spouting off why this is such a bad idea, the things Joker’s done, the people he's hurt...

There’s time for guilt later, he decides. He’s lost this round.

“You’re still a psychopath and a criminal,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Joker’s laugh breaks through his thoughts, the sound ending more like a sigh.

“I know. But I don’t really think you mind all that much.”

*

Traffic takes him home a little later than usual, the radio turned off in the car, and Bruce feels like all he’s done today is sleep and eat. And dance. It’s five o’clock by the time he gets home. Dinner in an hour. It’s all downhill from here, finding ways to pass time before heading out. He focuses on the entrance to the batcave. Might as well try some new gadgets he’s started to improve on. There’s a new addition to his batclaw that allows an increase in how much weight it can bear, and an added range to his smoke grenades. There isn’t a whole lot more he can do to these aids, but he has new ideas itching to be made. Tim comes down a bit later.

“I added something to your suit.” Bruce looks at the armor, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. “You can’t see it. And I don’t know if I should keep it a surprise or not, you know?” He grins, hands in his pockets.

“Is it helpful?”

“Yeah, and guess what? It’s bat related! I know you love that,” Tim teases. “Took some time to figure out how to make it the most effective, but you’ll appreciate it, I’m positive.” He fidgets, and Bruce knows the boy is going to give in. “Okay, actually I’m just gonna tell you. I wanna see your reaction. Hold on.” He puts earplugs in, and Bruce wonders just what is about to happen. “There’s a tiny button if you open the compartment in your gauntlet. The right one, it’s all the way in the corner. Click it!”

Bruce presses down on the small button he finds, and a sharp ringing enters the room. It’s strong, but he doesn’t really feel the effect of it. Meanwhile Tim has his hands clapped over his ears, a slight wince on his face. The ringing subsides and Tim bounds over to Bruce.

“What do you think? A piercing whistle to deter your enemies? It doesn’t affect you, I made sure of that, but it packs a punch.” His smile is prideful, and Bruce returns the look.

“This’ll work fine. Especially in groups. Thanks, Tim.”

The young man shrugs. “I thought it’d be useful for tonight. Where are we going, anyway?”

Bruce walks over to the batcomputer, going over the schematics of the next location. “Clock tower. Barbara has the location of the items we need to find and dispose of. The sooner we can fix that, the sooner the city will be safe.”

“Speaking of Barbara, do you think they’ll ever get back together?” Tim wonders.

Bruce’s brow knits in confusion. “They said they’d be better off as just friends.”

“I know, I know. But it’s obvious Dick is still in love with her, he has hearts in his eyes whenever he sees her. Or even talks about her. And Barb, well, she might’ve broken it off, but she’s about as obvious as he is.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth curve up. “Aren’t you perceptive.”

“You’d have to be blind not to see it, Bruce.” Tim makes a face. “Really blind. But it makes sense if you haven’t noticed it, I guess. It took years before you realised you liked Selina. At least, that’s what Dick told me. I’m guessing it’s true.”

“It didn’t take years,” Bruce protests. “Besides, there were more factors that added up to why we took so long. Our professions, for one.”

Tim looks skeptical. “If you say so. Anyways…” Another subject change. “Are you having Jason help out? I don't really know him, but he's teamed up with you a couple times after the incident, right?”

There’s a wave of emotion that overcomes Bruce, sadness and regret. He hasn’t seen his old ward in quite some time. Their last team-up, as Tim had called it, was a while back, at least six months ago. And before that they hadn't seen each other in a year.

“I haven’t called him. I doubt he’d want to help either.” Especially if he finds out who we’re working with. Joker might not have killed Jason, but being beaten within an inch of his life doesn’t exactly set the tone for a friendly team-up.

“I guess. I’d still call him though, just in case.” Bruce only hums in response, knowing he won’t take Tim’s advice. He’s put Jason through enough.

Dinner is just him, Tim, and Alfred. Dick is still at Barbara’s, and the man claims he’ll just suit up over there. He’d brought his suit with him, apparently.

The food placed in front of Bruce is rich and flavorful, but he doesn’t eat much. This whole affair has kept his appetite at bay, and he only eats out of necessity. He can’t run on fumes all the time, after all. The sun sets early, clouds covering the October sunset that warns of the day’s end. Once in the batcave Bruce and Tim suit up, Alfred making sure their comms are secure and working, and leave via the batwing for faster travel.

The clock tower is Barbara’s location as Oracle, which worries Bruce, but she assures him that they won’t find her base of operations, hidden thoroughly. The criminals located there have no idea she’s there, but she only found out yesterday when they first showed up. None of the tenants in the apartments have noticed, which surprises Bruce a bit, but there are other ways to avoid gaining a civilian’s attention. Since then she’s kept quiet, not telling Bruce right away to listen in on them more. The thugs are antsy, but there’s no boss in the tower that she can detect, and Bruce assumes it’s not the most valuable cargo. At least, not as valuable as last night’s toxin. But there’s still the matter of explosives.

The base of the clock tower is quiet, the streets characteristically empty, save a few braver souls out after dark. Tim is itching to jump out of the vehicle, it’s his first mission in weeks. Bruce can only trust the boy won’t be too impulsive.

The lights of the clock tower brighten as the night grows darker, most windows shining light through as families have dinner and lead their normal lives, unaware that the Batman will be in the building. It’s amazing, that these people can be relatively oblivious as evil misdeeds are being carried out and corrected. It’s a luxury Bruce wishes he had sometimes.

He lets Tim lead the way at first, following him up the tower and away from the apartments. The higher up they go the darker it gets, until they reach the top.

They actually make quick work of the clock tower, Oracle doesn’t report anything amiss and it just ends up being a mission to knock out thugs and take the boxes back to the batcave. It’s simple. The GCPD arrives shortly after they finish their mission, carrying the criminals off as Bruce and Tim watch. Bruce then comms Dick, wanting a status report. He doesn’t get a response, only buzzing static. Strange.

“Dick?” More static. A wash of worry comes over Bruce, even in battle Dick doesn’t usually fail to respond. “Nightwing, are you there?”

“He’s not answering?” Tim asks, forehead puckered. “He’s in the east end, right? I thought he said there wasn’t a lot of activity over there. Maybe his comm died on him.”

“Maybe.” Bruce doesn’t think so. He comms Oracle.

“I checked his comm, it was charged. I just talked to him five minutes ago, what’s going on?” Bruce quickly tells her, and she checks his tracker.

“He’s not on the map. Bruce, you should go check it out.” Her voice is neutral, but Bruce recognises the tone as one she uses when she’s uneasy

“Do you knows what’s happening at the East End?”

“No, it’s still blank on the map…” Barbara gives a small huff of impatience.

“I’ll go see if anything’s wrong, Barbara.” He doesn’t bother telling her not to worry. A heavy feeling settles in Bruce’s gut. “Tim, maybe you shouldn’t come with me.”

“Bruce, I just got out here.” Tim’s expression falls.

Bruce closes his eyes. “I don’t want you getting hurt. Who knows what happened? Please just go home.”

“What if you need help? It could be a trap.” Tim keeps trying to plead his case, but it won’t work. Bruce places his hands on his partner’s shoulders.

“I need you to be safe right now. Nightwing can usually take care of himself, but like I said earlier, this is a dangerous situation. If it’s a trap I’d want you there even less. Any other night I would let you go, I promise. Please.” He looks Tim straight in the eyes. Understanding flickers in the younger man’s eyes.

“You don’t want me to end up like Jason.” Bruce’s knows Tim can see it on his face, he knows it’s mirroring the turmoil he feels in his heart. Tim hesitates, biting at his lip. “Alright Bruce, I will. But the moment you need help call. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bruce smiles weakly. “Thank you. Maybe you should stay with Barbara, it’s closer.”

“Will do. But Bruce? Make sure you watch your back out there. I won’t be there to watch it for you.” Tim’s mouth is set in a firm line, eyes deep with concern. Bruce nods in understanding, waiting for Tim to enter the building before gliding off into the gloom.