Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

November 7th, 6:00 PM

Happy 25th. Make good choices. 

GOTHAM - BROWN BRIDGE 

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

March 17th, 5:00 PM

An estimated 30,000 officers were employed by the GCPD. A number Mary could easily neglect until a fraction of the force was literally forced together. Unfortunately, her stinging shoulder would never forget.

“Move! Stay out of the walkways.”

She lightly sidestepped past two smoldering vehicles, an unfortunate byproduct of the panic earlier that afternoon. Another overconfident officer with a megaphone roughly bumped into her, resulting in a pained hiss. 

Asshole.

Mendez was walking a foot ahead, long legs cutting through the crowd. Focused on the cleanup ahead, her partner remained unaware of their fellow officers’ abuse of voice amplifiers. 

“You think”, he called back, voice tinged with hope, “they might ask us to profile the suspects?”

Mary quickened her pace, finally catching up. A soot-covered hand pulled her to the side, positioned between the edge of the bridge and Mendez’s frame. Walking next to the lanky giant, she could see the furrow of his thick brows. They had somehow become more expressive when coupled with the gas mask. 

“Given that we technically don’t have clearance to be here anymore, I doubt it. Plus, He’s here, so change that doubt to a definite no”, Mary answered, voice low as she spoke out the side of her mouth.

They stopped at a cleared area that allowed a decent view of the ‘He’ in question. Mary shifted her lean as the metal guardrail bit through her coat. In the setting sun, the flowing fabric ahead of them reflected inky black against a ramrod-straight back. 

“He’s tense with annoyance.” The hero’s face was unreadable, but body language was always up for grabs. Mary tilted her head to continue mumbling, “If he were talking about Joker, his arms would be rigid and his feet light.” 

The stance reminded her of Dr. Elias Bircham’s theories on vigilantes. Unpredictable foes forced the uncanny merger of fight and flight. The upper body primed to swing, lower body prepared to dash. Mary had spent enough time in Gotham-wide emergencies to know the theory held weight. 

“Makes sense”, Mendez hummed distractedly. 

Everything lined up with what they knew. A confirmed copycat strain of Joker venom, which had caused far too many car crashes but nothing more. Mary narrowed her eyes, fingers working against coat buttons to block out the residual early spring chill. By all definitions, it truly was a lovely day. But in Gotham, that meant the pendulum had to swing. They got a cloudless day in exchange for substandard panic. 

Still, if that was the case, why was the Bat annoyed?

Following Mendez’s soft stare answered her question. An ever-growing number of young vigilantes were scattered across the scene, none of them behaving in a manner that would aid the investigation. 

“They’re fine", Mary assured, stretching out the 'i'. 

“They’re never fine.” 

It had been his idea to arrive at the scene hours after the alert had been canceled. At this point, the bridge would reopen by the end of the hour. But Daniel Mendez took every opportunity he could to observe the side kicks, and Mary needed an excuse to avoid their paperwork. 

A clear command broke through her partner’s fretting, “You’re all clear to remove your masks.”

The words were met with several simultaneous clicks and sighs of relief. Mary held her mask loosely at her side, hooked onto one manicured finger. Beside her, hesitant fingers twitched above the release clasp. 

“You believe that?” Mendez watched her out of the corner of his eye as if expecting her to drop dead. Mary remained very much standing, hand on her cocked hip. 

“The Bats haven’t been wearing theirs since we got here, and I’m certain they’re more paranoid than you.”

That was all the convincing it took for him to pull off his mask and take a deep breath of air. He returned to his frankly almost maternal-like worry, and Mary didn’t have the heart to chastise him again. If she were a betting woman, she would’ve placed money on the fact that giving in to the nagging, pinging feeling in his head was a relief. It was the same mental alarm that screamed phrases like “learned compulsion” at her daily. 

She flexed a hand, noting the residual ash under her nails. Most of her day had been spent kicking through charred remains of a building downtown, trying to climb into a serial arsonist’s brain. She was happy to be out of it for even the briefest respite. 

Rummaging through her bag, Mary pulled out a pack of wet wipes, attacking her nail bed with one. “We still need to write that report for Samson and Whitlock.” 

The words snapped Mendez back to reality as he threw his head against the rail. Profilers were necessary for anything the Bats couldn’t budget their time for, and the regular force hated. AKA, digging into people’s existence with a fine-toothed comb. Which also meant that - 

“We’re so overworked.” The man groaned as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“Tell me about it.” 

The reply didn’t come from her own mouth, but the suspension cable above. There was a swish as feet hit the ground, and Mary yelped, chucking her wipe at the landing figure. Nightwing caught it easily, his smile bright despite being here since noon. Slowly, Mary plucked it back with two fingers, keeping her eyes neutrally set. The action only made his smile widen. 

“I will say you came late to the party, Mendez and … Hayes,” he watched her face expectantly, making a show of extending out the “s”. 

What did Golden Boy want now? Mary fought to keep the bitter thoughts from manifesting on her face. 

“I hate that they know our names.” Daniel tilted his body conspiratorially as he muttered.

Mary let her hair partially obscure her face as she turned to whisper, “They know all our names.” The blonde curtain didn’t keep the ignored man out, as Nightwing cleared his throat loudly. 

“Actually, I’m just reading your name tag.” An escrima stick flicked the edge of the badge clipped onto her hip.

“Good for you.” 

Mary drummed her fingers, unimpressed. She didn’t let the silence stretch before adding, “Must not be a lot of crime in Bludhaven if you’re here.”

He paused before cocking his head, teeth gleaming from his plastic smile. But in the brief seconds between the two gestures, the corner of his mouth had curled downward. Her words had bothered him. Her own mouth twitched in pride. 

“Just here to help”, he flicked her badge again, causing it to flip, “FPCP Mariam Hayes. Clunky moniker, you got there, Mariam.”

“Forensic Psychology Criminal Profiler,”

Nightwing sucked in a breath, shaking his head in condolences, “Lawrence still insisting you guys use that title?”

Mary watched him through slits as her mind carefully formed her next words. “Detective will do just fine next time.” 

Mendez watched the exchange like a child with access to nightly TV for the first time. Interest, excitement, and the possibility of getting called out practically radiated off him.

“Next time?” The humor in Nightwing’s tone almost masked the expectant lilt in the question. 

Almost but not quite. 

She jutted her chin towards the other side of the bridge, drawing his attention to the beckoning Batman, “I’m being polite. Next time is doubtful.” 

He met her eyes in silent questioning … or challenge. It became difficult to tell with the mask. She tilted her chin back at him. 

Daddy’s calling

“Well then, until we meet again, Detective Mendez,” Nightwing turned fluidly on his heels, releasing his smile from her sight, “Good night, Mary.”

The conversation was over. No openings. Just the way the two of them had liked it for the past four years. Mendez gave him a salute before placing a hand over Mary’s shoulder and clinking his keys. They made it exactly three steps before his brows knit together, and he barked out a bewildered laugh. Mary whipped her head towards him, frowning. 

“I was polite! He came down here from thirty minutes away. What’s he expecting, a red carpet?”

The car beeped as Mendez pressed the button several times in succession. The noise pierced the empty side street.

“Polite isn’t enough when you’re trying to fit a circle block in a square hole,” he smacked both his fists together, demonstrating, “You just don’t like him, and I’d like to know why.”

Mary wrenched open the passenger door. “And I’d like to get home before midnight.”

Daniel slid into the driver’s seat, and the poor vehicle jolted as the speakers came to life. Reaching into her bag, she rummaged past case files and pens, feeling for a small plastic case. 

“Hey, we’ve got a ten-minute drive back to the precinct. I’d love to pick that little head of yo-”

She finally found her earplugs. Lip jutted out into a pout; her partner continued mouthing words at her. Papers came up to block him out of sight. 

Fortunately for her, ten minutes was enough time to begin her arsonist profile. 

Unfortunately for Mendez, ten days wouldn’t scratch the surface of why she disliked Nightwing.

Chapter Text

November 15th, 8:00 AM.

My bad for the late reply

Thanks

Same for you, stay safe. 

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

MARCH 17th 6:10 PM

Kitten heels hit the pavement as she launched herself out of the deathtrap. The vehicle shook with the abrupt cut-off of Bad Bunny’s voice. Great music, Mary thought, when not cranked up to ungodly decibels. 

“- take it, Val insists.”

Mendez flashed her an insistent smile as she gave him back listening privileges. Dropping the earplugs back into her purse, their feet made quick work of the stairs. A beeline was made for her desk, blinders on to the rest of the office.

“I can cook, you know.” She shrugged off her coat, dark fabric blending into the chair. 

Leather creaked in protest as Mendez dropped into his seat. With one foot, she slowly shoved his legs back into his designated space. 

“Yeah, but she’s gotten it into her head that you’re our stray. She took ‘early twenties’, ‘short’, and ‘miles from home’ and made you our practice child.”

“More like practicing empty nesters.”

He raised two fists at her. She flicked a wrist, biting her cheek as she checked her phone. 

Three missed calls from Mom

An alumni email asking for money 

Message from Dick 

A reminder from Samson to push the report

Her eyes darted back to the third notification. Teeth clamped into soft tissue. Bitter, metallic blood was immediately pushed down her throat while she reread the words.

“So what are you doing on your day off?”

Mary tore her attention from her phone, and the muscles at the base of her neck screamed. Whether the pain was from being crouched over most of the day or stress-tension was up for debate. Mendez laid out a few papers on top of the mountain at his desk, oblivious. 

“I’ve got a hair appointment.” Her response didn’t catch his attention. The information was bland; she always had a hair appointment. 

Her partner occupied himself with something besides the people around him for once. One leg perched up, head resting in his palm, brows furrowed into each other as he scanned the files. He was going to complain about his back to her tomorrow. 

Her chair’s wheels creaked as she turned to her computer, badge swiping against the reader. She wanted to check up on a few articles before confirming the arson profile. The field was narrow, but it never hurt to cross-reference. Tapping her badge against the desk, she looked down at her name.

FPCP Mariam Hayes. 

Her mind betrayed her as she took one more traitorous glance at her still glowing phone.

Congrats on the new job, Mary. 

GOTHAM CITY - BROWN BRIDGE

PRESENT DAY - DICK

MARCH 17 5:40 PM

Damian was going to kill Tim, and no one was going to save him. 

As Dick trudged back to the spot they’d been standing at for god knows how long, his brother’s inevitable funeral was evident. One could only poke the bear with a bow staff so many times before the bear stopped trying to maim and went for the heart. 

It was that exact behavior that kept them all stuck here all day. The bridge was an unstated punishment. Somewhere along the lines, Bruce had decided to make the trade-off of wasting his own time to drown his children in boredom. There was no other reason to investigate ‘Venom Dupes’, as Stephanie called them. Dick was just unfortunate collateral damage. 

His fault for visiting. 

“Stop that.” He slipped between a couple of officers, coming to stand between the bickering. Any longer and the big vein on Bruce’s covered forehead would burst. 

Dick could have left whenever he wanted; he was a grown man, but something in him told him to wait. The tension in his chest had whispered that something interesting was due to happen, whether that be his adopted father’s eventual blown gasket or a turn in the crime. Neither happened, and instead, he was whiplashed by the past. 

“When did Bugs and Tweety get here?” Tim leaned against his staff, lazily kicking at a piece of debris. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick could see his brother watching the spot where he’d stood minutes ago. One towering frame guiding delicate shoulders down the bridge. The man, Mendez, began laughing. Mary didn’t, and it made him slightly prideful, like he could have done better. 

Dick couldn’t help the quizzical smile at the nicknames. It pulled at his straining cheeks, but got the message across to Damian, who answered. “Drake is referring to the shiny-haired woman and the human flag pole retreating down to the street.”

“They’re new. Mendez and Hayes” was tacked on at the end like an afterthought as the boy went to bother Bruce. 

Tim managed to get good airtime on his next kick right in Damian’s retreating direction. The can was easily intercepted, and Dick felt it crunch slightly in his gloved hand. The other held onto Damian’s cape, pulling him back. 

“Why do you two know Mendez and Mary enough for nicknames?” When he’d been Robin, he couldn’t remember caring enough to memorize most officer names. Especially in the early years, when none of them wanted to speak to the preteen in shorts. 

“Gordon likes to call them that.” Tim licked his lips, eyebrows raising like Dick was supposed to know the answer.

“It’s fitting,” Damian supplied.

Neither of them cared to elaborate. Golden hair disappeared from Dick’s periphery as a car sped away. Tim leaned forward, close enough that Dick could smell the Crest Optic White on his breath. 

“But more interestingly, how do you know Mary? ”

Dick could lie, say he read her name on the badge. He’d made such a show of it a few moments ago, hitting it so hard it twisted, obscuring her smiling photo. She’d look down at him, eyes squinted into cold slits that resembled concrete. The habit was giving way to fine crow’s feet. Any mention of which would have sent her spiraling. 

“I’ll tell you later”, Dick said lightly, wiping his hands on his thighs. The action didn’t do much, considering his hands were covered. 

He knew he’d already hesitated long enough that lying was no longer on the table. Later would come late enough that the answer wouldn’t be interesting. Especially if Bruce forced an early patrol to keep the disastrous pair next to him busy. 

Twenty minutes later, back in the cave, the patrol remained unmentioned as Bruce disappeared for a moment of uninterrupted peace. 

It seemed luck was not with him today, Dick thought, as his brother loitered behind him at one of the change room entryways. He peeled off his mask. Tired eyes, muted as if some of the blue had been drained out of them, stared back from the mirror. A finger swiped underneath them as if he could erase the bags. 

“So?” Dick could feel the hot stare on his back as the pressing question came in. 

“I went to school with her”, was his cool reply.

Tim looked at him unimpressed. Intelligent eyes flickered between the older man’s face and body, as if expecting more. As if by watching him, he could glean more. Dick sighed, giving in. 

“I was at Gotham U for a semester? We were lab partners?” He added, voice rising in uncertainty about what the teenager wanted. “Sorry, it’s not that interesting.”

Tim raised his hands in annoyed concession. The boy knew much more than he ever let on. He also enjoyed pretending like he knew more than he did. An interesting paradox that made him a surprising wild card despite the practiced look of innocence he often wore. 

“That’s it, Tim. Go run off and tell Damian if you want. I don’t care.”

Tim scoffed at the idea that he’d ever share information with Damian. Dick made his way to the exit, ignoring him. He still had a thirty-minute drive back to his apartment and a city to patrol. Metal jingled as he patted his pocket. He should’ve left Gotham at the first sign that his help was no longer needed. 

“You were surprised that she’s here.”

Arms prickling, he slowly turned with a nudging ‘hmm’. 

“You didn’t expect her to be in Gotham, let alone here this long”, Tim spoke matter-of-factually, as if his observations were the law, “You like to tap your-”

“You’re right”, he cut him off curtly, not needing a play-by-play of his actions. “Last I checked, she was supposed to be at the BAU. Caught me off guard.”

Tim practically beamed with satisfaction, looking more alive than he’d seen the boy in months. A reminder to Dick that he needed to give the boy more praise or at least nag Bruce to do so. 

“Now, can I go? It’s like you’ve been spending time with profilers like her, the way you’ve obviously been watching me.”

Tim shrugged as he walked back to the computer with a lazy spin, “Sometimes. If a body drops, and they call her at the same time as my patrol. She’s got a good idea or two when she isn’t staring people down.”

Dick pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Tim didn’t know half of it. If he were as smart as he pretended to be, he’d stay away from her. The more time Mary had around people, the more reason she had to dig. He checked for his keys one more time and headed out of the cave. 

The sun was just beginning to think about setting when he pulled onto the road. Blue was fading, but the yellows and pinks hadn’t overtaken the sky yet. He set his music and tossed his phone for the half-hour drive. 

He was about five minutes in at a red light when his mind wandered from the music to gray eyes. Mary hadn’t been happy to see him. Furthermore, she hadn’t expected to ever see him; she’d hidden her shock well, but not well enough to hide it from him. 

The light stayed red long enough for him to make a choice. Thirty minutes was the perfect amount of time to do nothing about a bad decision. And truly, were you really pretending to be friends if you didn’t check in? 

His hand blindly reached around the seat for his phone. Her contact was at the bottom, from a brief “Happy 25th” in November. He thumbed it open, typing the congratulations out before tossing the phone again. It bounced off his backpack, landing somewhere further in the passenger seat. 

There was a good chance she wouldn’t answer for a few days. That was fine. The least he could hope for was that she knew he was being honest. Even if the mention of her name still brought nausea to his stomach and his presence clearly annoyed her, there were too many years between them not to say congrats. She was living the dream she used to drone on about while stirring far too much caramel into her coffee. 

He really was wishing her the best. He pressed his foot on the gas and Dick began to dwell on the likelihood of misinterpretation. 

What else was he going to do for half an hour?

Chapter Text

March 17, 6:05 PM

Congrats on the new job, Mare

March 18th, 3:00 AM

Thanks 

March 18th, 3:30 AM

Not to stir things up. Is your dad ok?

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM UNIVERSITY

FRESHMAN YEAR - DICK 

OCTOBER 26th, 2:00 PM 

Thwack. 

Thwack.

Thwack. 

“Could you not?”

Dicks pencil stilled as he mumbled an apology. The table jolted from where his feet refused to stay still. 

“What’s wrong?” Mary huffed before snapping her computer shut and pulling out her headphones. 

She raised an eyebrow, a strand of hair falling from her bun and into her face. Quick hands pushed it back into place. 

Dick barely looked up; as long as he pretended to stare at the pixels, he didn’t need to meet her gaze. Ervin Goffman’s “Dramaturgical Approach” blinked on the screen, and Mary’s water bottle teetered as his knee began to shake. 

The clang of metal hitting tile forced his eyes up as Mary bent up to pick up the pink bottle, inspecting it for dents. It was perfectly fine, but he forced out another apology anyway. 

“Is it the content?” she asked plainly, setting the bottle in her bag this time. 

“Excuse me?” Dick waved at a classmate walking past. 

He’d always said that whoever designed this floor must have been inspired by fishbowls. The study room’s front and back walls were almost entirely windows. An interesting choice for a city constantly under attack. It did, however, have the perk of keeping the rooms empty, as most students avoided being on display. 

Mary repeated the question incredibly slowly, “Is it the content? We started reading at the same time, and your eye stopped skimming pages a minute ago.”

“Even you can’t read and watch me at the same time.” Dick knew Hayes was hyper observant, but she was still human. He also knew she hated being reminded of her limitations. 

The freckles on her nose meshed together. “I stopped when you decided to pick up drumming.”

The pencil in question was confiscated as she slid over in her chair, snatching his page of notes. With the offending writing utensil, she pointed to the last line, a prompt posed by the professor.

The performance of living. Defend or oppose the proposed social theory.

There were marks where he’d written and erased his answers. She curled both brows up in victory. She had been right about it bothering him. 

“Do you want to debate it?”

“No.”

“Chicken.”

He rubbed his eyes so hard he was seeing stars as he admitted, “A teammate told me the other day that I was a true performer. That he’d never seen a smile so realistically fake.”

He didn’t tell her the details she didn’t need. That it was a team bonding exercise where Wally had called him out on gauging everyone’s reactions too much. Lord knows what Mary would have done with the information. 

Through the third-story window, students milled about like ants. Someone had raked a substantial amount of fallen leaves into a small hill, and periodically, a person or two jumped in. 

When he turned back, Mary was still watching him with half-lidded eyes. The girl wouldn’t say the obvious, that technically, he was a performer since birth. He’d learned early on that she always curated her words, gauging responses of her own. The only difference was that she wasn’t always working towards positive ones. 

“I can see how that would be insulting coming from someone you feel exposed and trusting toward.” Her low voice filled his senses, slowly unraveling the thoughts in his head. 

“I really shouldn’t be talking about this stuff with you”, he warned unconvincingly, spinning the chair side to side. 

For a single semester lab partner Mary had already dug too much into his life. He didn’t need to give her more puzzles to solve. 

A voice far too amused for her own good egged him on, “Hey, as long as you don’t name names, what’s the harm? It’s not like I have other friends to tell your secrets to.”

Smiling with anticipation, she reached with both hands for his computer. Turning it to face her as she wrote a few notes in the margins of his notebook. With all his things now commandeered, Dick found himself wanting to speak. 

“Once you learn what people want, the luxury of being ‘off’ goes away,” he shoved a hand through his hair, “But no one teaches you how to balance what people need and what they want.”

Dick had to bend his head over her arm to read her tight script. She’d erased one of the answers he’d been hesitant about. The pencil stilled as Mary looked up through her lashes, and he nodded approvingly before continuing. 

“I always think I’ve got the balancing act down until someone decides to look behind the curtain.” 

“Poetic,” came the dry response

“Only around you”, he stopped her hand from going over number twelve. He’d fix the answer later. “You just had to go and tear down the curtain.”

Mary didn’t humor him. She’d once said that if she hadn’t been so straightforward in their partnership, they wouldn’t be able to get an A in the lab. Her worst nightmare.

“You know what I’d give to be around people and not have this mental clutter. ‘Don’t stare too long, Dick. Don’t laugh too much, Dick. Keep smiling, Dick.”

Mary tapped the pencil lightly, mimicking his earlier movement. Her voice was sugary sweet as she said, “Because if you deviate from your script, how will you make everyone like you, right?”

He rolled his eyes, more like if he deviates from the script, he can’t control what happens. In his line of work, Dick needed to keep people in line, to know exactly what they’d do, for his safety and theirs. The best way to do that was to keep those he interacted with placated. 

It worked. Until it didn’t. 

“Maybe the script needs remodeling”, he said bitterly, “Even if you follow it to a T, someone will know and get mad at you.”

He could already feel himself slipping. That rush of annoyance bubbling in his chest that made him want to bare his teeth. He couldn’t find the right smile to put on in front of the amused blonde to hide it. 

“Aww, look at you venting. You must like me.”

“You bring out the worst in people.”

Mary tossed her hair over her shoulder mockingly before sternly replying, “I have to poke these things out of you or you’ll explode on someone who doesn’t deserve it.” 

“Again, the worst part.”

Mary groaned as the lead snapped, he kicked his backpack over as she searched through, and exasperatedly continued. “You like complaining. You like to say when people annoy you or don’t listen. You want to be ‘authentic’ with others, but you just don’t let yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” Loud laughter forced him to pause as a group passed by their room, “It matters how others respond.”

Mary rummaged, pulling out a pen and testing it, “What you want does matter. And honestly, everyone might be better off with a little more communication.”

She handed him the pen. It hadn’t worked. Flicking his wrist, it flew across the room into the trash. 

“My point is, maybe if we turned those micro-expressions into actual words, we could avoid a lot of miscommunication.” Her eyes slowly shifted out of that analyzing state into something more akin to pondering. 

Dick slid a hand across the spiral of the notebook, the metal responding with a dull twang. Her mark was off he doubted the people she read even realized they made micro expressions. 

“Not according to this. Some researchers say that social lives are a lived performance. We adopt roles for the reactions we want.” He didn’t take his eyes off her and didn’t need to. Rereading the paragraph so many times meant the line was basically memorized by now.

Mary finally found a working pen and crossed out the “says” on his paper. She added the word “theorizes” on top instead and slid back his things. 

“We can’t say for certain. Our whole lives cannot be generalized to our social interactions.” She said the words academically, almost too plainly. 

Dick had said he wouldn’t debate her, but his mouth betrayed him, “Depends on what our definition of life is. Are our lives defined by connection, or are we thinking of the biological definition of life? Is a cell performing if it does its duty in the body?”

His mind wandered. A defective cell was one that did not perform. Deemed useless, it would die and impact the web of life around it. If he failed his duties, the same applied. A defective partner, like one who failed to anticipate the team’s needs, could cost lives. 

“I never said I had the answers. I’m just saying you’re not hopeless without that mental manual. You’re doing fine right now.”

“How do you know I’m not just making social calculations to get us to take a break?”

She lightly clapped her hands together, the sound barely audible, “I could be doing the same.”

“You’re too blunt for that.” 

She leaned into her chair as her mind mulled over the words. And then she laughed, the sound soft and free. It reminded him of the way the bracelets had jingled when his mom used to push his hair back. 

“You think this is who I am?” 

On a subconscious level, he knew the answer. Everything about her was curated, all the way down to those burgundy loafers. Simple, academic, bland. She’d spent so much time reading others that at some point, she’d realized how to hide herself. She just hadn’t done so through smile and banter. 

Their knees hit as he spun around, mimicking a news anchor. She looked at him, looked through him , but there was no ulterior motive. No reason besides the fact that she wanted to see all of him. Past the curtain. 

“Who is Mariam Allison Hayes?”

Clasping her hands beneath her chin, she leaned forward. When she smiled, it was small and her cheeks didn’t spread wide, but it was real and human. 

“I don’t know.” 

The whisper lingered in the room. He pressed his lips together, unsure of how to respond. Her smile didn’t wane as she made space, foot tapping beside his. 

“Maybe we’ll never know, but that’s the fun part.”

“So is living a performance?”

Mary pushed all the air out of her lungs. 

“I guess we’ll see when the show ends.” She rolled to her side of the table, opening her laptop back up. She kept her headphones out this time, letting her music play. 

It was something heavy with drums.

Chapter Text

March 18, 5:00 PM

Message Read 

GOTHAM CITY - CRIME ALLEY “DOWELS TOWNHOMES”

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

June 17th, 8:30 AM

Every inch of grass was scorched to high heaven. Not that there was much to begin with, Mary supposed. The air was thick, pulsing with heat, and it made the metallic stench hit her early. 

“Like when the Rowens left that stuck pig”, she muttered to herself, pulling honeyed strands into a high ponytail as she crossed the street.

As she approached, she could hear Mendez loudly complaining to the forensics guys. It was hot enough that most of the force had received a kind email saying the dress code would be waived. Key word: Most.

‘I didn’t even get the chance to consider getting a complimentary t-shirt because I woke up to his bull,” the poor intern just smiled and nodded as Mendez gesticulated with his hands. 

Mary held back a smile as she accepted the shoe covers handed to her. Chief Profiler Harold Lawrence was particular. Ornery, picky, and way past retirement were other apt adjectives. Two minutes after the administration’s announcement, he’d made it very clear that his ten-person team did not apply. 

She snapped on a pair of gloves as she crouched, taking in the victim. Mendez gave her a nod of acknowledgment, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. He’d rolled up his sleeves, an act against Lawrence’s dress code. 

“Rebel.” 

As quickly as it came, the thought of humor escaped her mind as she took in the victim. Carolyn Dyson. 50 years old. Stabbed to death alongside her husband. Mary frowned, stabbing was putting it lightly. Practically butchered was the term she’d have used. 

“Check her arm. It’s why they called you.” A pen guided her eyesight as Mary shuffled closer, careful to move within the relatively dry patches. 

“It’s as if someone attempted to carve something”, Mary said, gingerly stepping onto a chair, earning a cough from one of the forensic bros. She rolled her eyes; they’d already swept the area before she arrived. “They managed the 50 but started shaking on the line beneath it.” 

Mendez joined her a second later. Two was a crowd, but “ruining” multiple parts of the crime scene was a lot even for them. Beneath their perch, a drying stream of crimson stopped before the kitchen. 

“It’s disorganized for sure. Every piece reeks of combustible anger.” Mary reached for the notebook in her back pocket, the warm leather occupying her hands as she marked down her thoughts. “But I wouldn’t jump to calling it a signature.”

Her own words sounded far away as she sorted through the details. No past killer matched the specifics. She couldn’t remember the team flagging any current cases that aligned either. Nothing justified looking into cold cases … at least not while on the clock. 

Mendez’s tanned hand left his forehead again, his voice soft, eyes perpetually doe-like: 

“You’re the expert, Hayes.”

She paused. That meant she called the shots on whether they flagged it as potentially serial. Her partner didn’t sound convinced as he made his way down, out the door, and around the apartment. 

Mary followed, ponytail bouncing as she jogged to keep up.

Blüdhaven - Downtown

PRESENT DAY - DICK 

June 17th, 8:30 AM

Warm wind whipped past his face as his feet thudded on the cracked sidewalk. An elderly woman and her corgi screeched as he dodged past her. 

“Police. Move. Move.” 

There was shouting behind him as he picked up his pace, adrenaline pumping. One leap over the hood of an unfortunately colored Toyota, followed by a very calculated stumble, and cuffs were being clinked on. 

Officer Amy Rohrbach slowed to a stop beside him, immediately reading out the man’s rights. Dick caught his breath, finally getting a good look at the man. He was skinny, face gaunt, hair shining with grease.

Frankly, he looked like a mess.

The man wriggled, and Amy tightened her grip, her sharp voice becoming even firmer.

“Anything you say can be-.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!” He cried out with a frazzled glint in his eyes, body shaking. There was blood over his knuckles and his neck where he’d rubbed it. The criminal’s state of mind had clearly deteriorated after the presumed killing. 

If Dick remembered correctly, a few Gotham U students had coined it as the “heat of adrenaline”. The feeling as the body stepped into its autonomic nervous response. Hot, flustered, tense, and incredibly unsound of mind. 

There was a growing buzz of voices behind him.

“Let’s back it up, please”, Dick shouted to the forming crowd, whose lunch hour had become a show. The expression he adopted helped get most to willingly step back. The smile of a kind cop who’d let them stay as long as they listened. 

Trained eyes moved left to right, taking in the businessmen and on-break students. From his periphery, light hair gleamed in the sun. A shade off from drops of honey. He whipped his head, startling the teenage girl beside him, whose blonde braids flew. 

He forced out an apology as he guided her gently back. 

“Is that the guy who killed Macy Butler?” she whispered, eyes wide with anticipation. Her orange T-shirt burned into his retinas, but he loved it. Dick forced her to take another step back onto the sidewalk. 

Butler had been the third girl to wind up murdered. Found on a park bench three months ago by a very unlucky WWII veteran. Cameras and witnesses had been unable to identify who had left her until today. 

The girl shifted on her feet as she waited for his answer. She was more excited about knowing something first than the fact that they might be putting a killer in jail. Specifically, one that was preying on her age. 

It reminded him of someone. Multiple someone’s. 

His lips parted. She was young; she needed someone to go easy on her, not kill her curiosity. “I’m sorry I cannot-”

“Grayson, a little help here.”

He turned to Rohrbach’s strangled demand, quickly crossing to help the brunette guide the thrashing suspect into the car. 

“I didn’t do it! She wasn’t 19! I didn’t know - I didn’t do … He said - He told me-.”

The yells grew more and more hoarse as the man practically destroyed his vocal cords. 

Dick slammed the door before running a hand over his face. Behind the cover of his palm, he dropped his expression to neutrality for the briefest second. As the crowd dispersed, he raised his eyes to the slate gray sky. Instead of finding peace, he received a confirmation that it would rain tonight during his patrol. 

Boom.

Muffled screams and pounding came from the car. The man slammed into the door as much as his restraints allowed. 

It was only 8:30.

God help him.

Chapter Text

June 17th, 5:00 PM

Dick. This is a family matter. Answer your phone. 

GOTHAM CITY - CRIME ALLEY "DOWELS TOWNHOMES”

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

JUNE 17th, 9:00 AM 

“Look, in the heat of adrenaline, we do things that we never expect.” Mary leaned against the mailbox. “I’m angry. We’re arguing, and suddenly I snap because I want you to shut up. Then when I come to …” 

She wasn’t sure what she was defending as she listed off the details on one hand. The river of blood. The prone woman still in her Hello Kitty Pajamas. The missing kitchen knife. The notebook was tucked back in her pocket as her partner circled the dying tree right underneath the second-story window. 

“And then I get angry again. Or I start feeling remorseful.” The rest of her claim was finished off quickly, “And I start to wonder if anyone will find her, so I carve her age into her arm, and I go to do more before realizing ‘what the hell am I doing.”

And then you run. 

She avoided looking up at where her partner was attempting to scale the tree. 

“Where does the husband fit in?” Mendez called, voice breathless. 

“Same cause of death. The same details apply. Though I doubt there was enough emotional power to do the same carving job,”

She’d hypothetically bet money on it. Mary counted to three in her head before daring to peek up, sighing immediately. 

“We don’t know if the suspect came through the window, Daniel,” she said loudly, forced to raise her voice above the construction around the corner. 

Mendez somehow managed to waggle his foot rudely back, “Despite your lovely theory about emotional ties, it’s even less likely he came through the door.”

Her training physically fought against the use of “He”. Even after almost a year, the man still had trouble fully getting into the killers’ heads. “I” or “You” was always the better response before a gender was assigned. 

Browned grass crunched underneath boots as she came to stand beneath him, cocking her head. She considered letting this play out longer, but curiosity gnawed at her chest.

“How’s that idea working out for you?”

“Superb. Now we know he has to have been a little guy.” 

Mary cringed again. Mendez finally managed to squeeze his long torso through, falling with a thump. Her nose twitched involuntarily before she reached for the lowest branch. 

Despite his theatrics, Daniel was right. Someone had to have scouted their way in, and as the smaller of their pairing, she entered the pink room much more easily. Mendez was on his knees when she arrived, thick brows furrowed in concentration. 

“How’d ya get in?”

Her footsteps were muffled as she padded over to him. A teenage girl’s dream seemed to have been thrown all over the place. So this is what Mendez had been hiding. Why has he been called early, and why has he been doubting her theory. 

“Grew up on a fruit farm. You could have said this was a missing persons case.”

Carolyn’s husband and the father of their abductee, Mark, lay near a smashed white dresser. She eyed the exposed arm. Completely bare. 

“Kate Dyson, she’s 17. A friend called 911 after checking in when she didn’t come to school.” Daniel’s voice was the poster child of respect as he listed the details. 

Mary nodded, pursing her lips. Lawrence had somehow stolen Mendez from the federal crimes against children division. This type of victimology was his playground, not hers. 

Her partner paced the room, taking in every detail that would let him into Kate’s world. Mary stepped closer to the body. That was closer to her domain. Near Mark’s head, dried blood stuck out like rubies against the pastel pink carpet.

“I still say anger and pan-”, she reached a gloved hand to the space behind the dresser, pulling out a baby monitor. “Holy overprotective father.”

She held the item up for him to see. Smashed and unusable to the rest of the force, but a treasure for behavioral analysis. Mendez waited patiently as she muttered to herself. 

“Who does this to their teenager? What’s that saying, strict parents make sneaky kids.”

“And sneaky kids aren’t safe kids.”

Mary fiddled with the edge of her notebook, still in her pocket. Daniel turned, and she raised an eyebrow. In his hands was a basket practically overflowing with dolls. 

“Question for you, Mariam. Is it normal for a high school senior to have an army of dolls under the bed?”

“I don’t make it a habit to hang out with teenagers.” Was her sardonic response.

Mendez raised his hand, pointing back at her. “Trick question, it is normal. What isn’t normal, however, is this.”

Slate gray eyes narrowed as he handed her a dark-haired Barbie. On the small plastic arm was the written-out number fifty with a jagged cut underneath. 

BLUDHAVEN - GRAYSON'S APARTMENT

PRESENT DAY - DICK 

JUNE 18th, 12:05 AM 

When everything goes up in flames, you aren’t supposed to root for people. You aren’t supposed to give them the benefit of the doubt. Because no one makes excuses for Brutus. 

Dicks expression twisted. Eyes shut, he landed back on the bed. His head was pounding, and for all he knew, maybe they did. Maybe Brutus’ hand had slipped. Maybe he’d cried for the friend, the knife betraying them both. 

That was his issue, and he knew it. He kept giving the people around him the benefit of the doubt. 

His suit was on the ground in a heap, and it was too warm for a hoodie after a night of exertion. But he wore it anyway, head throbbing from something that wasn’t quite a concussion. Bruce’s overly calm voice filled his mind from their call earlier. 

“It’s Jason.” 

This whole Red Hood deal was taking a turn for the worse. A bloody bag, bullet-ridden, turn for the worst. 

And yet I’m still here rooting for you 

His head protested as he screwed his eyes tighter. The street light illuminating from the window still wormed its way in. Realistically, he’d taken worse tumbles in his time on earth. Yet for some reason, as he’d lain on that rooftop, his breath had felt like a stab to both lungs. 

And then he’d said, quite bitterly, “This is aces.” 

And the phrase had felt foreign and like home at the same time. Something that didn’t belong to him, but he borrowed anyway. It really had encompassed the moment. Quite succinctly, if he had to admit. 

He’d spent the entire night trying to figure out why people were dropping like flies. No sign of entry into any of the locations. Right before he’d spent his day like the rest of the Bludhaven police, running in circles. 

The icing on top of the neon, murderous cake was the fact that their only profiler had left today in tears. 

So yeah … aces

His jaw felt locked in place, and he forced his tongue down, releasing grinding teeth. Against his better judgment, he wondered if anyone had ever imprinted on him like that. Turned over things he said when he wasn’t there. Watched the crowds for signs of him. 

He must have at some point. But even Robin didn’t feel like himself anymore. A title steeped in death. For Tim and Damian, in some ways, it was now less of a legacy and more of a stepping stone. 

And Jason. 

“God, Jason”

He shook his hands next to his face, eyes looking to the ceiling like he might find an answer. The mattress shook as he dropped his arms with a thud. He’d go to Gotham first thing in the morning. A good soldier following his father’s calling. 

She’d been right, of course, when she’d texted asking if his dad was okay. The phone rang with a start. Rolling over, he looked at the caller ID. Speak of the devil. 

He closed his eyes, his heart pounding alongside his head. He’d sent the text in a fit of desperation, while removing mud-stained boots and trying to catch his breath. The idea had been normalcy. As much normalcy as he could get. 

Because he was hurt. Because of what he’d said. Because even Brutus deserves the benefit of the doubt, and sometimes Brutus was the best choice. If he wanted normal in his line of work, Mary Hayes was the only civilian who could give it. 

And the sad thing was, she was only a friend on a technicality. He doubted they’d keep in touch if she didn’t know his identity. If she only knew him as Dick, she would have made true on her vow when everything had burned down.

“I’m going to forget about you.” 

Instead, neither had the luxury of forgetting the other. He knew that when the news reported attacks against Nightwing, she wouldn’t be able to separate the vigilante from the boy she used to call a friend. 

The same way he heard his brothers talk about cases in Gotham and wondered if she was working similar angles. 

The phone continued to ring, and he finally answered, bracing himself for the “pleasant greeting”.

“What’s wrong?” Mary’s words came out tinged with worry. From the other line, he could hear a microwave beep. 

He took a deep breath. And then lied, which was the wrong choice because she didn’t need to see him to read it as such. She’d probably threaten to tell Bruce while acting like she didn’t care. 

Mary did all of the above. Elegantly and a little meanly. He deserved the awkwardness after texting her out of the blue. But maybe she deserved it, too. He wanted her to feel the same way he did, no matter how wrong that made him.

As he tried to defend himself, he could hear that she wasn’t okay. Bruce had told him last week that Gotham was a pressure cooker at the moment, more so than it usually was. Every officer was spread thin, and he doubted she wasn’t taking on more than she could chew. 

“If I said sorry, would you accept it?”

If he could just bridge the gap, he could help fix it. If he admitted he was wrong and apologized, maybe she would follow suit. Otherwise, they’d stay in this rut forever.

“No. Because you’d be expecting one back.”

He silently pounded his forehead as she refused to let progress happen. Mary was the metaphorical contractor shooting down every single one of his proposals for the bridge. 

Dick felt the frustration build up, ending the call with, “This was stupid.” In the silence, all he was left with was the sparse bedroom and the suit on the floor. 

The feeling was even worse knowing that he’d been honest. Everything was stupid. If he kept living like this, something was going to give. He felt like a puppet meant to please, and he needed to reclaim something for himself. 

He checked his phone again. One text.

“Thanks for checking in,” Dick knew she didn’t mean it as a kindness. He decided to take it as one anyways. With enough mental manipulation, he could pretend it was an opening.

Maybe then he could take back the friendship for himself. It would be a good side project for him, he justified.

Chapter Text

June 18th, 1:00 am 

Of course. Trying to be more consistent. 

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

JUNE 18th, 8:00 AM

It was a privilege to work directly at GCPD headquarters. That’s what the pretty redhead who’d given Mary the tour had said. The woman had been perky throughout the entire tour, and her sleeves had been irritatingly askew. 

Despite the show of enthusiasm, the woman hadn’t delayed in giving up the coveted spot. Last Mary heard, she’d moved far away and quit law enforcement. Even so, she had been right - the building was nice, the admin was close, and most of the seats were cushioned. 

Mary slid into the chair, dropping her bag next to her. The fluorescence of the overhead light turned her green blouse a shade off of puke. Mendez wasn’t afraid to point it out as he said good morning. 

Mary pushed herself deeper into her chair’s padding, giving him her best overly bright smile. “Remember when that inebriated suspect barfed all over your hair?”

He groaned, burying his face into the stack of files on his desk. It was a mystery where they accumulated from. Mary slid her badge quickly against the computer’s reader. She could vaguely register Mendez handing her a file that she took with an outstretched hand. 

“I looked into a couple of cold cases. Similar ones that had to do with carving or the presence of dolls. No real matches, but I only read about three.” She pushed her chair to run a finger over her own set of files, plucking one up to finish the trade. 

“And what time did you go to bed?” 

Mary ignored him, reading the email Lawrence had sent on her commute. An announcement that Bludhaven PD has officially removed its behavioral analysis hires. 

That was just aces. 

Mendez leaned to read over her shoulder, “Cost-saving measures. It took 100 days for them to decide to outsource.”

She frowned. Outsource to whom? Would they wade through government bureaucracy or put in a favor to Gotham? She shook her head as she finished typing a response. 

Mendez sat casually, a foot over his knee, file in one hand, a highlighter in the other. He opened his mouth, ready to fill the silence when she asked. 

“What does it mean if a friend you haven’t talked to in three months texts out of the blue?”

Mendez perked up, but his gaze didn’t leave his work. “Doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”

The only sounds between them for a few delicious moments were the clacking of her keyboard, the whirring of the several industrial-sized fans bought as a result of the heatwave, and the distant wail of a siren. 

Mary wet her lips, unknowingly typing much faster, “It’s my best friend, unfortunately. We had a falling out a few years ago, but have an unhealthy attachment.”

“As one does.”

“Don’t judge, he’s a good person. You know, there’s always one person from college you can’t let go.”

Mendez set down his file, brown eyes filled with excitement. Like a little boy who’d just received permission to go to the candy store but wanted to play it cool. It didn’t help that his tie had tiny race cars all over it. 

“Is it your abandonment issues? Because I’ve been picking up that something must have happened to you-”

Mary raised her head, boring her eyes into his. The word STOP was etched into every single one of her features. 

Mendez had the foresight to pivot, capping his highlighter, “Guy or gal?”

“What does it matter?”

“It’s the only thing that does matter”, he smirked, “And by your defensiveness, it’s a guy.”

Mary stilled her face as she replied, “His name is Richard. He moved away, we drifted apart, and then I messed up by clearly overestimating my place. We don’t do random check-ins, we do birthdays and bank holidays.”

“Yeah”, Mendez drawled, rolling into her workspace, “But here’s the thing, 25 is a very lonely age, Mariam. Makes a guy want to put in effort.” 

Mary suddenly felt claustrophobic as the man, who was far too close, took the millisecond of silence as an invitation to talk about biological clocks and the desperate need to find soulmates. 

“He had a girlfriend.” At least he had the last time Mary had checked. 

“Don’t even think of it as romantic. There’s always an innate need for platonic connections, especially if you feel alone. That’s when you start thinking, ‘Hey, under her incredibly dry exterior, my old lab partner wasn’t so bad.’”

Mary snorted, crossing her ankles, “Is that a compliment?”

She received a response of a quick tug on her braid and the sound of glass sliding on wood. The profiler peered at the small bottle as the bright orange liquid inside stilled. 

“Are you going to text him back?”

Mary uncapped the bottle, sniffing its contents. 

“You did, didn’t you? Bad, bad Hayes.”

“Called him, actually. I thought he might be in trouble and accidentally clicked the first number he found.” 

She swirled the bottle. “What is this?”

Mendez clinked his own against hers. “Some new health concoction, Val’s on. Turmeric, garlic, ginger, god knows what else.”

Mary tipped the contents into her mouth in one go. It burned going down, and she choked, hunching over into her knees. Mendez handed her his water bottle as she blinked tears out of her eyes. 

“A lot of garlic and ginger”

Mendez patted her arm, tsking, “Didn’t your parents ever tell you never to take drinks from people, Mariam?”

Her voice was hoarse as she finally spoke, “You’re my partner, I’m supposed to trust you with my life.”

She was about to receive a witty reply when Lawrence rounded the corner. The older gentleman was pulling at the sparse hair he had left and looked more irate than usual. At least he wasn’t going towards them.

Mary took another swig of water, still bent over. Mendez tapped on her arm, and she looked up at the disappointed expression of her supervisor. 

Lawrence barely glanced at her tearful expression and Mendez’s hazardous desk space.

“I need to speak with you both."

  GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

ONE NIGHT AGO - MARY

 JUNE 17th 12:00 AM

Mary kicked the door with her foot. In one hand was balanced her work bag, and in the other a Tupperware of chicken soup courtesy of one Valeria Mendez. Daniel had practically forced it into her arms, claiming that his wife worried she’d never eat. He’d also called her “expensive,” which had earned him an immediate smack to the shoulder.

Her shoes went promptly onto the rack, bag back on the hanger above it. Files on the kitchen counter, food in the microwave. Mary watched the minute count down. Her phone chimed at the same time as the food. 

A text from Dick. 

She narrowed her eyes. The microwave beeped again. She read the text a few times. 

“Hey, hope you’re doing well. Just checking in.”

Just checking her ass. She pulled the soup out, jamming her spoon into it as she pressed call. It rang. Once. Twice. On the third ring, he answered.

“What’s wrong?” She really tried to lace her voice with venom, but it didn’t sound convincing. She couldn’t be mad if he was bleeding out; that was just rude. 

He was softer as he replied, “Like the text said-”

“Do I have to call your dad?”

There was silence as he shuffled on the other end. It sounded like he was on a bed, a real one, not a metaphorical one that would take him to his lord. Unless he’d been kidnapped, then the deathbed was still on the table. 

“No, Mary. I landed hard on a roof, got the air knocked out of me, and a little sense back in. I just wanted to check in.”

He lied like someone good at it. Ironically, like the career criminals usually at the other end of her table. Mary swirled the soup. His voice was more labored for just a tough landing, but she wasn’t going to mention it. 

Yet. 

“Are you?”

“Am I what Dick?”

“Doing well?”

She sniffed, trying to cover her hiss as the food burnt her tongue. She stood on her toes, phone balanced on one shoulder as she reached for the sugar in her cupboard. 

“Yeah, I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking. Is there something else you needed?” She heard rustling in the background, probably moving the mess he always had around him. 

“If I said sorry, would you accept it?”

Mary had just put a spoonful of sugar on her burnt tongue. She swallowed it quickly. “No. Because you’d be expecting one back.”

She didn’t want mutual apologies. Even if they had both been to blame, what good would come of it? What she wanted was something she wasn’t sure existed anymore. 

Dick sucked in a breath. “You’re right.”

Silence and then …

“This was stupid.” 

He hung up. Mary blew on her soup, opening her file. She managed one paragraph before guilt set in. She groaned, grabbing her phone again, sending a simple.

“Thanks for the check-in.” 

She’d let him interpret it whatever way he pleased.

Chapter Text

June 18th, 3:00 PM

Let me know if you see Jason around? 

June 18th, 5:00 PM.

Unlikely

They barely let me outside

But sure

GOTHAM CITY - BATCAVE

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 18th, 8:00 AM 

The sound of Tim rhythmically tapping against the top left of his forehead was the only noise in the room as Bruce and Jason glared each other down. A very one-sided show of emotion, considering Jason’s dramatic ass refused to take the helmet off. 

The vein, unsurprisingly, also on the top left of Bruce’s forehead, strained. Dick turned his head, catching Tim’s eyes. The young man stopped his tapping to mimic an explosion instead. Behind them, Damain muttered under his breath that they were all bound to be fatherless in the next few minutes. 

“You cannot create an information trading ring with the GCPD”, Bruce’s voice was eerily calm considering the look on his face. 

“Oh, so it’s cool when you do it, but when I-”

“Your intentions matter, Jason.”

Damian raised a finger, “May I add, Father, that no one had died yet.”

Bruce threw a withering look in his direction that the boy didn’t acknowledge. Cass gently elbowed him to stay quiet. 

“No one is going to die. I’m shutting this down.”

“Like hell you are.”

Dick crossed his arms. He’d woken up early on his day off to help calm the waters because someone had decided that bribing the officers with information they likely lightly (at least he hoped lightly) tortured out of criminals was the best working relationship with the police they could get. 

“And you’re sure this isn’t so that they look away from certain things you may do?” Dick asked, keeping his tone unbiased. The arguing men both had a point unseen by the other due to their heightened emotions. 

“Well, it’s sure an added perk, isn’t Sparky?”

Dick frowned. That was a new one. After over a year back things were slowly patching back together with Jason. Compromises had to be made, and apologies were just starting to be accepted. He still tried to shoot at least one of them monthly with his settled upon rubber bullets.

Dick chose to pretend like it was mostly in jest. 

“No, look, I’m just one guy. I can’t know everything. And no one at the GCPD trusts the Red Hood unless I give them my intel and they tell me what their guys know about recent deals.”

“Gee, I wonder why no one trusts you.” Tim slowly aimed his finger gun at Jason, who mockingly shot his own back. 

“You have every opportunity to use our intel, Jason. You refuse,”

Jason scoffed, “And you have in my business more than usual? No thanks, old man. You aren’t slapping an Oracle-shaped stamp on my search history. No offense, Babs.

“None taken.” Barbara’s voice came from where she was listening in. “I don’t want to see any of your search history.” 

Dick sighed, motioning for Bruce to back down. The Bat didn’t like that, but they were circling a drain right now, and someone had to step in. Damian shifted in his seat as if preparing for a finale. 

“Jay, no one can fault you for doing something we all do. Except we don’t ask to do “personal interrogations” in exchange for intel. And we don’t do it to be able to do solo drug busts.

“Ok, first off, yes, you do. Secondly, my information is actually useful. I helped stop trafficking. My officers thank me.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “ Your officers.” He’d officially lost his cool, voice rising. 

Jason stepped back, relishing the breaking storm. He must’ve been smiling under the mask, cocky and proud of himself. 

“I’d like to remind you, all of you, how much of a deep-seated history the GCPD has with corruption. It’s taken decades of work from the entire city to get to the point we are today. And you have the audacity to call them ‘your officers’”.

“Well now-”

“What’s the difference between a cop working for you and a cop working for Sionis?”

“Now come on, that’s making a big assumption.” Dick stood, slipping between the two. He held his arm back against Jason, who flinched. 

“A bought cop is a bought cop. There needs to be allegiance to their duty, or the whole deck falls. Right now, you’re showing that anyone with enough sway can hold the cards.”

“You’re a hypocrite.” Jason spat

“This stops here, and if I catch word that any one of you tries something like this again, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?” Bruce raised both eyebrows in finality, refusing a non-answer. 

“Absolutely not.” 

Dick looked to the ceiling as Jason shoved past him to storm out. He counted to three before turning to Bruce with a grin.

“That went so well. I hope Alfred made breakfast.”

Bruce raised his hands as if in prayer as he too left the room. Dick should have followed to play mediator in case father caught up to son, but he truly couldn’t be bothered. Maybe they just needed to hash out. 

He leaned against the console, playing with the sleeve of his shirt. When he looked up, Cass was the only one left. She raised a knowing eyebrow. 

Dick sighed, dropping his shoulders, “I’ll go after him later.” 

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

JUNE 18th, 8:30 AM 

“Quit it.” 

Mary glared at Mendez, who was playing with the paper weight on Lawrence’s desk. It was embarrassing as is, but the fact that the Chief was sitting right in front of them made it worse. 

Daniel poked the glass rocking horse one more time. He’d heard her tone, audibly processed the clear red STOP in her hiss, and decided to run it. 

“So Harold, to what do we owe the pleasure?” His tone was far too casual. 

Mary sat with her back incredibly straight, hands in her lap. As a child, she’d never gotten in trouble at school. As an adult, she’d never even been pulled over. She licked her lips. 

This felt like getting in trouble. 

“Mendez, did I hire you to be in my personal space?”

Her partner scooted his chair back. He had nothing to lose. He’d been hired after being an experienced FBI agent and could always go back. Mary was incredibly fresh. Their stakes were much different. 

“Is this meeting pertaining to my lack of field clearance?” She tried to keep her tone neutral, shoving down the worry in her chest. 

“I wasn’t aware that you’d failed your field exam, Hayes.”

A weight lifted off her and was quickly replaced by annoyance. She’d had the top case clearance rate of the entire team for months, and he hadn’t even noticed something as glaring as her HR paperwork. 

She nodded politely, adding, “It’s my firearms portion, sir.”

Mendez held up three fingers between their two seats. Low enough that Lawrence couldn’t see. Three. She’d failed her firearms exam three times. 

Lawrence blinked several times before speaking, “Don’t get into a scenario where you need one, then. I hired you for your minds, not to tackle people. He thought for another moment, then added, “And please do not let Jim catch on. Unfortunately, as Commissioner, he does care.”

Mary nodded. Mendez’s hand moved toward the paperweight again. Lawrence moved it back. 

“What I wanted to discuss personally with you two is the recent changes happening in other cities. Now, before Hayes loses her mind, I’d like to say all your jobs are safe.”

Mary frowned. It was fun to profile. It wasn’t so fun to be profiled back.

“There’s a reason I only hire the ‘best seeds,’ besides the fact of my pride. Gotham’s profiling unit is on par with the best federal agents and is indispensable.”

Mary exchanged a look with Mendez. The only reason they were on par with the FBI was that the man kept stealing their agents. Most of them, like Mendez, were experts in their fields. Mary had been flagged when word hit that she was offered a spot at the BAU following her internship. Lawrence had caught her on a visit to Virginia almost a year into the job. 

“Are you disillusioned by Gotham yet, Miss Hayes?” He’d asked before presenting an opportunity of his own. 

She did not doubt that Lawrence had been cataloging the look of predatory ambition in her eyes and the way her manicured fingers slightly shook as she took down his information. 

Now those hands were held tightly together as she asked, “Which means what exactly, sir?”

“It means that we may be receiving requests from neighboring cities. As my two newest seeds, I wanted to make my expectations clear.”

Mendez grinned, “Oh, please do, Harry.”

“If the cases cross city lines, we take priority. We become heads on it. If I as much as hear that you thought about giving up a state-wide manhunt to any other Jersey department, I’ll bury you.”

“I’m guessing the same applies to nationwide?”

“If you can beat the FBI to it and hold them off, I’ll double your pay.”

Mary doubted he had that power. 

Lawrence clicked his tongue, “It goes without saying I expect absolute professionalism. And while our homegrown vigilantes, I do not mind, I expect you to tread with caution when outside the city.”

“So we shouldn’t give Superman access to our databases.”

“Send me a request first if you do, Mendez,” The older gentleman sounded tired. 

Mary stood, rubbing her hands on her dark slacks. “Not very likely we’ll get a case that requires us, though? How often would someone need serial or child profilers?”

Mendez fixed his tie, “Cathy in organized crime is going to have a field day.” His pitch rose at the end of his sentence. 

Mary nodded sympathetically. Lawrence simply shook his head in disappointment. 

“In my decades of experience, I’d say you two may have just jinxed yourself. Never make assumptions where you can avoid them.”

Mary bit her lip. She’d take the chances; the odds were in her favor. Dick had a good track record of handling crime in his city. 

Daniel held the door open, and she walked out. The door shut, but not before catching Lawrence’s additional comment.

“And Mendez, please purchase some presentable attire.”

Chapter Text

June 18th, 3:00 PM,

I’m in town. I’ll force you outside at some point. 

June 18th, 6:30 PM

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Grayson.

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

MARY - PRESENT DAY

June 18th, 7:47 PM

“Get up.” 

It really was a non-issue not to have field clearance as a profiler. Most of the work was paperwork and showing up after the crime was committed. Unless your partner was Daniel Mendez, who spent 3 years of his career kicking in doors and searching forests for missing kids. 

“But-”, Mary made grabbing motions towards her desk as the tall man pulled her up. 

She’d been able to whittle down her stack of files by noon and had already gotten through three of his. Besides their missing girl and the all-but-finalized arson case, most of her days were spent helping colleagues with preliminary profiles. 

Currently, the one on her desk had a sticky note, her neat script saying, “Suspect had tendencies of narcissistic personality disorder - please utilize this to your advantage by -”. The last word was followed by a smear of pen from where she was interrupted.

“We’re going on a field trip. Bye, Cesar!” Daniel sang as he practically pushed Mary out the door. 

Patrol Officer John Cesar, the unfortunate fellow who sat across from them, raised his coffee in salute. 

“Where to?”

“To break field duty protocol and put Mariam here in danger.”

Mary didn’t like how he said those words so casually. And loudly considering Gordon had just walked down the hall. 

“Do you ever shut up?”

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM BAY

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 18, 8:30 PM

Dick had assumed giving Jason space would be the right course of action. He’d helped Bruce look over some League business. Chatted with Alfred. Driven Damian to the animal shelter for his volunteering and waited two hours in the car. Sparred with Cass. Helped Tim with some relationship advice. 

And until recently been on an hours-long call with Stephanie, who wanted him to tie-break a debate between her and Tim. 

By the time he’d realized the time Alfred had set up his old bedroom, and now he was stuck. And still had to talk to Jason. 

He ran a hand through his hair as he landed on another rooftop. Maybe giving him space hadn’t been the right idea, considering that when he wanted to, his brother was a master at remaining unseen. 

And he’d just given him over 10 hours to plot on how he’d avoid them all. 

But there was something ingrained in Jason, just like the rest of them. He wouldn’t skip patrol. At some point tonight, Jason was going to be in Crime Alley or its surrounding areas. 

Dick just had to wait him out. 

The sound of the restless bay and its slightly acidic smell surrounded him. Twilight had slowly settled around the city, giving a disturbing feeling of peace. Dick had learned to distrust it as a young child. Gotham was a city that loved to lull her victims into false safety. 

He crouched on the edge of the smaller factory, peering down from it into the alley, when a swinging braid caught his eye. Senses kicking in, he stiffened, taking in the scene as he scanned for signs of distress. 

It didn’t take long for him to realize, with horror, that he knew the woman being held over the tall concrete fence separating the factories and the bay. From where he stood, he couldn’t tell if Mary looked annoyed or terrified at her predicament. 

He made a move to help when he heard her sardonic tone complaining, “Is that all? I’ve told you everything, I’m coming down.”

He breathed a breath of relief. So she wasn’t being threatened or kidnapped. The relief was short-lived, as immediately following, there was a crash so loud it almost felt like it belonged in a cartoon. 

Dick slowly made his way down the building, shaking with held-in laughter. 

Bugs and Tweety suddenly made much more sense. 

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM BAY

FIFTEEN MINUTES PRIOR - MARY 

JUNE  18th, 8:15 PM

Mary looked up at the concrete dividing fence with crossed arms. 

“How stupid do you think I am?”

She leveled narrowed eyes at her partner, who had both hands pressed to his mouth. 

“Mary … you’re the only person I know with the physique to simulate a middle school boy.”

She shut her eyes, shakily breathing in. Killing one’s partner and dumping them in the bay was frowned upon by society. 

“My source is solid. I just need to confirm the logistics of what the witness saw.”

“And your witness was a 13-year-old boy.” She confirmed, voice deadpan.

“Yes. A very scared boy who I’m not going to re-traumatize by bringing here.” Mendez was becoming insistent, pushing into her space. 

Mary begrudgingly uncrossed her arms, circling the dumpster pushed against the fence. It looked like it would give her a million diseases. She said her next words carefully; she wasn’t going to do this blind. 

“If you want me to climb up there, tell me what the angle is and who’s your source?”

“I can’t tell you my source-” Mendez didn’t meet her gaze. He looked almost ashamed, which was a look Mary didn’t realize was in his repertoire. “I can just say it’s good.”

“Naughty, naughty,” she imitated her father’s chiding, letting some of her accent come through. 

“It’s a necessary means to an end. I’m not trading insider secrets with criminals, and that should make you feel better.”

Mary snorted, “Daniel, I don’t care if you cut a deal. I’m just giving you flack.” She took off her badge and handed it to him as he ruffled his hair, making it stick up. 

“The kids are a witness to a potential mass trafficking event. My source was able to pin him to this general area where the alleged crimes happened. I offered to interview the boy … off the record.”

Mary clapped her hands, the sound echoing off the buildings, “Let me guess. He was messing around, maybe doing things kids shouldn’t be when he saw it happen. But you can’t clarify that unless you can confirm he was able to see over the fence.”

“Bingo for Hayes”

Mary could hear the waves crashing against the shore, and it was getting darker by the minute. The narrow space they stood in allowed a limited view of those entering. It would be even worse when they were both distracted. 

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she voiced her concern, “One problem.”

Mendez urged her to go on with a nod. 

“We’re in one of the more dangerous parts of town, and only one of us has a gun.”

“Mary, I hate to break it to you, no one is going to attack two cops before nightfall.” Her partner looked at her like she’d just told him the sky was pink. 

She didn’t blink for a solid five seconds before gesturing between them. They wore plain clothes, not a uniform. Mary, in her olive blouse and slacks, badge now hidden in his pocket. Mendez’s badge and gun could be seen, but it was offset by his red button-down and race car tie.

For lack of a better term, she looked like any other civilian getting off work, and Daniel, bless his heart, resembled what Big Bird would look like if someone gave him a Glock 19. 

Mendez pressed his lips together, nodding reluctantly, “Ok .. ok .. maybe they would. Especially in Gotham. Luckily, one of us did pass their firearms exam.”

Mary looked back at the dumpster, and he gave her a bright smile. 

“Which means you have no excuse not to go up there, Hayes.”

The next thing she knew, Mary had a lovely, and too close, in-person view of the other side of the divider. The bay yelled even louder as the waves arched up before hitting the shore. 

“What do you see?” Mendez asked, holding her legs steady from the other side, “Can you see a small red buoy on the water?”

The wall bit into her palms where she had her hands splayed, and the smell was as if fish had fallen into a chemical plant. She wanted to get down from here as soon as possible. Mary squinted, scanning the restless body of water before her eyes locked onto a red speck moving in tandem with the waves. 

“Mhmm. I can even make out the lettering on it.”

Her partner cheered from behind her, briefly letting go of her. Mary moved her foot, attempting to feel for the dumpster or anything else solid. 

“Is that all? I’ve told you everything, I’m coming down now.”

Mendez gave her the go-ahead, and she slowly put her foot in the slits of stone, lowering onto the dumpster with one knee. The disgusting, horrid, probably rat-infested thing decided to remember it had wheels at that exact moment and shifted under her. 

Mary fell. 

Hard. 

She groaned as the full force of her head slammed against the concrete, reverberating in her skull. She heard the trash can fall after her, and the faint sound of every pen in her pocket rolled to freedom. 

“Jesus, Mary, I am so sorry”, was Daniel’s immediate remorse-ridden response. 

She heard quiet footsteps make their way toward her, and she forced her eyes open to the two gloved hands held in front of her. Funnily enough, there were also two masked but smiling Dick Graysons swimming in her vision. 

Huh. 

“Dear God. Why are there two of you?” The words hurt to force out. Dick - no Nightwing, because when he wore that ridiculous outfit, he was Nightwing- had the audacity to chuckle. 

“That was quite the fall, Detective.” 

Mendez knelt beside her, grabbing a shoulder to sit her up. Dicks mouth kept twitching like he was holding in a laugh. This was mortifying. 

Windswept hair and mask a millimeter off from straight, Dick shook his hand, “Give me your hand, Hayes. We’ll help you up.”

Mary knit her eyebrows together, replying coolly, “I do not need your help, thank you very much.” She pushed herself onto her knees and then onto shaky legs. 

Daniel held his arms out. “You have to forgive our Mariam, Nightwing. We don’t let her out to interact with people often.”

Mary stumbled, her vision still blurry, “Everyone’s a comedian tonight.”

The vigilante winced, “You’ve got to get her checked out. If I could hear the impact from up where I was, she’s not okay.”

Mendez looked at her like he looked at the kids he interviewed, all big brown eyes and down-turned brows. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 

“Will do. Guess we’re going to file a workman’s comp, Mariam. Say hip hip hooray.” 

Mary wished she could glare at him, but everything was better with shut eyes. She let him lead her two steps before panic rushed past her shoulders and down to her feet. She stopped, and Daniel made a questioning noise.

“No.”

“No?” Came the response from both men.

“No. I’m not field certified. By technical standards, I’m not even supposed to be out here. So no.”

Mendez blew out a breath as he let out a warning, “Mary-” 

Mary shook her head adamantly. It was a poor choice considering what had just occurred. 

“No! You don’t understand the position I’m in. Gordon will chew me out if he doesn’t terminate me flat out.”

“Now Jim wouldn’t actually-”

“Can it, Nightwing,” she forced out through gritted teeth before continuing, “I’ll go to urgent care the second after I clock out.”

Mendez chewed the inside of his cheek before replying, “Hey, Miss. Prideful, you won’t even make it to the precinct to clock out.”

Mary shoved his arm off, set on demonstrating that yes, she would. She managed a few wobbly steps before he caught her under the arms like a baby. 

“I’ll get her checked out right now.”

Two pairs of eyes turned to question the vigilante still standing there, “We’ve got safehouses with medical equipment. If it’s bad, we’ll go from there. Have her clock out now.”

Mary gasped as Mendez opened her phone while stating that her twelve hours were up. Mary attempted to protest, but it was difficult from the embarrassing hold she was in. Her partner handed her off to Nightwing like a package, which was frankly rude, and Mary wiggled under the new grip. 

“You’re just going to leave your young female partner with a strange man!”

“I’m leaving you with a hero of the city who profiles as an upstanding individual.” He turned, giving the hero in question a stern expression, “If I don’t see her at work tomorrow morning, I will personally hunt you down.”

Dick responded by holding up three fingers, “Scout’s honor.” 

Mary watched with simmering anger as her partner walked away, blissfully unaware that he was leaving her in the alley with Richard Grayson. The same man she’d complained about to Mendez just that morning. 

She wanted to yell, but her head hurt. 

Really bad. 

Chapter Text

June 18th, 6:30 PM

Message Read 

GOTHAM CITY - BATFAMILY SAFEHOUSE

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

June 18th, 9:00 PM 

The safe house was not a safe home, Mary thought as Dick guided her to sit on one of the few available surfaces. It was sparse, gray, and incredibly dusty. The grain of the upside-down crate poked at her fingers as she brushed over it gently.

“You’re going to get in trouble.”

Dick played with something in his hands, visibly distracted, “No, I won’t. I already sent a word to B.”

The sentence made Mary suddenly very interested in a stain on the floor in the shape of … well, nothing really. 

“What did you say?” She finally dared to ask. 

“That I just watched Mary fall several feet, and I am going to check her for a concussion.” He looked up with a small smile, offering her a wink. 

That put more salt on her already wounded ego. She tracked his moving finger with her eyes. 

“Name. Hometown. Monster Study.”

“First part, yours or mine?”

“Hmm.” He thought for a moment, tilting his head, “Mine. You know he did say you could come to the manor.” 

“Richard John Grayson.” She placed her hands in her lap, examining her polish. It had survived both the climb and fall. “And no, he didn’t.”

Dick held a gloved thumbs-up, motioning for her to go on as he went back to his finicky medical device. 

“Nowelsland, Maryland”, she swung her legs, the movement helping against the growing brain fog as she answered the last question. “The Monster Study, was a 1939 psychology experiment often cited regarding its unethicality. It tested 22 orphans and studied stuttering.”

He pinched her cheek, and she swatted back, “Aw, so smart even with a probable concussion. Stay still for a sec.”

Cool metal pressed against her forehead for a moment before he cursed in disappointment and messed with the device again. 

“Okay, I lied, but Alfred did say you’re always welcome, and Bruce didn’t protest. But I didn’t want to subject you to Damian yet.

Quick fingers tugged at the elastic that was fighting to keep her braid together as Dick smacked the scanner on his thigh. She snatched it, turning it over in her hands. She certainly wasn’t an expert, but she flicked the loudly labeled on/off switch a few times anyway. 

“When has banging on the remote ever worked?” Mary grumbled as the device pinged, and she handed it back. “And I’ve met Damian.”

“My condolences,” Dick said with a smile as he finally managed to scan her throbbing head. 

“A little young to be the newest Robin, no? Mendez started keeping candy in his pockets in case he showed up at our sites.”

“That’s hilarious,” the man stood from his crouch, “He’s not the candy type of kid.” 

Mary felt her eyes crinkle—easy conversation and complaints about siblings. Like, years between them hadn’t flown by. Except that he was still wearing that off-center mask. 

“Well, you have a concussion. Probably didn’t need this to tell you that”, he held up the scanner as he rummaged through a cabinet, “You couldn’t even walk in a straight line.”

Mary rolled her eyes, redoing her braid. She didn’t even want to think of what could be in her hair at that moment. Probably grime and dirty, dirty remnants of bay water from previous flooding. 

“My poor hair”, she muttered, before graciously accepting the pills and water bottle. “Thanks, Dick.”

He watched her for a moment, the same feeling of nostalgia rushing over his features. She could see it in the way his lips slightly downturned and how he tapped his fingers on his knee. He always did so when he was conflicted. 

“No problem.” He slapped his gloved hands on his legs, replacing genuineness with that practiced smile, “Hey, you know you were right.”

Mary looked up where he stood. He’d need to elaborate; she was usually right. 

“About Bruce being on edge. The text you sent a couple of months back?”

“Oohh”, Mary nodded just slightly, “Yeah, anyone with eyes could tell that. I watched him beat the daylights out of a couple of guys.” 

She stretched her neck, adding, “Usually when he escalates, it means something’s amiss with one of you guys. He’s always surprisingly calm with catastrophic events, though.”

“That’s just how he is. He’s been dealing with-”

”The same thing we’ve all been dealing with for the past four years.” Mary declared the words a little definitively. 

Dick tensed at her self-assured tone, finally peeling off the mask. His blue eyes were set with warning. 

Don’t overstep, Mariam. 

Mary didn’t blink, taking in a shallow breath. She refused to be the first to look away. 

“I used to babysit him, Dick. I can’t not care.” The sentence was clipped in an attempt to be the last word. 

Dick ran a hand over his face, as if it were the only solace he could get. “Jesus, Mare, can we not have this conversation now?”

She raised an eyebrow, eyes growing cold. Any hint of banter had been drained out of them. One question lingered in the air. 

Then why are you here? 

“I’m doing damage control. Like I always do.” Dick pushed back his hair, slightly damp from the heat, “Jay’s messing with the police to get a rise out of Bruce, and he got one.”

There was a beat, at then Mary raised her brows, practically simmering with satisfaction. His face fell as he realized he’d said just a bit too much. It was easy to get him to do so, especially if one said nothing. 

Dicks hand went over his face once more before forcing his attention on her. A finger pointed right at her smug expression. “You always do this. Why do you always - it’s a nasty habit.”

“Well, you aren’t any better. You know you haven’t gotten better.”

If he was trying to use that fake smile on her, then she couldn’t even imagine what he was like in public. Was there any real part of him around, or had he parceled it off to everyone who needed him? Everyone, including ghosts, he felt he owed.

She said just as much, and he stood quickly, pacing around the small empty room. His boots crunched on the dust and outside debris brought into space. The mask was still in his right hand. 

“I barely know you anymore.”

There had once been a time when a day couldn’t go by and they didn’t speak. Always something to say, something to mention. Now they were practically strangers held together by a shared secret. And he was trying, truly, trying, and both of them knew that. 

“The worst part is it wouldn’t be as bad if I didn’t know you as the person you were.”

Who had she been? 

A transplant. A bright poster child of Gotham U’s success? A shining star? She was still a star, she thought bitterly. One who barely slept, but a star nonetheless. Mary moved her concentration back to the stain, and he noticed. 

“You used to be my friend. My friend, who used to care enough to write my papers for me while I was offworld. Now you barely look at me.” Dicks voice rose in frustration. 

Oh, so now that she was no longer of use .. 

“And whose fault is that?” she snapped back 

“Ours! It’s -”, he cracked in his exterior, emotions flooding, finger tapping faster, “People mutually mess up all the time. They don’t just decide to turn into strangers. 

“Delete my number.”

“You first.” 

Blue met gray. They both knew they’d keep picking up those calls. In case one of them was a ledge, or bleeding out, or needed help in any capacity. It was a line neither would cross. 

“I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” was Dicks dejected response. He looked at her like it was a kindness to allow her to distance herself from his family. 

“Shut up. I love your family, even if you wish I didn’t. If I see him, I’ll tell you, and if the kid needs a couch-”

Mary held up a hand, stopping him from interrupting. There was no room for disagreement; she wouldn’t in a million years leave someone on the streets.

“Mariam, don’t harbor a former wanted man.”

She shifted her eyes to the left, running a finger on the edge of the now-empty glass. Dick let out a long breath of air, moving to be in her line of sight again. 

“Has he ever been …” he let the words teeter off. 

Mary raised an eyebrow, gathering back her usual attitude, “I plead the fifth.”

Her expression was dead serious. He couldn’t help it. He laughed, the sound reverberating in his chest. He was still pissed as all hell, but he couldn’t stop it.

Mary pursed her lips, hiding her smile, shoulders shaking with mirth. 

“This is such a mess”, she flipped her phone to check the time, “And I’ve still got cold cases to look over at home.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, mimicking her usual expression, “Not with that headache.”

“No rest for the wicked.” She shrugged, moving to stand. Time had helped make the ground much more solid. 

He sighed, moving to remove his gloves, “Give me ten. I’ll take you to Gladstone’s and read it for you.”

“That’s unnecessary.” Mary crossed her arms, playing with her hair. She’d planned to shower immediately and possibly book a deep clean with her stylist. 

“I did promise to force you outside while I was in town. It’ll be like old times.”

“Ten minutes.” He held up both hands and pointed to the emblem on his chest.

Chapter Text

November 28th, 7:40 PM

Hey! Running late from lab, be there in ten. 

GOTHAM CITY - GLADSTONE DINER

FRESHMAN YEAR - DICK 

NOVEMBER 28th, 8:00 PM

Gladstones was never packed on a Friday, for the very obvious reason that it was a Friday. There were a million better things to do to start the weekend. But here he was squandering his first patroless, missionless, and generally normal night he’d had in months. 

Dick sat in the corner booth, tapping his pencil against his notebook. His coffee had a strange oily sheen that put him off from trying it. 

He looked up as the door jingled once more, and a flurry of pink scarf and snow-covered hair entered. Mary wiped her boots on the mat before weaving her way over to him, immediately frowning at his coffee. 

“Do you want me to take that up for you when I order?”

“They’re making your drink right now.” He flicked at her wrist as she tried to reach for her wallet to pay him back. “It’s fine, I’ll drink it.”

Mary shook her head, her expression clear as day, she thought he was far too nice. 

“I’m starved. Do you want fries?”

She came back a few minutes later, two coffees and a plate of food in hand. She handed him his new mocha with fresh creamer. Slipping into the seats across from him, she peeled off her wet scarf and coat. While distracted, Dick reached over to grab her machiatto, swirling it. For once, she might not ask for an extra pump of caramel. 

“Sorry, Dr. Bircham and I stayed later because a piece of equipment was acting stupid. You did get to miss me wielding around a comically large wrench.” 

He grinned, leaning back in his seat. The screen on his computer was going dark, and he moved the cursor. “A damn shame. What are you doing in a psych lab with a wrench?”

Mary dipped her fry in ketchup, happily announcing, “Heart rate monitor. Observations on physical responses to recalling rouge trauma.”

She popped the food in her mouth, eyes glittering with pride. 

“Math?”

Her face dropped instantly, and she groaned, “Lots of it. I’ll gladly do your ab-psych homework if you look at the raw data.”

He held out a hand, and they quickly shook on it before she moved to pull out her things. 

“Speaking of, did you see Bircham in lecture today?

Mary shook her head as she logged into her laptop, fingers flying over the keys, “The man’s brilliant but a mess. Happy to say that I did bully him into grading our exams faster.”

Dick rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to be there to know that the professor had instantly lost to the insulting complaints of the Barbie-doll freshman who’d likely been waving around a wrench as she spoke. At least they’d have their grades back by this century. 

“You’re a true hero of our times.”

Mary looked up, freckled nose scrunched. She tilted her chin to the deep gash in his hairline. The reason he’d been benched. 

“No thanks”, was all she said as she turned to her computer. His phone flashed as several emails from her popped onto the screen. “All your missed lectures from your time away. Everything is dated and rewritten, but if you can’t understand something, let me know. I have audio files from the classes, too.”

He couldn’t help the gratitude that bloomed in his chest. For someone so competitive, Mary had always been incredibly generous with her notes, and tutoring, and study sessions. For that, he’d owe her his firstborn. 

She pulled her hair to the side as she shook her shoulders like a runner in preparation for a meet before turning to their assigned chapter. She looked back at his wound, watching with perceptive eyes. He couldn’t be certain of what she was seeing, just the fact that it was more than most. 

“How’s your head?”

Dick winced, “Feels like I just got jumped by a maniac.” Sadly, that wasn’t too far off, but he’d tell her in private later. 

Mary clenched her teeth into a sympathetic smile before reaching over and shutting his laptop, “Go home.”

He shook his head. And she hovered her body over the fries to close his notebook too. 

“Go. Home”, she punctuated the words with a wagging finger, “Go to sleep. Don’t spend the night here for a test that’s three weeks away.”

“I thought you said that’s the best way to study.”

“I’m neurotic. Go home.”

Dick remained stubbornly in his seat. If he wanted to go home, he wouldn’t be here every Friday. He’d be out making the most of his college career, but he liked Gladstones and he liked her company. 

“I’m good, Hayes. 

“Richard”, the young woman warned. 

“Mariam”, he replied, reopening his notebook. 

Mary huffed in defeat, turning back to her laptop, “Fine.”

He looked up through his lashes, certain she was not conceding.

“Then this has just turned into my personal lecture hall. You put this upon yourself, hearing me read aloud for hours.”

And she hadn’t lied. It was well past midnight when both of them threw in the towel. She’d somehow kept him focused enough to stay there for the entire chapter on memory retention. A fries-less red diner plate and two empty mugs of coffee sat between them.

Dicks notebook remained untouched, besides a few sparse notes. He’d spent the hours fully listening to Mary instead. The girl had sat with her back to the wall, legs stretched out onto her seat, textbook never leaving her hands. His own feet had found their way across and onto her side of the booth. 

It hadn’t been much of a punishment. Her voice was pleasant, low, with just the slightest rural twang on certain words. And she read quickly. 

Now she wound her scarf over her neck, steps in tandem with his as they walked to her car. The sound of an out-of-control party could be heard from where they stood. He could be there right now. He could be in bed or out with friends, or helping Bruce. 

Mary’s car sputtered and then drove off. He gave a quick wave goodbye, reaching for his keys. 

He could be anywhere. 

But he didn’t mind squandering his Friday nights with her. 

GOTHAM CITY - GLADSTONE DINER

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

JUNE 18th, 10:00 PM

The night hadn’t done much to help with the sticky heat plaguing the city. Dick complained as he held open the diner door. 

Mary rolled her eyes. “Welcome to the hell we’ve been living in. Is it not blazing in Bludhaven?”

“It’s a bad summer, but it’s not this.”

She made her jealousy clear as they approached the counter. In the seven years they’d been going to Gladstones, not much had changed beyond getting better registers. The dark green booths hadn’t been altered, minus a few upholstered patches, and the vintage ads on the walls were untouched. 

It was practically a living time capsule for their lost sanity during Dick’s brief stint at Gotham U. Furthermore, it was empty at this hour like it always had been. 

“Iced caramel macchiato and a mocha. Hot with vanilla cream, please”, Mary offered a polite smile at the young brunette who typed in the order slowly. 

She looked over to Dick. He’d changed into a hoodie that he now kept his hands deep inside. They truly made a pair, with her business casual and his model off-duty charm. He caught her eye before leaning forward, flashing a curated expression at the girl behind the counter. 

“And any extra almond croissants if you haven’t thrown them out yet.”

The girl looked up, face giddy, nodding quickly, “Yeah, for sure. On the house.”

Typical. 

Mary stepped on his foot, the action hidden from view by the counter. He elbowed her back. 

“That’ll be eight-fifty.”

Dick made a move for the scanner, and Mary placed a hand over it, narrowing her eyes at the barista. 

“Don’t you dare take his money.”

“Uhhh” 

“Take my twenty and keep the rest as a tip.”

The girl stared, the loading symbol still turning in her brain. She was about to reach for the cash in Dicks hand when Mary tapped her card on the reader. 

“Receipt, please.” 

Dick frowned, handing over the cash anyway. He turned to what had been their usual booth, sitting down as they waited. Mary leaned against the table with one hip, mentally calculating when she could take pain meds again. 

“So”, the dark-haired man rapped on the table, “How’s work?”

“Swell.”

She made a popping noise with her mouth, picking at a crack on the table. Dick hated forced silences. She let the quiet that followed linger just long enough to make him squirm before continuing. 

“I’ve got a missing 17-year-old with two murdered parents. Some nasty mutilation work, but nothing I can use to justify the case as needing a profiler.”

He nodded, clearly analyzing her words. Their order was called, and Mary made the short trip to grab it, shaking her coffee. 

“We’ve got a couple of murders on my end as well. 3 teenagers. We made an arrest for one recently.”

Mary took one sip and turned back to the counter, as usual, to ask for a few more pumps of syrup. The barista obliged, happy to turn away from their gloomy conversation. 

“Any markings on them? Signs of replication, connected MO, ritualism.” Her eyes slitted as she tried to recall what she’d read in the news, “Or does it seem unconnected?”

“I didn’t get to see the bodies, just chased the guy down.” He gave a quick thanks as she laid a croissant next to his cup upon returning.“There were some rumors that there might be similar wounds connecting them. But besides the fact that they were young .. not much.”

Mary sighed, sharing in his losses, “I went to see the scene for my abduction. There was such a lack of control, so much blood. And Mendez is dead set on finding this kid, but all the evidence points to her playing a direct role.”

Dick pointed to her bag with the cold cases, and she waved him off. Not tonight. She was finishing her drink and heading home to a long shower. 

“So if you rule out serial, could it bounce to him if there’s enough evidence it’s an underage killer?”

“It’s more likely a regular detective will just call him in for the psych eval afterwards. Mary shrugged. Navigating the who-got-what case became incredibly tricky when it was an interesting one. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie. 

“Do you guys do that?”

“We do everything at this point. GCPD’s on a trajectory to be hyper independent.”

He laughed, ripping her a piece of croissant. Mary gladly took it, she hadn’t eaten in hours. Wiping fingers against a napkin, she nodded in thanks. 

“I appreciate the help, but I think I’m going to call it a night. It’s not like you have time to dedicate to this.”

He shook his head, and she could tell he wanted to call her out. There had never been a moment since knowing each other that she’d called it a night. The dosage of melatonin she took was practically criminal, and lately, even that wasn’t working. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He questioned as she resisted his tugging on her bag.

“That we’re both busy. Don’t tell me you’re planning on debriefing what you read.”

The look on his face was practically a pout. It was bordering on pathetic. 

“I could. Let me take something off your plate.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. They were closing in on a very dangerous song and dance. One that would allow contact beyond this time capsule. Beyond a screen. 

“No.”

“Mary”

Despite herself, she racked her brain for the right words, the ones that would sting, “You’re not the only one who can refuse help.”

He opened his mouth to interrupt. There was tension in his face, hiding a slight headache and bags under his eyes. Dick hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d been up early for a family meeting.

And if Mary had to venture, he’d probably spent the rest of the day looking after family he hadn’t seen in weeks. 

“Let me go, golden boy.”

There was a clink as cup met plate. The look on his face could only be described as pure disappointment. 

“Did I not ask you for help today with Jason?”

“You shouldn’t have.” Her voice was softer with the realization that she was slightly out of line. 

His finger bounced, his eyes looked heavy. She’d almost worn him down. And then he turned the tables by smiling. 

“What gave you that impression, Hayes?”

She felt her nose twitch and looked down at him from where she stood. The smile was infuriating. 

“You, Richard,” She mimicked his smile, all bared teeth with no emotion in the eyes. 

Checkmate. 

Dick glared at her before finally managing to spit out, “Give me the files,” and snatching her bag. 

She watched him mutter as he snapped photos of her case. This was certainly illegal. Arms crossed, she tried to locate the barista, but the girl had already gone to the back.

“I spend my whole morning listening to Bruce drone on about care when working with the GCPD, Jason’s over here buying out cops, and I can’t even get a yes from the detective I have a reason to work with.” 

He said the words incredibly quietly, more to himself than her. He shoved the files back into her hands with finality. 

She could’ve continued to argue, dug her heels in, and kept hurling insults. But the damage was done. It wasn’t like she could steal his phone and delete the pictures. 

“Poor Jason.” She straightened the stack, putting it back into her leather tote.

“He almost deserved it.”

Mary shook her cup, mostly ice at this point, “You’ll let me know if you see any connections?”

“I’ll text you at the first sign,” Dick replied in earnest.

She held her hand out, reluctantly, “Let me know if you want second eyes on those Bludhaven murders.”

GOTHAM CITY - CRIME ALLEY

PRESENT DAY - DICK 

JUNE 18th, 11:00 PM

“Finally found you.”

“Only cause I let ya”

Dick sat on the roof’s ledge next to Jason, who moved to remove his helmet. They didn’t make eye contact. They didn’t speak. 

He’d been right about his earlier assumption. None of them could avoid the pull of patrol, and eventually their paths had crossed. It was just much later than Dick originally intended. 

“You see Hayes fall off that fence?” Jason broke the quiet, smirking.

“So you were at the bay”, Dick placed a hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement, “And that wasn’t funny.”

Jason raised a brow, making it clear he had seen everything. The older brother shook his head, and the silence returned. 

“Be careful with your police sources.”

“Obviously”, Jason groaned, “You know I am. My guy in the GCPD is clean.”

“Singular? I recall you using plural this morning.” Dick hooked an arm over his knee, messing with his comm with the other. 

A barking laugh was followed by, “That’s just to give the old man extra grays.”

“I’m being serious.” Dick reached over to punch his leather-covered shoulder

Jason moved to punch him back, “It’s Mary’s partner.”

“Excuse me.”

“He’s a former FBI agent, used to handling classified information, and Hayes already assured me he’s squeaky.”

Dick watched a twinkling neon sign off in the distance that was on its last leg. He’d thought Mary had cut herself off from every part of Gotham up until recently. But clearly, her world had remained connected to the city and people in it. 

It was just him she’d attempted to sever. 

“I didn’t realize you talked to Mary.”

“She’s good people. And if she says someone’s clean, I’m trusting it. You know how she is.”

His tone was resolute. Just because Dick had drifted from her didn’t mean that Jason had forgotten his older brother’s best friend. He’d been twelve, always insisting on following them, and Mary had obliged. Each time she’d bought him a red Slurpee from Al’s convenience. 

Had she even batted an eye when the boy came back from the dead? Or had she opened her door to something a little more red and simply offered up her couch? 

Dick shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “You checked the lower part of the Alley yet?

“Yeah.”

He stood, cracking his neck, and held a hand out to Jason, who pushed it aside. 

“Wanna see if the others want anything from Al’s ?”

Chapter Text

June 19th, 4:56 AM

I even had Bruce look at your Dyson case (don’t yell at me). He thinks it’s run of the mill. 

I did get one connection from my research—an older case from Metropolis.

Sending you the article right now.

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM HEIGHTS

SOPHOMORE YEAR - JASON

FEBRUARY 1st, 3:12 PM

He’d reached the point of the Slurpee where it was just a couple of blocks of flavorless ice. The boy attempted to break the chunk and then made a loud slurping noise, earning him a glare from his visiting brother. 

“We’re not going to take you out again if you keep doing that.”

Jason sneered back at Dick, turning to the figure next to them. Mary looked down from where she was watching a couple argue across the street and winked. He wasn’t about to be left out any time soon. 

“How long do you think they’ve been fighting?” She had her hand loosely over her mouth, squinting. 

Dick scratched his head, “I could hear them a block away… so at least a few minutes.”

“I meant in general.” Mary reached over to elbow him. “It couldn’t have been long. She just threw that promise ring at him, and there’s a tan line.”

Jason squinted, standing on his toes between the two wannabe adults. He brushed his bangs out of his face with a cold hand. 

“Must’ve been a few days. Boyfriend looks like he hasn’t slept.” Dick tapped his ring finger, “You think it’s cause of the lack of karats.”

“Oh, definitely, their behavior says they’ve been together too long not to be married.”

Jason sighed, tugging on Mary’s bright blue sweater. She looked back down at his questioning frown.

“How do you know it’s a promise ring?” He felt himself getting shoved by the shoulders as Dick forced him to start walking again.

“It’s not nice to stare, Jay.”

Jason couldn’t make any noise for a moment, appalled, “So it’s ok when you-.”

Mary took mercy on him, talking rapidly, “They’re in their early thirties, in a nice home, in a nicer part of Gotham. She’s worn the ring long enough to get a tan in it, plus there was a bit of swelling when she took it off.”

She continued, snatching Jason’s empty cup, to throw it in the trash as they walked by.

“It’s the same design as the promise rings high schoolers usually wear. Meaning it’s pretty old and hasn’t been upgraded despite their time together.” 

Jason nodded, giving Dick a pointed glare, “Thank you, Hayes.”

Dick brushed off the boy’s middle school pettiness, ruffling his hair. He turned back when he realized Mary hadn’t started walking again. 

“You good, M?” 

Mary raised one hand, now covered in sticky red.

In his short time as Robin, even he knew it was fake blood. And even if Jason didn’t, the rigged water squirter was now visible on the trash can. 

“Ugh, this is so disgusting”, Mary peered into the neighboring cafe looking for an ‘available restroom’ sign. “When you become a teenager, don’t ever pull stupid pranks like these. I’m just glad I realized in time before it squirted my face.” 

A red finger pointed at Jason before the woman headed into the cafe. 

Jason turned slowly to Dick and grinned. His brother gave him a go-ahead nod, and Jason cupped his hands over his mouth to scream back:

“No promises!” 

BLUDHAVEN CENTRAL HOSPITAL

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 20th, 8:30 PM

Bludhaven Central smelled like bleach. It looked like bleach, too, all pristine walls and white coated doctors. Everything was quick and orderly, including the tiny charge nurse currently leading Nightwing down the hall. If her quick pace and speech were any indication, she ran the ER department like a sergeant. 

“I’m sure it’s nothin’. Some kid pulled a similar prank on us last year with a pig’s heart and Kool-Aid, but I don’t get paid enough to clean a mess like that.”

Her jet black hair was pulled tightly to her scalp, as if she’d been grabbed by one too many irate patients and wouldn’t dare risk it again. She rounded a corner quickly, and Dick followed, his black and blue out of place against the white. 

“The guy on security is really green. And one of our girls saw you outside at the same time the police said it would be a few hours.”

Meaning that it had fallen on the city’s vigilantes to handle a prank. Which was fine, totally fine, it wasn’t like he had murders and robberies and gangs to check up on. 

He offered the nurse, Jenny, if he remembered correctly, a smile, “No worries, whole city’s in my scope of practice.”

Nurse Jenny did not laugh. 

He coughed, “Anyways, you’re letting me stretch my legs before-” Dick was forced to stop. 

Bright red pooled from the utility closet, the color of cherry juice. He sniffed. A sweet scent wafted over the persistent bleach, some sort of fruit drink. Eyes rolled back into his head as he reached for the handle. 

“Aces, that’s just overkill.”

“Second year, they’ve done this. Still not funn-”

The woman’s scream pierced the hospital floor, bouncing off the walls as a female body, folded into itself, fell forward. 

Dick was still holding onto the handle as one of her mottled, pale hands landed on top of his boot. 

GOTHAM CITY - MENDEZ RESIDENCE

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 20th, 9:30 PM

“And then she went krsssshhhhgg splat!” Mendez finished off with a clicking noise as he stood arms wide, “Those are supposed to be her pens scattering.”

The theatrics of his reenactment of her fall earlier that week earned him a light smack from his wife, who instantly moved to smother Mary. With the woman’s strong arms around her, Mary watched her partner.

His performances were usually just that, a performance for laughter, but his jaw was too tense at the moment, and he kept checking his phone. Which meant right now, he was doing this to distract himself. 

“Oh my poor baby!”, Valeria Mendez, still in her navy scrubs, patted her head, “How do you feel now? Head still hurt? You should’ve come see me!” 

Mary picked at her chicken despite the constraint of the woman’s arms. One of Val’s many Daisy Awards poked her, and she tried to shift the weight off.

“They wouldn’t have sent me to your peds floor anyway, Val.”

The woman pouted, “I would’ve come to see you! And made sure you got the right labs. Who knows what that Nightwing did!” 

Mary grimaced. What Nightwing had done was bring up years of unresolved tension.

“My love, give Mary space.”

Val let go, and the couple stood on the opposite side of their brightly colored kitchen. The scent of bright pink peonies on the little island intermingled with spiced cooking. Mary rested her head in her hands as she pushed the food around, watching the couple bicker. If she had time this week between the stylist and work, she’d have to pick up some lilacs for her own apartment. 

“You expecting a call for the Dyson case?”

“Mhmmm. Any luck on the cold case research?”

Mendez’s question earned him another smack from Val. She hated it when he talked about work at home. He responded by pulling the curly-haired woman into an embrace. 

Mary finished chewing, “Yeah …, it’s a stretch, but there was a similar instance of mutilation in Metropolis over a year ago.”

She’d thanked Dick profusely when he’d sent her the one connection the Bat-computer could get off the information he’d stolen from her. Despite her behavior at Gladstones, he’d really come through. 

Mendez held his mouth agape for a moment before asking, “Numbers?”

“You could call it numbers. There was something inscribed on the leg. It could be an 89 or a 39. But I’d seriously be grasping for straws if I said the two cases were connected.”

The marks on the Metropolis victim had been too messy to match those on Carolyn Dyson. Plus, he’d been male with no family. Mendez might believe her, but the rest of the department would think she was crazy for even thinking of spending resources going to Metropolis for seemingly unrelated crimes.

“You got anything?” she aimed the question back at her partner. 

“Lord, can we not talk about this over my cooking?” Val picked up Mary’s empty plate.

“Well, your cooking is gone now.”

Val didn’t hold back. She smacked her husband for the third time. 

“They found Kate Dyson.”

There was a screech as Mary stood quickly, hands pressed to the table. She held her breath. She’d been off one day. One single day, because her uncle had decided to get too close to a falling tree. This is why she never took days off.

“Alive? Where? When? I can come with you to see her right now.”

This was an insane turn of bad luck. The only reason she was at the Mendez’s place was to catch up on what she missed. She’d had no service driving to and from the family farm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this right away!” She hated how childish she sounded, as her voice rose. Mary stopped herself, taking a few deep breaths.

Opposite the room, Mendez was a picture of calm, brows close together as he explained. 

“She was found dead an hour ago in a closet at Bludhaven Central Hospital. Forensics says the time of death is at least two days ago. I couldn’t tell you because I’m waiting for Lawrence to finish arguing with Gordon to get us priority on the case.”

“Any sign of entry? Camera footage?” Mary already knew the answer to her dreaded question 

“None, just like at the Dyson house. It’s like our unsub doesn’t exist.”

“Or blends in very well.”

She closed her eyes as her blood ran cold. It felt like she was ten again, watching sleek black cars drive past her home. Except now she was one of the profilers in the driver’s seat. 

Her reminiscing was broken by the sound of two phones ringing. 

Mendez stepped out of the room. 

Mary opened her eyes, her hands twitched as her screen flashed in front of her, before answering the call. 

BLUDHAVEN CENTRAL HOSPITAL

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 20th, 10:15 PM

Tires screeched outside the hospital. Amid the sea of Bludhaven Police, the clean lettering of ‘GCPD’ stood out as four figures quickly made their way through the ER entrance. 

Dick stood next to one of the first detectives on the scene, going over the findings of the body once more. He offered a joking salute as Gordon walked straight towards Bludhaven’s Commissioner. 

Chief Profiler Harold Lawrence pushed past a few seconds later, followed by a smaller figure. “I want to speak to the head of this case. Immediately.”

“Be polite, Harry”, came a defeated male voice from the entrance. 

The detective that Dick had been speaking to cursed, unhappy with the Gotham presence. He was forced to step aside when the shortest Gotham officer weaved between them. 

Somehow, Lawrence had convinced not one, but two city commissioners that his profiling team’s presence was warranted. Maybe it was, but that information usually indicated the need for federal support. Dick couldn’t help but wonder what nasty tricks the old crank had pulled to get them to call off the FBI.

He paused, counting heads. Gordon, Lawrence, the tall, dark-haired man at the entrance with his back turned. 

If Dick had to venture by the brightly colored clothes that the hidden man was Mendez, which meant the figure that had pushed past was …

Her. 

He took a deep breath. He had a really good idea of who the deceased teenager on the floor was now. He’d spent a night looking over her mother’s murder case and its link to unsolved crimes. 

Kate Dyson 

He turned around to the closet where Mary was now crouched down beside Kate, her braid falling over one shoulder. She was quickly pulling on a pair of gloves, searching for something. 

Dick moved to crouch beside her, and she ignored him, gray eyes scanning back and forth as she lifted Kate’s limp arm. She was mouthing something, barely imperceptible.

“39, 50, 17 … 17 … 39 … 50”

She set the arm down, going to the other. Mendez came to stand behind both of them, giving Nightwing a nod. 

“She’s got a one-track mind for this sort of thing.” The man looked torn apart, as if it were his own kid that had died. Mendez’s eyes were red, and he wore no tie, only a wrinkled orange button-down. 

Dick nodded, conveying understanding as much as he could with the mask. In reality, he knew it was how she operated. When something was important to Mary, she zoned out, giving it her undivided attention. 

He watched her move to the exposed parts of Kate’s legs before snapping her attention up to the neck. Dick waited with bated breath.

What are you thinking, Mariam? 

Signature. She was thinking signature. Because of what they’d found on Carolyn Dyson’s arm. A carved fifty. Whoever the killer was had to be marking victims. Not out of emotion but out of compulsion. The need to note their ages to be satisfied with the kill. 

But with different cases, sexes, ages, and cities … who would have seen it until now? 

He looked back over to Mary, watching her side profile. She’d stopped whispering. Her nose twitched just once. She must have come in a hurry because her smattering of freckles was on display. No time to put on foundation, which meant she was doing this on the fly. 

“One.”

No one acknowledged her statement besides the two men next to her. Mary didn’t seem to notice as she ran a finger over the deep gash on the side of Kate’s neck.

“I mark my victims with their age. I need to because it’s part of the ritual. She’s one. Because she wasn’t the right age. I don’t want a seventeen, I need a different number.”

“She wasn’t eighteen!” 

Dick shuddered, remembering the screams of the arrested man from a few days ago. 

Mary stood, pulling off the gloves and rubbing a hand over her mouth. The action smudged the gloss she had on. She looked down, just now noticing the crouching vigilante beside her. 

“Hi”, she sounded far away, as if she was still in the head of someone else. 

“Hi, stranger”, Dick straightened and pushed her gently to the side, allowing Mendez to take a look in peace. Now they just needed to wait on the medical examiner. 

“Can I see Bludhaven’s teenage murder cases?”

Unknowingly, her train of thought had followed his almost to a T. 

He met her gaze, and she looked through him.

“Detective Hayes, I’ll see what I can do.” Dick leaned forward as if to shake her hand. A gloved hand held her warm palm. 

“Hold off until the morning, and I can get you an interview”, he whispered in her ear. 

Chapter Text

June 21st, 4:00 AM

Dad, can you talk?

BLUDHAVEN - BCPD PRECINCT

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 21ST, 4:30 AM

“I need your help.”

The desk creaked as Dick hopped up onto it. Just five minutes into their shift and Officer Rohrbach already looked displeased with him. At least she pretended to with her stoic expression and constant eye rolls. A learned defense of being a woman in a boys club, more than actual annoyance at her pretty boy partner.

“Am I going to like what you ask?” Amy questioned cautiously, swallowing her sip of coffee and setting the mug onto the edge of the desk. Dick pushed it back with one finger. After working with her for three years, he knew she was going to hate the next words coming out of his mouth.

“I need you to get Smith to bring in the guy we booked last week.”

“Ha.” Amy crossed her feet as she pretended to mull over the words. It would take more convincing than that to get her to discuss anything with Smith. Dick didn’t blame her; the detective had a well-earned reputation of being a tool. “You’re funny.”

“I know you two dated!”

Amy leaned back from the accusatory point, “When we were rookies. Which doesn’t matter because you have no reason to be questioning anyone. You’re not a detective.”

Dick smiled, covering up the pinch of annoyance. He already did enough detective work as is. Being a plain-Jane officer for eight hours of his day was the most relaxation he got. Neighborhood patrols, the occasional chase, protecting and serving. This job meant not having to use every single muscle and neuron in his brain while also being behind a mask. The only caveat was moments like these, when his nightlife and day job collided.

“I’ll owe you. Anything you want.” He waggled his eyebrows at the bribe. Amy did not take it, pushing herself out of the chair and down the hall to the motor pool.

“That doesn’t work on me, Daddy’s money.”

Dick had long since proven that he’d passed the academy on his own merit and not the Wayne name. The preconceived notion that he was some rich kid didn’t hold weight when said rich kid didn’t go by his father’s last name and possessed innate talent. Amy still liked to use the rumor against him.

“Listen”, he followed persistently despite the scowl forming on his partner’s face. She hated early shifts, and she hated them more when he was overly perky. Which was way too often for her liking. “Any moment now, two Gotham profilers are going to walk through that door. They’re almost certain that Shelling has something to do with deaths spanning the two cities.”

Promising Mary an interview with Shelling was something he wasn’t about to back out on. Firstly, because he rarely broke a promise. Secondly, because he knew as much as Mary did that there was a genuine thread between Shelling’s victims and the Dysons. There was no chance the markings were random. And thirdly, because he wanted in on the case as Nightwing, and this would force Mary to owe him. There was an itching fourth reason that he refused to acknowledge at this very moment.

Amy’s face turned murderous. She grabbed him by the collar, and Dick let her pull him into one of the empty conference rooms. “Care to share how you know this?” She had both hands on her hips like she was lecturing a child.

Dick got of sense of déjà vu as he explained his connection to Mary again, “I went to school with one of them. She’ll be the one who’s rude to everyone. You’ll love her.” The older officer’s face did not soften.

“We spoke when she got to town last night. Don’t look at me like that, that’s not breaking any rules.”

“And you promised her an interview.” Amy read between the lines. “This is why you shouldn’t make promises.”

“Amy, I can’t get Smith to bring him here, but you can.”

The woman stared him down with dark eyes, tapping her foot before pulling out her phone. “We’re going to have a discussion about you sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong. You’re not a detective, Grayson.” She stressed the phrase for the second time. “This rookie profiler of yours better be good.”

Dick folded his arms behind his back, leaning forward and beaming at the irony. Mary was anything but a rookie; she’d been in the profiling game long enough now to lose the title.

“You’re the best partner a boy good ask for, Rohrbach. You make me feel so safe and welcome, and loved.”

“Get out of my face. You owe me for this.” She made a mildly disgusted expression at whatever Smith had texted her back, “I hope this promise of yours is worth it.”

BLUDHAVEN

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 21st, 5:00 AM

The cup in her hands said, “Bludhaven runs on Watt Energy,” and Mary really hoped it was true.

They’d left the hospital scene at 3:30 in the morning, Mendez exhausted and her buzzing with thoughts. Currently, they had about an hour before sunrise. If Daniel drove his usual breakneck speed, they could be back at the Bludhaven police department before 5:30. Hopefully, with a murderer already there for them to question.

Mary had spent the almost two hours between unable to sleep. She’d paced, going over case details until Mendez had thrown a pillow in her general direction and told her to go back to her own room.

Now the man was already waiting for her by the car, his clothes were rumpled, and he held a hotel coffee in one hand. A free hand massaged his temples as he gave her a once-over. Bouncy, blown-out hair, makeup covering her exhaustion, and a ridiculously bright pink ombre drink.

“I really hate you sometimes.”

With no one to talk to, Mary had been reduced to speaking with her reflection as she played salon. When there had been nothing left to beautify, she’d called her father back in Maryland. He’d been up preparing to check the trees like he had her entire life. At some point in her musings, she’d found an iron in the suite’s closet and put it to good use. Her burgundy blouse didn’t have a single crease in it.

“I could’ve done your clothes if you hadn’t kicked me out,” Mary replied as she entered the vehicle.

She regretted the drink, ten minutes later, as she left the car nauseous. Sugary energy didn’t mix well with high velocity, and Mendez drove worse on unfamiliar roads. She dumped the cup into the trash and followed the man inside, suddenly becoming very aware of why it was a pleasure to work at GCPD Headquarters.

A balding detective who introduced himself as Darnell Smith led the two past rows of desks to a small corner room. The glorified supply closet was all the city of Bludhaven was willing to spare to the Gotham presence. Someone must have wagered that the likelihood of the profilers complaining about it was low. Mary wished Gordon and Lawrence hadn’t left hours ago because the wager was right. She wasn’t about to run off to call them like a child getting the worst blanket at a sleepover.

Hands tightly clasped behind her back, Mary tilted her head at the tiny white board. It wouldn’t be able to hold all the information they needed. In fact, it would barely fit the maps of Gotham, Bludhaven, and Metropolis she’d printed out for the geographic profile.

“You’re very lucky people. We managed to pull this up after your last-minute visit … FPCP’s?” The man’s voice teetered off as he read the acronym on their name tags. Mendez sucked in a breath, and Mary looked off to the side. The confused response never failed to be slightly humiliating

“Detective or Profiler works just fine … Hayes and I respond to both.”

“As long as our boss isn’t around.”

“He’s particular about the acronym.”

“Ah.” Smith scratched at his chin, leaning against one of the chairs in an action he assumed was suave. It wasn’t. “We also thought it was a good idea to bring in Conrad Shelling for you. Thought there might be some connection.”

Mary fought the urge to roll her eyes. Smith was the type of man who enjoyed being on top, even if that meant playing off the ideas of others’ like they were his own. Mendez might be unaware of who had pulled the strings, but she did.

“Hold off until morning, and I can get you an interview.”

Dick had leaned close as he’d whispered the words, and Mary had to force the nostalgia down. It reminded her too much of boring lecture halls. The need to help had rolled off of him in shock waves. A squeeze of her hand and a warm expression even the mask couldn’t hide. For the briefest moment, they had worked in tandem again.

There had been no doubt in her mind that he would get Shelling here for her. The acrobat was the most charming person she knew when he wanted something. Mary tilted her body slightly, looking out the doorway for a purposefully messy head of hair. This interview was just one more mark on her list of things she owed Dick for.

“Are you the criminal psychology girl?”

Mary came back to center, nodding. Her hands were still clasped behind her, and she squeezed her wrist.

“You look a little young to be an expert.”

Smith was naturally big and tall, but he’d grown up not believing it. She could tell by the way he was puffing his chest and widening his stance. Being around the taller Mendez made him feel inferior. Focusing on both the smallest and most feminine person in the room did the opposite.

“I never said I was. You did.” Mary kept her tone professional but clipped her endings. Her eyes never left his as he processed her words. It took ten seconds for Smith’s jaw to start tightening.

“She spent a year doing VICAP questionnaires for the BAU. Hayes is well acquainted with the interview process.” Mendez’s reassurance was kind, but he stood straight, looking down at Smith. Mary tightened her grip. Daniel’s composure was going to only send the Detective further into defensiveness.

“Can I see Shelling now?”

Smith opened his mouth, likely to claim that paperwork was first needed when a grinning figure threw an arm over his shoulder. Mary had never been happier to see Dick. Every inch of him, including that fake plastered smile of his.

“GCPD? Oh, you’re a sight for sore eyes, my hometown of gloom and doom. I can lead her to the Shelling, Darnell.”

Even the plain clothes couldn’t hide Grayson’s flair for the dramatic. Mary pursed her lips. She’d always wondered what Dick looked like as a regular officer instead of a vigilante. The answer, it seemed, was lackluster. The man had been born to sport the spandex, not a navy button-down.

“Shouldn’t you be on the streets?”

“Soon. Amy is talking with the Chief.” Dick replied coolly, motioning for Mary to follow him out. She did, heels clacking against the cheap tile as Smith called back, “Grayson, you cannot inter-"

“I’m just showing her the room, Darnell”, Dick offered her a smirk which she really shouldn’t have humored. A foot away, she turned her head back to see Mendez returning to the conversation. He’d finish her paperwork for her and likely keep Smith off their backs by being his usual self.

“Miss me?” Dick winked, face melting into something more human than practiced as they walked down an empty corridor. One hand on the small of her back, he practically zoomed the two of them to the holding cells.

“I don’t have time with how often you’re showing up in my life.” Mary didn’t move from the entrance, sorting through the details of Shelling’s case.

The man had previously been arrested for public disruptions and stalking a young girl. Just this week, DNA evidence had linked him to the murder of seventeen-year-old Macy Butler. The case report by arresting officer Amy Rohrback stated that he had been wandering downtown disoriented, hands covered in dried blood that matched the girl’s. Examiner notes from the finding of the body before the arrest indicated three stabs to the abdomen and a shallow cut to the side of her neck. A one, the same number found on Kate Dyson.

“I should’ve worn something else.”

“Something more youthful?” Dick ventured following her thoughts on the standard profile of a predator. She’d want to look like an easy target, invoke his sense of power, so he slipped up.

Mary stared at the room, all gray walls and metal. It was purposefully freezing, which meant he was likely already on edge. That took away her choice to make him comfortable and lull him into confessing information. So much for vulnerable, ditsy female profiler. Now she had to wait for Mendez.

She blew a raspberry, leaning against the wall. Dick followed suit on the other side, ignoring the buzzing from his scanner. He was lucky he was pretty and good at his job. If she were his boss, she would’ve fired him.

“Why isn’t he in an interrogation room?” Mary wrapped her arms around her, goose bumps forming where she’d cuffed the sleeves.

“I convinced them to bring him here. I couldn’t convince them that it mattered enough.” Dick looked apologetic. Mary waved him off. He’d already done enough for her during this case as is.

“It’ll matter. I spent all last night looking over your crime scene photos. I even cold-called your medical examiner. Nice guy by the way, even if I woke him.” She could feel herself verging on rambling, the words tumbling out, “You do not want to see my hotel room right now, all I need is red string and … anyways, the cases are connected.”

Dick sighed, tapping his finger against his knee, “I know I checked the details myself after patrol. Your numbers theory adds up, but Shelling couldn’t possibly be Kate’s killer. He’d already been arrested when she died.” He paused to look at her and smiled slightly. Mary blinked at him, and he purposefully scratched his nose. She un-scrunched her own.

“He has a partner.”

“Agreed.”

“I just need to speak with him to see whether he’s the dominant or submissive of the pair.” That information would drive the case from now on. She couldn’t form a profile without knowing what dynamics were at play.

“If you want my opinion, from my ten minutes with him. Submissive. Guy couldn’t form a coherent sentence.”

Mary leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Dick met her halfway as she asked, “Incoherent like he was intimidated by you or incoherent like he couldn’t believe what he just did.”

Dick let out a low whistle, thinking, “The second. Does it matter? Both sound submissive.”

“Different reasons for manipulation”

He placed a hand on her arm. It was warm, compared to the freezing room. She rubbed her hands together. “I need him in an interrogation room. My best bet right now is to study him from the two-way glass.”

Dick shook his head. She knew it was a lost cause, but if there was a camera in the holding cells … He caught her eyes grinning like he’d read her mind, “Now the cameras here are under my jurisdiction.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. They were back to playing a risky game. But she liked being able to throw ideas back and forth with him like before. He copied her expression as he left the room.

“Nice shirt.”

She looked down. The deep burgundy stood out starkly against the goosebumps on her arms, “Thanks. It’s my-”

“Favorite color? Yeah, I know.”

He was already walking briskly to the room where they kept the live security feed. Mary hurried to catch up to him as he asked her if she still owned her old loafers.

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM UNIVERSITY

FRESHMAN YEAR - DICK

AUGUST 25th, 12:00 PM

Bruce’s parenting was unconventional to say the least, but Dick couldn’t deny the man’s training had several unexpected perks. Particularly, getting him out of the lower-level psych course he’d practically mastered by twelve. Unfortunately, it did not mean he got to test out of Psych 101 lab. There was no realistic way to prove you had first had psychological research experience without giving away a secret identity or two.

Which meant an hour and forty-five minutes of his Tuesdays and Thursdays would be spent with the students milling around the room looking for seatmates and eventual lab partners. He watched them from his spot in the back, his backpack on the chair next to him. With an odd number of students, if he played his cards right and smooth-talked the TA, he could avoid a partner altogether. A trick he’d learned in high school to avoid either having to do all the work on top of his duties with the Titans or working with a partner who complained that he was uncommunicative.

“Is this seat taken?” A petite girl with glasses that practically engulfed her whole face asked.

Dick flashed her a bright smile, a lie rolling off his tongue, “Yeah, sorry, I’m waiting for a friend. Hoping he hasn’t dropped the course.”

He relaxed his face slightly as she walked away, side-eyeing the group of fraternity pledges pushing their way through the door. He did a double take when behind them was the slightest peak of burgundy loafers. He leaned forward, interest piqued. Because if it was who he thought it was … Like a fork in the road, the pledges went one direction and a head of honey blonde hair moved in the other.

He’d been right on the money. It was the girl from his abnormal psych lecture, the one who sat in the front and answered two of the questions faster than the professor could finish them. He’d noticed from his spot above her the way she clicked the shoes together the entire time. Like an over-achieving, gunning Dorothy. The rest of her had been unusually still, besides the moving hand writing on her tablet.

Unless she was an upperclassman who went through an extreme personality change and somehow failed this lab, she was in the same boat as him. Overqualified freshman forced to take the lab. Someone who liked to be in control and would gladly do all the work. The sound of her shoes passing brought him back to reality.

His hand snapped out before he could think, grabbing at a gray cardigan. A pair of eyes a shade lighter than the fabric narrowed down at him. He loosened his grip instantly, smiling to cover up his blunder.

You’re not allowed to just grab at people, Dick.

“Can I help you?” The girl paused at his table, backpack hanging over one shoulder. Her eyes stayed locked in their squint, locking onto his hand rather than his face. Dick looked down at it when her freckled nose scrunched.

Oh.

A slight streaking of purple had bloomed over his knuckles from where he must have hit a goon a little too hard last night. “I am so sorry. That’s no way to start a conversation”, he forced out the laugh usually saved only for Gala’s, “I just recognized you from Bircham’s Ab-Psych. Got a little overzealous.”

The girl finally tore her gaze away from his hand, blinking slowly, “I’m sorry. What?”

Maybe she wasn’t as smart as he assumed, but it wasn’t like he could tell her to go away now. He shook his head at her question, “It’s nothing. You’re welcome to sit if you’d like. Spots are filling up.”

She glanced around the room, eyes darting from person to person. It was as if she were sizing them up. No, that wasn’t it. She was analyzing them in an uncanny way, like he had when he first arrived. Dick ran a hand through his hair before placing it beneath the table.

“I’m Dick, by the way.” He reached to remove his backpack, nodding as she dropped her own and sat down. She didn’t cringe or nervously giggle like most of his classmates had done at his name. Instead, she replied coolly as she reached for her iPad.

“I know. We’re in the same class.”

Dick couldn’t help it; his smile faltered just the slightest. He hated the way she devoured the change, taking in every single part of him. It was clear what type of psych student she was. Calculated and rational, either going into research or law enforcement. He was banking on research.

“Right, the icebreaker.”

He racked his brain trying to remember how she’d introduced herself. It was something with an M … Marian or maybe Mariam. He’d only remembered because it was an older name like his.

“Hayes, right? Mariam Hayes. You said something about your dad growing rare trees.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to show her up. To prove that he knew as much about her as she did him. “Do you ever go by Mary?”

She looked up from where she dated her page, replying dryly, “How many Mariams do you know that go by their whole name?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really meet many Mariams. Shame it’s a pretty name.”

She raised an eyebrow. Dick tilted his head. She was cute, but her soft features contrasted harshly with the cold look in her eyes and bland expression. Something about it reminded him of his own sunny, pensive smile.

“I go by Mary.”

Her burgundy loafers were hooked under the bar of the stool, feet slightly twitching. He was getting under her skin, whether she showed it or not. The TA had just entered the room and was already fighting with the projector. It would be a while before the lab started.

“Who’d you punch?”

He flexed his hand, startled. Mary didn’t acknowledge it outwardly, but he was certain she had carted it away in her mind. “I didn’t punch anyone. Unfortunate incident at the gym.” He gave the slightest laugh, stressing humor into his words.

She pursed her lips, and he looked around the room. Maybe he should look for a better candidate as his partner, even if it’s rude to leave his spot. The more she spoke, the clearer it became that she’d be hounding him all semester.

“You don’t believe me?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment and then sighed, setting down her stylus, “I think we’re both horrible at starting conversations. That was out of line on my part. Sorry.”

Dick couldn’t fight the cocky expression blooming onto his face. She didn’t mean it, and it made his next words more fun. “All good. How’d you know?”

Her feet continued to move under the table, “My boyfriend. He had the same blooming whenever he threw a hook at someone. I’m from a small town, there’s nothing to do other than pick fights or go out to the closest city.”

“And you started noticing all the types of bruises, hmm.” He shouldn’t be encouraging the conversation, but there was something fun about it, seeing how much this small town polly pocket saw.

“Yup, got a whole notebook dedicated to it.” The sarcasm was strong. “No, but really, the way it’s coming hardest at the particular part of the knuckles. You threw the first punch and it hit well. Congratulations.” She nodded to the way the concentration started where his first had kissed the clown-faced goon last night.

Dick gave up his theory that she’d go into research and replaced it with law enforcement. The way her eyes lit up with actual emotion and her speech sped proved that about her “Psych and criminology major? You're going into behavioral analysis?”

Mary leaned forward, excitement replacing her schooled expression for just a moment, “Yeah, profiling actually. It’s the reason I came to Gotham U.”

“You want to pick at our homegrown crazies' heads.” He leaned forward, backtracking as she frowned, “I’m just messing with you.

“Aha”, she turned away, cutting the conversation short as the TA finally cleared his throat. Dick couldn’t help the disappointment at the lost banter.

She ignored him for the rest of the class. Well, ignored was harsh. She was laser-focused on the syllabus week level of lecturing the TA did about the rules, assignments, and expectations. When they were finally dismissed, she picked up her backpack over one shoulder again. He stopped her as she passed their table.

“Hey!” He grinned as she turned, “Do you want to exchange numbers? For the assignments.”

She set her things quickly, pulling her phone from her back pocket. “Right,” there was the slightest reddening over her cheeks.

He grabbed his backpack, typing in his contact while walking out the door.

Because how else was he supposed to force her to keep talking to him?

Chapter Text

August 25th, 1:30 PM

Hey. This is Dick, your Psych Lab Partner. 

BLUDHAVEN - BCPD PRECINCT

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 21ST, 6:00 AM

Dick spent the short walk from the holding cells to the security room chattering. There was no room for silence if he filled the time with unimportant conversation, like his work plans for the day. Mary didn’t say anything, just listened. She’d always been good at listening … and watching. 

Watching and listening. 

Observing. 

She now leaned against the desk, eyes glued onto the grainy footage of Shelling in his cell. Dick stood next to her, arms crossed, as the woman attempted to unravel the person in front of her. It always reminded him of Bruce. The comparison wasn’t necessarily based on skill level. It was more about the fire burning behind their actions. They both shared the need to know everything and then use it to be prepared for every angle that existed. 

Mary’s particular brand, however, came with less tact at hiding her intentions. And … at least in Dick’s opinion, a prettier face. 

“He’s restless.” 

Dick leaned down slightly to catch her mumble. Mary looked up, her jaw set as she held his gaze, forming her next sentence. From the cell, Shelling continued to pace back and forth, pulling at his hair. 

“Restless. It’s like something is forcing him to keep moving and talking. He’s speaking so rapidly I can barely make out what he’s saying.”

“He’s talking about a ‘He’ . It’s what he was saying when we booked him.” Dick sped up his words as he mimicked the man. “She wasn’t 18. He said she was 18. She wasn’t 18.”

Mary clicked her tongue, sitting against the edge of the desk, her back to the screen. She was done observing, having gotten everything she needed from the few minutes of watching. Her dark heels clicked together in sets of three. 

“Did anyone check his health history? Any diagnoses? Instances of psychosis?” Quick hands circled the air as she spoke, “Because I’m leaning towards psychosis. Of course I’d still need to speak with him but …” 

Mary trailed off, and there was a clang on the metal so loud they wouldn’t have needed the footage to hear it. Dick cursed as Shelling shoved himself against the bar again, jumping to his feet. 

Rushing back to the holding cell, he joined several officers in calming the man down before he hurt himself further. Smith and Mendez had finally joined the commotion, the former whirling on Mary, who stood with her hands clasped behind her back. 

“This is your great idea, Miss. Criminal Psychologist?” The older man loomed over her, but she remained impassive, besides the twitch of her clasped hands. “I don’t know exactly what your game plan is here, but I’m telling you a booked killer isn’t going to help us solve this. Wise up or step off the case.”

Mary blinked once, before replying, voice low and measured, “I thought bringing Shelling in was your idea?”

The Smith’s face reddened, and Dick let go of the writhing Shelling before they all got the opportunity to watch Mary get strangled in real time. He slipped between the tense officers, flashing the taller one a smile. 

“Look, Detective Smith,” at the mention of the formal title, Darnell seemed to lose some of the bristle, “It’s not a setback to dot your i’s and cross your t’s. Let Hayes interview the man and rule out the possibility.”

Mary straightened behind him, her gaze burning into his back. They both knew that Shelling was more than damage control. She peered from behind him, about to open her mouth with a raised finger. Dick pushed her head back with the palm of his hand. 

“I’ll talk to the chief. See if I can stay with the two Gotham profilers. You know me, Darnell, I’m not going to throw this case, I’ve got skin in it too.” Dick flashed a smile, all barred teeth and set stance. He wasn’t going to budge on this even if he “wasn’t a detective”. 

Mendez shifted his feet before adding, “It could help. Mary’s a desk profiler, so it would be for her safety to have-”

“Think before you finish that sentence, Daniel.” Mary ended the conversation for now, stepping forward to watch Shelling, who was back to pacing in his cell. “I’m doing this interview, or I’m going back to Gotham. And to do this interview, I need him, for lack of a better term, lucid.”

“Lucid?”

“Yes, detective”, Mary stressed her words, “The man isn’t in his right mind. He’s in a psychotic episode, and I’m not going to grill him until he gets the medical attention he deserves. I’m assuming you have a psychiatrist on call?”

Dick cleared his throat, cutting off Smith’s retort, “We do. I can help get you in touch with them. I’ll go talk with my supervisor right away and help you out while you two are here.”

It wasn’t up for debate. The chief would say yes solely based on the fact that Dick had the special feature of being a native Gothamite. That, coupled with the fact that he knew Mary Hayes like the back of his hand, made him the perfect guy to help her while she and Mendez were in Bludhaven. 

Mary turned her attention back to Shelling for a few seconds before facing the men again. “Mendez, can you help Detective Smith get that psychiatry consultation? Now that I’ve got my own personal babysitter, I need to go to the nearest convenience store. Might as well put to use the time it takes for our friend to come back to reality.”

Smith whirled back on her again with an exasperated, “Excuse me,” and Mary raised a hand. 

“I have a theory, but I need a few things in order to test it.”

Twenty minutes later, Dick found himself pushing a cart in the mini mart. In his uniform and Mary’s perfectionist-on-steroids look, they made quite the pair. The woman didn’t seem to notice as she cut ahead of him. 

“I can’t believe you said that.”

He couldn’t stop the chuckle, “Mare, you would’ve eaten him alive. I needed to redirect the talk back to the case.”

Mary glared at the nickname, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she stood at the beginning of the aisle, cursing, “Where’s your people’s drink section?”

Dick pivoted on his heel to three aisles down, and she followed with crossed arms. Stopping at the powdered drink mixes, she pulled several off the shelf. Cherry. Strawberry. Watermelon. They clanged as they hit the cart basket one by one, a small pile of Kool-Aids. Mary ran a finger down the rest of the drinks, thinking to herself. 

“Nightwing was smart for asking them to get a sample of the liquid found at the scene.”

Dick beamed with pride from behind her. Nothing about this case was random, including the sweet liquid seeping from the hospital’s utility closet where Kate Dyson had been found. The forensics team had confirmed it contained no hazardous chemical makeup. A simple fruit drink of some kind. 

Mary wedged herself between him and the cart to steal it, pushing it down the aisle to the gallon-sized jugs of water. Dick shook his head as he followed. She was whip smart and had connected the liquid to something that didn’t necessarily involve direct foul play. Whatever she was thinking would draw the line between Shelling and the dominant partner. 

He’d just have to wait and see what that line was. 

“I don’t need you speaking for me like that anymore.” Her voice was firm, shoulders set, but her eyes betrayed her slight gratitude. “I know it’s one of your many bad habits to protect the entire world, but keep me out of it.”

“Can’t escape my orbit.” He had to hip check her to grab the water and swing it into the cart with a resounding thud. 

“Aces, you’re cheesy. How does Kori put up with you?” Her earrings glittered against the harsh fluorescence as she walked backwards. Dick focused his attention on the dangling gold swinging against glossy hair. He kept his placid and pleasant, refusing to give her the opportunity to figure it out first. She turned her back on him again, looking for the checkout. 

“She doesn’t have to. We broke up.”

Dick swore he heard a screech as Mary whirled around, eyes unusually wide for once. He won. He’d beaten the profiler, once again proving she wasn’t infallible. He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips at her expression. It was akin to Damian’s cat when someone refused to feed him a second dinner. 

“I’m sorry,” Mary rubbed at her forehead dramatically, “When did this happen? What happened? I’m just - how do you let a woman like that go?” 

They had to side-step as a mother and her rowdy child passed down the aisle. The child offered a toothy grin at Dick, who reached into his pocket, handing her a lollipop. Mary raised an eyebrow at his good deed. The cart clattered down to the right of where Mary had previously been looking, Dick leading them to the self-checkout. 

“God. It has to have been almost two years now.” There were five consecutive beeps as he quickly scanned all the boxes. “She’s doing great things. Incredible, she’s absolutely incredible. Doesn’t need me to do that.”

“Obviously”, Mary reached into her bag for her wallet. “But so are you. Don’t let that inflate your head.” 

There was a sharp smack as she tried to push his hand away from the card reader to no avail. Sighing, she grabbed one of the bags and headed towards the exit. Dick followed with his own, reaching for his keys. 

“Sooooo”, Mary was too happy with weeding out his personal drama, “What happened? How’d you lose the girl?”

Dick popped the trunk, motioning to her to set down the bags. Covering his eyes with a pair of sunglasses, he could pretend like she wasn’t watching him the rest of the drive. 

“I was a mess after Jason died,” He thanked god for the sunglasses as Mary glanced over at him with a look that said ‘understatement of the century’, “And trust me, she stuck by me. Kori is too kind to leave anyone at their worst. Even when I made it my goal to push people-”

“I know. I was one of those people.” Mary crossed her feet, one arm propped against the window. “Let me guess. You eventually blew up at someone who didn’t deserve it. That girl was never a doormat.”

Dick took a sharp turn, “Yeah. When Redhood started showing up in the scene and I realized that there was a very real chance it was my little brother. I wasn’t a good boyfriend, Mary. I was so busy in my world that I was neglecting one of the few people who stood by me. She got away, said she needed to explore herself without me, become the person she is now, all in her own amazing way.”

He offered a broken grin, and Mary gave back her own small smile. She kept up with as much news as she could; there was no doubt that she’d seen Starfire and the other former Titans’ feats that made the front page. Even when it was without him, Dick couldn’t be prouder of the people he had the opportunity to call his friends. 

“What’s meant to be will come back to you.” Mary unbuckled as they arrived at the police station again. “Or something like that. My mama used to say it when my dad would get upset by blights.”

Dick shook his head, grabbing the plastic bags with one hand, “Nah. She deserves the world. I am not that.”

The blonde clicked her tongue dismissively as she crossed the room to rejoin Mendez. But as she passed, she brushed a hand past his. The smallest sign that she didn’t believe in his self-deprecation, even if Mary herself was keeping him at arm’s length. 

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM UNIVERSITY

FRESHMAN YEAR - MARY

FEBRUARY 12th, 8:00 PM

“All I’m saying is I can’t be the only one changing all the time. I mean a relationship is a two-way street.”

Dr. Bircham’s lab was a cluttered mess mixed with sticky notes labeled with tight script. Mary’s attempt at organizing the unorganizable. It was also off limits to students not approved for research. Dick turned a blind eye to the rule, particularly after 6:00 pm when the Professor promptly left campus. 

He sat at one of the tables, swiveling in the chair as he recounted his latest couple’s spat. Mary stood in the open restroom doorway, ignoring him, her focus on her reflection. She pursed her lips as she played with her new bangs in the mirror with one hand. 

“I wish I never cut my hair.” She let go, and the hair fell back into a sideswept curtain. It framed her face in a way that brought out her army of freckles. Mary rolled her eyes, shutting off the light as she entered the main room again. 

“It looks nice.” Dick said offhandedly before continuing, “It must be my personal curse. I’m always going to do all the changing. I’m going to lose myself, Mary, before Kori realizes that she could also make some compromises.”

Mary took a seat across from him, reaching up to touch her bangs once more at the assurance. She appreciated the kindness, especially since the haircut was part of a breakup-induced haze. Apparently, high school boyfriends could practically beg in August to do long distance, and then in January have a complete 180. She’d been quoted as “too difficult” since moving to Gotham. Dick didn’t need to know that information; he’d just go even more ballistic.  

She checked the clock before replying, “You’re being emotional right now.”

“I am-”

Mary raised a hand, cutting off his exasperated reply, “You are. If you want my opinion, considering that the girl is adapting to a whole new fucking planet, maybe she’s done enough changing. Honestly, I think you’re looking for something to be let down about.”

Dick rolled his eyes at her, “I am not! I’m patient, I’m a saint. Don’t look at me like that. I just need some more communication. I can’t be the partner budging on everything.”

Mary chewed her cheek, reaching for her scarf. “Have you been communicating?” She questioned as she tugged on her coat. 

“I called all night! 

“Go see her over the weekend? Try apologizing for freaking out on her.” She offered him a hand as she passed him to lock up the room.

In the silence, besides the clink of her keys turning in the lock, she could practically hear the gears turning in his brain. He was realizing that maybe he did need to cool down and let his emotions out. She was just happy he decided to come rant to her before he dug himself into a deeper hole. 

“I should have never let us fall out.”

Mary nodded, following with quick steps as he took the stairs two steps at a time. They stepped out into the February evening, the snowy New Year’s Gotham melting into a land of dirty slush. 

She jumped to the side at a larger puddle that reflected the street lights. Her father had spent more than she approved for the new boots on her feet. Dick sighed, twirling his own luxury keys on his fingers. 

“You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

A finger pointed down the street towards the direction of Gladstone’s Diner. She nodded. After hours of research, she wouldn’t say no to a slice of cherry pie and coffee. Dick would need the brief moment of normalcy before his patrol anyway. 

He turned to her, blue eyes so open, the frustration still coursing through them. He was an oxymoron, heart on his sleeve in a life where he hid so much of himself. 

“I’m so damn close to going insane.” Dick hit the button at the crosswalk a few times, dragging his feet dramatically. 

Mary picked up the pace as they crossed, tapping him hard on the shoulder. He straightened, matching her stride in a split second. The blinking sign of Gladstones could be seen in the distance, a silent promise of worn seats and caffeine. 

“We’re all on the brink of insanity. Welcome to life, Richard. Do you need a tour?”

There was a shriek as his hand whipped out, followed by the pattering of feet racing across the street towards the old diner.

BLUDHAVEN - BCPD PRECINCT 

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 21ST, 10:00 AM

“Thank you, Dr. Ida.” Mary glared at the officers guiding Shelling into the interrogation room. The man was on enough depressive meds that he wasn’t going to even think about bolting. There was no need to be so rough with him. 

“You were right with your observation of psychosis, Detective Hayes. It’s a shame he was never referred to professional help before such a tragedy happened.” The older woman wrung her hands, her glasses low on her nose. She cared about her patients, a trait slowly becoming rarer and rarer in these larger cities. 

“The hallucination of a ‘He’ seemed most prominent. I would give Mr. Shelling a moment of grace for that particular detail.” The psychiatrist picked up her things and headed towards the door. 

Mary clasped her hands behind her back, tapping at her wrist. Her eyes narrowed, watching through the one-way glass. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make that promise. 

“I apologize. But I’m here to prove that ‘He’ is real. My profile points to a partner capitalizing on his weakened and delusional state.” She offered a polite smile before undoing her cuffed sleeves, leaving them messily loose. Mendez stretched before opening the door to the interrogation room, entering with her. 

Shelling looked up blankly at the two detectives. Daniel offered a small smile, and the man replied with a raise of two fingers. The movements were slowed by the medication, like the world had gone from warped speed to being coated in molasses for him. 

“Good afternoon. I’m Detective Daniel Mendez with the GCPD. This is my partner, Detective Hayes. We’d like to ask you a few questions, Conrad.”

Shelling licked his lips. Once, twice, thrice. “I thought I was in Bludhaven?” 

“Good, you know where you are.” Mary set down a stack of files beside her, neatly labeled. Three Dysons. One Butler. “Conrad, we’d like you to recount your confession of the Macy Butler murder. Would you like a lawyer present?”

“No. No. No,” The man shook his head slowly but adamantly, “It was my fault. I found her. She said she was 18. But she wasn’t. She said she-”

Beside her, Mendez softened his gaze, taking a deliberate deep breath. Shelling followed filling his lungs as a sense of calm spread through his sharp features. He licked his lips again before continuing. 

“He needs an 18. To make it right. I … the girl said she was 18. Jesus, I killed her for nothing.” The man giggled slightly, “I saw her license when it was too late. She would have been 18 if I had waited two days. He’s right, I’m an impatient loony, and now they’re going to throw me in the bin where I belong.”

Mary let the silence fill the room, Shelling eyes darted to her sleeves, the only thing askew on her at the moment. It kept his attention on her as she asked, “So he told you to kill an eighteen-year-old? Why is that?”

The man’s callused fingers twitched from where they were cuffed, and he tore his gaze from her sleeves reluctantly. Shelling was a mess, but something in him sought order in the rest of the world. Whoever the dominant partner was had capitalized on it to turn the man into a killer. 

“Because it fits the pattern. And people notice a pattern. It makes the world sharper.” Mary fixed one sleeve as she nodded, and the man momentarily relaxed. Until Mendez, beside her, pulled his own down messily before asking his next question. 

“And who is he?”

Another lick of the lips before, “He’s my mind.”

Mary bit her tongue in frustration. It seemed that Shelling was more protective of his partner than she expected. She fixed her other sleeve as Mendez undid his. With the cuffed man’s attention back on her partner, she stood to step out of the room. 

“You keep wetting your lips, Mr. Shelling. Would you like a drink?”

“That would be nice.”

Mary returned a moment later to the tail end of Shellings’ next answer to Mendez’s questions. 

“He said not to wash the blood off. That’s why I still had it on me. He said I needed to feel regret for what I did.”

Mary pursed her lips before morphing her face into something more placid and turning around, the cup in her hands. Shelling didn’t even realize that his partner had been priming him to take the fall the entire time. Standing behind Mendez, Mary bore her gaze into him. 

“No. Conrad, “He” wanted you to be a scapegoat. Blood is DNA evidence. It linked you to the Butler murder. It was the only evidence truly needed besides your confession.”

Shellings’ eyes flashed with panic, and Mendez reached a calming hand across the table, “No. It was only me. He’s not-”

“Conrad, we know he told you things. To be frank, you’re our only chance at stopping another murder. You don’t feel good when people die, right? You’re a good man.”

Mary finally took her seat, adding to her partner’s words, “You know things no one else does. You knew about the Dysons, didn’t you?” She set the cup down, the liquid spilling slightly. 

Shelling stared at the sticky puddle in front of him. The fruity smell filled the otherwise sterile room. 

“Water would have been nice.” He said meekly, and Mary crossed her ankles, ignoring the comment. 

“You knew about the doll marking Carolyn Dyson. You knew “He’d” kidnap Kate. And you knew he’d hide her body in the hospital.” Mary raised an eyebrow as he took a sip. “Her body was only found when the fake blood spilled because she’d be long dead to bleed for real by then.”

 “Kool-Aid mix. Five to one ratio. Just like what’s in your mouth.” The man spat out the concoction back into the cup. 

Mary and Dick had to spend over twenty minutes testing the different concentrations of powder to water to get the right match to the sample taken from the scene. Shelling licked his lips again. A clear habit. He looked between Mary and the cup and then at the spill on the table.

 His nostrils flared as if fighting the words coming out, and then he forced, “This is wrong. It was cherry. He used cherry. You’re wrong.”

“I know.” Mary raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “And now I know you know. Because I never said what flavor. You’re drinking strawberry.”

She dipped one manicured finger into the goop on the table, Shelling’s eyes following the messy line. Mendez reached forward to wipe it up. 

“Conrad, would you like to tell us everything now?”

Chapter Text

June 22nd, 2:00 AM

About to send you my address. 

Location Shared. 

METROPOLIS APARTMENT

FIVE YEARS AGO - TIM

MARCH 1ST, 6:00 PM

It took three knocks on the door for Tim to finally get some sort of response. He tapped his foot impatiently; he didn’t take the bus to Metropolis for nothing. The apartment’s entrance opened just the slightest, a freckled face peering out at the young boy rocking on the balls of his feet. 

“Can I help you?”

The door opened fully when the woman realized it was just a child standing there. Concern was evident on her features, and she looked down the hall, probably wondering where his parents were. 

“Yeah. Hi, my name’s Tim. I’m actually looking for Mariam Hayes, that’s you, right?”

Mary leaned against the door frame, her hair curled and lips painted a deep cherry. She looked like she was about to go out, which was interesting, because all of Tim’s research pointed to her dating someone all the way in Bludhaven. 

She gave a small smile, like all adults did when they were being polite, “I’m she. How can I help you, friend?”

“I need you to convince your boyfriend to come back to Gotham and be Robin again. He straight-up told me no, which is ridiculous, completely ridiculous. What’s his problem anyway? He basically said I should do it, but look at me. Why would I do it if he’s right there?”

The smile dropped instantly. Mary paused for a moment before opening the door wide and ushering him inside with a kind but firm command. 

In an instant, the boy found himself inside the cramped apartment, sitting at a thrifted dining table. He munched on the goldfish that Mary threw at him while she typed on her phone. 

“Who are you texting?”

“Bruce.”

“No!”

Mary looked up with a cocked head, her eyes narrowed. The man on the other side of the screen must have informed her that technically, Tim wasn’t his responsibility. Which was true, although blissfully unaware of his day trip, Tim’s parents were well and alive. 

“Where are your mom and dad?” She pocketed her phone, leaning against the dining table, looking down at him. It did little to intimidate, considering she was likely only an inch or two taller than him. 

“Busy”

“Busy where?”

Tim sighed dramatically, dropping his chin into the palm of his hand. “Busy in Gotham. Now, can we talk about what I came here for? Because I know that you know who the Bat’s identities are and you know that I know. And two super smart brains are better than one.”

Mary opened her mouth. Then shut it. Then opened it again, clearly contemplating how to get a hold of the conversation again. 

Tim opened his mouth faster and refused to be quiet, “Look, Gotham’s a mess. Bruce is a mess. Robins … gone, and we need a new one. So convince your boyfriend to do it.”

It was kind of funny to watch her brain go into overdrive until a painted finger pointed directly at him, “ Not my boyfriend. Dick and I aren’t really even friends anymore, not since…”

She trailed off, pretending to check the watch before continuing, “Not since the last Robin passed away. How old are you anyway? Ten? Twelve”?

The boy puffed his chest proudly, “I’m thirteen. And you have to talk to him. I know you can. I looked into his entire life. I know things.”

Mary took a seat across from him, her face melting slightly at his rambling. She thought he was cute, and Tim wasn’t afraid to capitalize on that fact. He was about to begin widening his blue eyes even further when she responded gently. 

“Dick is 21, Tim - it is Tim, right? Even if he wanted to, he’s too old to be Robin now. He’s made a new name for himself. That would be like asking me to quit my job and go back to helping my dad back in Nowelsland during a bad season. Does that make sense?”

“Where’s Nowhere-land?”

“In Maryland. Do you understand?”

“I don’t want to.” Tim kicked his feet in his seat, crunching the now-empty goldfish bag, “Gotham’s my home, and it needs help. You and Dick can run away, but what about the rest of us?”

Mary gave him a soft smile, watching him for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed further and further, morphing her expression into something more calculating. 

Tim had the sudden feeling that he was exposed as she said sternly, “Are you trying to guilt trip me? Buddy, the shoes on your feet cost more than my rent. I promise you, you’ll be fine in Gotham as long as you stop trying to sneak out.”

“No fair. Stop trying to read me.” Tim crossed his arms, glaring at her. “And my point still stands, even if I’m rich.”

Mary stood, brushing out a wrinkle in her dress before taking his trash to throw away. She came back just as the doorbell rang. Tim stood up slowly, annoyance etched on his face. Her date had arrived. 

“It’s not that I disagree with you, Tim. I really, truly do. It’s the reason I’m going to come back to Gotham after my internship. Sometimes we can’t rely on our vigilantes. They’re only human. Batman is grieving. Dick is grieving.”

She was grieving. 

Mary handed him back his coat at the door as another knock came, “Sometimes we have to look inward. See what we can do for the city.”

“Don’t tell me you’re suggesting I be Robin too? No wonder you and Dick were friends. You’re both crazy.”

The woman shook her head, “That’s not what I’m saying. If you think your path is leading you there, I’m sorry. We already lost one bird.”

Mary opened the door, ushering him out. She greeted the man on the other side with a lie about babysitting at the last minute. Her date simply shrugged and let himself in as she guided Tim down to the front lobby. Long fingers brushed against his shoulders as Tim assured her he’d be fine. 

Despite her insistence that she wouldn’t mind driving him, Tim found himself on the next stop to Gotham less than half an hour later. He watched out the window as Metropolis blended away. His phone dinged, likely a text from his mom asking what he wanted for dinner. He reached into his pocket, feeling a piece of paper beside his phone. 

He opened it to find small, cramped handwriting and a message. 

“I can’t stop you from being Robin. But I’m also old enough to know I have no control over you. Keep in touch, whatever path you choose. I’ve included my number and Dick’s. Please bother him first before me - Mariam Hayes” 

Tim grinned as he added both contacts to his phone. 

BLUDHAVEN - GRAYSON APARTMENT

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 2:45 AM

“So let me get this straight,” Dick leaned his head back over the couch cushion, following Mary’s trajectory back from the kitchen. “According to Shelling, he and Kate were victims and perpetrators of something much bigger than both of them.”

“Mhmmm. Mary sat back down on the old ottoman across from him, blowing on her tea, “Shelling is still holding out on who ‘He’ is, but Mendez got enough out of him.” 

Dick sat up, bending to read the information Mary had assembled on her tablet. A digital red string board. Everyone on the case had conferred after the interview that there was a metaphorical hand in the case. The “He”, a dominant partner, who, after the Metropolis murder, realized he could take the easy way out. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was much more convenient to choose the victim and manipulate puppets to carry out the plan. Conrad Shelling’s’ poor mental health and Kate Dyson’s isolation made them perfect targets for manipulation.

“What’s the profile?” 

Mary’s eyes practically light up at his question, jumping to stand, tablet in one hand and his Gotham Knights mug in the other. Dick pursed his lips, shifting his eyes down to his flannel bottoms to hide his smile. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

BLUDHAVEN - HAVEN HOTELS

THREE HOURS EARLIER - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 12:00 AM

The tap at her hotel window was sudden. One quick resounding thud of knuckles hitting the glass that forced her to jump, dropping the towel in her hands. Mary narrowed her eyes, turning around slowly. After spending the day talking to and about unlikely killers, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Dick knocked again, the teasing in his eyes hidden by the domino mask. The rest of his suit bled into the night, except the blue of his suit’s emblem. Mary placed one hand on her hip, nose scrunched as he motioned for her to open the window. 

“Absolutely not”, she muttered more to herself than him, but the vigilante frowned as he read her lips. 

Dick pointed to the lock one more time, simulating an old school crank. The words “Let me in” were practically written all over his face. Mary sighed, crossing the room to grab the complimentary notepad on the desk. The Sharpie made a scratching noise as she wrote in harsh block letters. 

She slammed the pad against the window, mouth in a tight line, wet hair dripping down her shirt. Bludhaven’s hero pouted, lip jutting out dramatically as he read the words. 

“USE THE FRONT ENTRANCE.”

Dick motioned to his costume, the action stating the obvious. He couldn’t. At least not unless he wanted someone to link Mary to his nightlife. The woman waved her hand dismissively. 

Tough luck. 

They’d already been forced to spend all day together. He had an in with her case as Dick Grayson; what more did he want? A silly question that she already knew the answer to. 

Mary had watched him get berated by Smith all day for his involvement. The son of the world’s greatest detective, overlooked because he was a lower officer. Dick didn’t just want an in. He wanted a stake in the case as Nightwing, which would allow him to do more than follow her around. 

Her cheek felt raw where she’d bit it all day, but Mary continued to gnaw on it. Her hand was still firmly pressing the notepad to the glass, the pane the only thing separating her and Dick. They were close enough that she could see the faint outline of his dimples, where he was attempting to hold back his pride.

She could always say no. Ignore him, and go to bed. But those hopes were shattered as Dick let the grin spread over his face as he slowly mouthed his next words. 

“You. Owe. Me.” 

It took him two hours to finish his patrol and send her his apartment address. Any normal person would be in bed by this hour. Mary’s insomnia disagreed wholeheartedly. A catnap early that evening and a coffee at 8:00 PM had won against her aching muscles and medication. 

Fortunately, it meant that the tablet in her bag held a completed profile for the dominant partner.

Mary paused at the apartment lobby entrance, pressing the button at the intercom. There was no tell-tale click of Dick letting her in. Rolling her eyes, she checked her phone, balking at the message. 

“USE THE FIRE ESCAPE.” 

He had to be kidding her.

“I’m not kidding”, the next message stated. 

Mary trudged to the side of the building, climbing up the stairs to the third floor with annoyed steps. Standing in front of Dicks window, she waited to be let in. She refused to knock. 

“Well, hello”, the window screeched open, and Dick leaned over it lazily, “I’m not used to being on this side-”

“Let me in.”

“As you wish.” Dick stepped back with a wave of his arm, allowing her to throw a foot over into his living room. 

Mary paused in front of his couch, looking around the room with knowing eyes. It was sparse, the only sign of decor an old flying Grayson’s poster on the wall and a takeout box. She bit her sore cheek again, a tightening at her chest. For someone who tried to radiate liquid optimism, his apartment was downright depressing.

“You got coffee?” She asked, watching Dick lazily flop onto the couch. 

“It’s 2:00 AM, you psycho. I’ve got tea,” he continued, guiding her as she padded to the kitchen, “The spearmint brand you like is on the third shelf to the right. Sugars right next to it.”

BLUDHAVEN - GRAYSON APARTMENT

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 3:00 AM

“My profile says white male. Mid-twenties to late thirties, personable but not necessarily noticed by women in his age range.” Mary paced in front of his TV with fervor, her pen waving. “In a traveling career that allows him to hit multiple cities.”

Dick nodded, running his tongue over his teeth, “Makes sense. It explains how he would be able to manipulate Dyson. Offering her the chance of freedom and romance.”

Mendez had presented Kate Dyson’s profile that afternoon. Severally socially isolated 17-year-old with growing resentment towards her parents. At some point in the last year, Kate had met the guiding hand who had capitalized on her situation, disgustingly grooming her into killing her parents. It was the reason they never found any sign of entrance into the home. Kate had let her kidnapper in. 

“And then when she feels regret and wants to back out, maybe confess to the police, ‘He’ kills her. Steps back into the game. Because with six deaths under his belt, what’s the harm of one more?”

Mary’s hair bounced as she nodded in agreement, crossing the room to sit next to him, “Exactly. Makes her false promises to drive her to do his dirty work. At the same time, he uses Shelling’s delusions against him to get the same result. He’s the type of person who’s only charismatic to those often shoved to the outskirts.”

Dick took a deep breath. They were working with something above Mary’s current pay grade. Murders spanning at least three cities. A serial killer with multiple subordinates. An unknown M.O.. This was a case for something beyond the GCPD, something the government would scoop right up. Unless … The Bats got involved. 

Mary folded her feet under her pen, flying against the tablet as she reorganized her thoughts. She was close enough that he smelled the faint scent of vanilla on her when she pulled her hair over one shoulder. He took another shallow inhale, fingers typing faster. She never found that perfect lilac scent, it seemed. 

“I hate waiting for them to strike again. Makes me feel useless.”

Dick was about to reply when his phone rang. 

Tim.

“Hey, you’re on speaker,” he warned his younger brother, leaning against the cushions. Mary peered over at the caller ID before returning to her writing. 

“Oh really. What special person do you have over now? Should I call back or not, considering that you texted me?” Tim’s voice pealed with glee. The little shit was having too much fun being asked for help. 

“Dude, take it down two or three notches.”

“Is it a girl? Oh, it is a girl.”

Mary looked up again, rolling her eyes at the teenager’s antics. Her shoulder brushed against his as she snatched the phone. Her voice was low, calm, and collected. 

“Hello, Tim.” 

“No … way.” There was silence on the other end before Tim continued, “Detective Hayes? I never would have guessed. Golly me, I’m so flabbergasted.”

“Two or three notches”, Dick warned again, “Did you get the information I need?”

There was a snort, followed by clacking on a computer, “Yeah, yeah. I did a little snooping into some underground groups. Couldn’t find anything, then Bruce looked at me funny … I’m making that your problem. Damage control, please?”

Dick rubbed the bridge of his nose. Another call with B in the morning. Technically, later in the morning, considering the time. And all for nothing it seemed. 

“Did you pass along the task to Oracle, my friend?” Mary leaned one hand over her knee, a small smile spreading over her lips. “What did she find out?”

Tim sighed from the other end, the sound of spinning wheels mixing with the noise, “You’re ruining the element of surprise, Hayes. Yes, obviously I got Bab’s in on it.”

“And?” Mary prodded 

“And she found one record of employment for Conrad Shelling. Paid under the table. Nothing illegal, but the group seemed to be avoiding some taxes.”

Neither adult cared to inform him that that action in and of itself was a crime. The two eyed each other warily while Tim spread out the silence. Mary placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, stopping him from interrupting. She enjoyed the boy’s dramatics more than he did. 

“He was working janitorial for Cirque Triumph.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dick stood up with a start, moving to the kitchen. 

Mary watched the sudden departure with narrowed eyes, picking up the abandoned phone to follow him. Tim chuckled on the other end, and a female voice joined, posing the question. 

“Is he pissed?”

Oracle. Barbara Gordon. 

“Obviously. He’s a purist. Our Dicky hates every new circus on the market.” 

Dick set down the cup a little too loudly at Tim’s statement, “They’re using shock value over-“

Mary tapped her finger on the table, catching his attention. 

Focus 

“Let me guess. There’s no evidence that Shelling did much besides work and home. He didn’t profile as the type to do much else,” Mary’s voice was rapid and clinical as she took in the new information.

Barbara made a noise of approval, “Right on. I could slide this information into the PD files if you’d like. Slip it right where you need it to have a valid reason to check out the circus.”

Dick made a gagging noise, dragging himself onto the ground. The mere thought of stepping into Triumph territory was a personal humiliation for him. Mary hummed, patting his head while thinking through the offer. 

“No. I think I can convince-”

“I am afraid there’s no time to go through the legal channels, Detective Hayes”, the redhead said apologetically, “Triumph is performing their last show on the East Coast, tomorrow.”

The sound of Tim twirling in his chair could be heard again before he added, “What she’s saying is, Dick better psych himself up because you two just earned yourself two tickets to the circus.” 

The line ended as Barbara said her goodbyes, and Mary peered down at the man still on the floor. She reached a hand out to help him up, face weary. 

They were in for a treat. 

Chapter Text

June 22nd, 5:00 AM

Daniel, I need a favor.

June 22nd, 5:02 AM

Ask away. I am the best partner ever for a reason.

BLUDHAVEN - GRAYSON APARTMENT 

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 4:00 AM

Getting Dick to stop moping was a ten-minute endeavor. Mary stood by his television console, organizing a mismatched pile of old CDs when he finally spoke. 

“Fine.”

Mary rolled her eyes, holding up a live Fleetwood Mac album in a questioning manner. She loved the band more than him; he wouldn’t even notice it was missing. He grunted in approval, and she stood to shove it into her leather tote. 

“I’ll give it back if you decide not to randomly hate me again next week.” Dick gave his own eye roll at her jab as she continued, “ Fine , what? What are we saying “Fine” for?”

“Fine. I’ll go check out Triumph.”

Mary took out a few files from her bag to see how best to place the CD. From where she stood, she had a good view of Dick splayed out on the couch. 

His expectant expression, coupled with the moonlight spilling in from the window, made the man look practically painted. Like the works of art at the Gotham City Museum that Mary forced herself to look at on her rare days off. 

The tea was lukewarm, but it helped wet her suddenly dry tongue before she replied, “I thought we already agreed on that.”

“No, I mean I’ll go check it out now.”

Dick was up in an instant, his foot-dragging replaced by a highly trained fervor. He was about halfway to his room to grab his suit when Mary’s brain caught up with her, and she followed. Standing in his doorway like a scolding mother, she raised an eyebrow as Dick looked for his missing boot. 

“I think you’re forgetting whose case this is.”

“Yeah, ours.”

“Mine. You can’t just go before me.”

Dick made a motion for her to turn so he could continue changing, and she planted her feet. As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t going anywhere, so he may as well quit trying to turn into Nightwing. 

“You’re a ridiculous woman, you know that? If you’re going to be so stubborn about this, then come with me.”

He tilted his head expectantly, like he already knew her answer. Because he did, it made annoyance build up in her throat, warm and itchy. 

“You know I swore I would never do anything blindly with Nightwing ever again.” Mary refused to lose her composure, fighting the rise of her tone. “I learned that from the lectures I got from Bruce and Alfred after your 20th. I’m not a Bat, I shouldn’t have been punished!”

Dick chuckled, coughing into his hand as her face reddened, both of them remembering the endeavor. They’d spent a good several hours “detained” at the Kent farm before they’d been released back to a furious Bruce. According to Dick, and only Dick, it had been worth it. 

“Then let me check out the circus.”

“Hey, buddy. How about no.”

Mary stepped further into the room, snatching the mask off his dresser and putting it into her pocket. Dick’s face told her the action was doing little to stop him from suiting up. He likely had a million strewn across his apartment. 

Mary breathed into her hands before standing directly in front of him. He tilted his head to look down at her, and she fought the urge to stick her tongue out. She was a grown woman, for goodness’ sake. 

“Come with me tomorrow.”

“I will. But I’m also going to see it in the shadows when no one is expecting us.”

She widened her eyes at her nose being booped and grabbed the offending finger. Taking a deep breath, she finally conceded. His logic was sound, infuriatingly sound. 

“I’ll be back in a jiff. Take a nap on the bed or couch. And I mean seriously, take a nap, I can practically see the stream you’re running on.” 

Mary ran her tongue over her teeth, glancing at a surprisingly neat bed. She narrowed her eyes at the hospital corners, wondering which father figure the habit had formed from. And then she turned back to the living room. He had to know that she wouldn’t be sleeping once he left. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“It’s said out of love, Mare.”

She shut the door firmly, allowing him to finish changing. Beginning to mentally calculate all the work she needed to get done, the concept of sleep was pushed far out of her mind. 

BLUDHAVEN - GRAYSON APARTMENT

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 4:45 AM

Dick watched her for a solid minute out the window. Mary’s back was turned, walking towards the kitchen, likely to make herself yet another cup of tea. He hated to admit it, but it was nice to have another person in the apartment. He chalked it up to Mary’s uncanny ability to soak up the space around him and not that he was lonely. 

He hadn’t felt alone since he texted her three months ago, and he refused to go back.

Placing his comm, he changed it to a familiar channel just to check in. 

“SHUT UPPPPPP”

Leaping across the city, he winced at the scream. At the current decibel, he couldn’t even tell who it was. 

“Hey, Spoiler. Yeah, what the fuck was that?” Jason evidently had clicked into the same line and now asked the burning question on everyone’s mind. 

“No, because - stop laughing - one of these little shits here - STOP.” 

There was a flurry of giggles on the other end before Cass barely got out, “Let me fix it for you!”

Dick bit back a smile as he changed to the next line, a stark difference from the last. The only sound was the grapple and the landing of feet. 

“Hey, B. Doing good?”

He’d just landed on top of a large spire overlooking the circus grounds located at the edge of the city. Even in the dark, it shone not with neon but metal instead. Some gaudy mix of modern tech and traditionalism. 

Bruce grunted in response before asking his own question, “Are you okay? How is Mary’s case?”

Dick sighed, leaning down to survey the scene. Not a soul in sight. 

“I’m alright. Busy, but we’re good. You know how she is.”

Snarky. Brilliant. A workaholic. 

He landed softly, circling one of the tents. One of them had to be maintenance, and if he could get some photos, then he and Mary could ….

“We?” A body fell from Bruce’s side of the comms. “The Cold War is finally over, I presume. Has Mariam connected the killings to Triumph yet?”

Dick paused, taking in the information. He wasn’t surprised the old man had known. If he had been surprised, he’d have to quit right on the spot because then he’d be losing his touch. 

“ We did. Anything else you want to share?”

“I believe I know as much as you know at the moment, then. Make sure you question sympathetic coworkers of Shelling, not just his superiors.”

Dick rolled his eyes. He wasn’t green; he’d been in this game for a while, “Obviously. Need any help at home?”

Another thud of a criminal hitting the ground, “We’ve got it handled.”

Hours later, the sun had crested over the horizon as Dick unlocked his front door. He’d changed at a safe house and carried a large bag of poppy-seed bagels he wasn’t partial to, but the woman inside adored. Mary couldn’t help the insomnia, but he could make sure that she ate like a normal person. 

“Is that coffee? Aces, you’re a godsend.” 

Mary beamed, actually beamed for a moment before she collected herself and turned back to what she was doing. But for the second that it lasted, Dick felt his world tilt on an axis and slam into a universe of normalcy. He blinked before stepping to see what she’d raided his kitchen for. 

“Yeah, and bagels.” He approached as she flipped over the egg she was frying. Eggs. She was making eggs. “They’ll go great with-”

“I’m sorry.” She interrupted quickly, “I went over everything a minimum of three times and then schemed with Mendez over the phone. I didn’t want to snoop through your home for an iron for my clothes, so tada !” She waved her fingers over the eggs as he reached above her for a plate on the cabinet. 

“This isn’t snooping?” He questioned with a wink. 

Mary stepped back, putting space between. She picked up the drink he got her, inspecting it before nodding approvingly. He’d ordered it with two extra pumps of caramel and prayed it was enough. 

“You let me in.” She replied with a shrug, “Daniel’s been talking your detective’s ear off since … thirty minutes ago. I don’t question his methods, but I’ve known him long enough that they were likely annoying. He got me and a plus one clearance to the circus.” 

Dick took a bite of the breakfast he assembled as Mary hopped up onto the counter, clicking her heels. Chewing, he took a good look at her. She’d arrived wearing another version of her work uniform. Slacks, blouse, blazer, badge. The last two had luckily been left behind at the hotel. It was still far too professional for what they were doing. 

“You didn’t pack anything besides business casual, did you?” He asked gingerly, setting down the bagel. He was hoping that she wouldn’t reply the way he was expecting. 

“Well, golly. I’m sorry I didn’t bring my little black dress for the serial case I’m working on.” Her surly expression brightened, gray eyes twinkling, as he gave her the pictures he’d taken. 

He finished his food as she inspected them, thinking out loud, “Not a big enough space for two maintenance hands. Shelling must’ve been overworked, which means he wouldn’t have a lot of time for conversation.”

“Limits our POI pool for the dominant partner.” He smiled back, dropping his plate into the sink and beckoning her to follow. “As much as I’d love to see that dress. You’re going to have to settle for something I have in here.” He entered his room, rummaging through a drawer. “White tee?”

Mary bent down, face-to-face with him. His breath stalled for a moment before she stated, “No.”

“Mary, you need to look less like a cop. No self-respecting performer is going to talk to you.” The people at Triumph weren’t his favorite, but even they wouldn’t snoop so low as to snitch. “Put it on.”

“What’s the point of bringing you on if I don’t use you to get to the masses and me to be myself? Let me put these creepy eyes to use. I love playing bad cop.”

Mary made her way back to the living room, ignoring his exasperation. And then she did something that practically sent Dick into a spiral. She pulled out the damn badge from her bag and clipped it to her waist. 

“Your eyes are not creepy.” Dick leaned against the doorway, the t-shirt now feeling useless in his hands. The plan she was forming wasn’t a bad one, especially considering he’d already scouted the place. “So you want to split up when we get there?”

“At least for the start. I’ll find you when I’m fiending for some funnel cake.” 

He checked the clock; they could be leaving now and be done before the morning was over. Key’s twirling on his fingers, Mary picked up the memo, tossing her bag over her shoulder. It was early enough outside that the summer heat hadn’t hit yet. 

“You eat funnel cake?”

“I’m from small-town America. I’d probably eat a fried shoe. Do you eat funnel cake, Mr. Vigilante?”

BLUDHAVEN 

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 8:00 AM

Dick drove as he always did. Cautiously reckless. It was a culture shock after being subjected to Mendez’s pure recklessness for almost a whole year. 

“We’re going to be looking for someone intelligent. Smart enough to arrange crime scenes. Because neither Dyson nor Shelling would have the foresight to move bodies to spots with the greatest shock value.” Mary reached into her bag, pulling out her sunglasses to fight against the morning sun. 

Dick nodded, flipping his turn signal on. The Bludhaven streets seemed brighter, but they were just as windy and twisting as downtown Gotham. “What did Dr. Bircham always say? Humiliation or shock. That’s what most killers are going after.”

Mary grinned, the conversation reviving her groggy brain, like it was a soaking rag someone was ringing out, “Correct. He’s going for what will make us have a visceral response. The doll with Carolyn Dyson’s same markings, the Kool-Aid. He’s intelligent, likely in a leadership role at Triumph.” 

The car took another sharp turn, screeching as someone ran a stop sign. Dick cursed, reaching an arm out to stop her body from jolting, before laying on his horn. 

“Someone needs to give that guy a ticket.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

He side-eyed her, “My job, until this case is over, is to be with you. I’m not above bribing my boss if he starts getting prissy about it.” 

Mary formed a heart with her hands sarcastically, before leaning to turn up the music. She set it a bit too loudly … Mendez must have rubbed off on her more than she expected. Dick didn’t turn it down. 

“It’s some new band out of the Narrows. I don’t know, everyone from Bab’s to Tim to Jason has been on my case about it, so I bought the CD.” They stopped at a red light, and Dick turned to her to catch the tail end of her humming along. 

“Oh, believe me. I know. Tim dramatically hounded me the last time our paths crossed at a crime scene.” The car sped up again right out of the city limits, and she could see the barest hint of a circus tent. “I went with a coworker in January to see them live.”

“You go outside?” Dick held his hand to his chest dramatically, turning again with the other hand. 

Mary nodded. If she was honest with herself, the band hadn’t been good enough to justify the price of the tickets, and the venue had been freezing. But Cathy, from the organized crime division, was a fellow Gotham U alumnus. The slightly older woman had convinced her that visiting their stomping grounds for the performance would be nostalgic. 

She peeked at Dick, the action hidden by the dark tint of her glasses. If she were even more honest, most of the nostalgia from the concert had been tainted with bitterness. Every time she turned to her left, she’d been disappointed, half-expecting an 18-year-old Richard Grayson to be ecstatically yelling beside her. 

Her throat made a strange noise as she cleared it, “Obviously, even I have to go outside once in a while.”

A phone pinged as Dick pulled into a grassy parking lot, following an attendant’s instructions on where to go. Mary looked down, the ping came from her phone from Daniel. She read the long message and immediately sent out a response of gratitude for the angel of a man. 

“Anyways, changing the subject. My partner finalized the geographic profile to correlate it to the Triumph. It’s likely how he got us clearance to look the place over; it practically confirms our killer has a connection to the circus.”

The car finally shut off, and Mary opened her door, stepping into the late morning air and promptly getting her heel stuck in a patch of mud. It made a squelching noise as she forced it out, giving the parking attendant a pointed look. 

Of all the spots to have us park. 

She heard Dick’s laugh already a few feet away, “You good? Need me to carry you?”

Making her way gingerly, avoiding the more water-logged grass, she finally saw his cocky grin. “No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself. Plenty of women would kill for the offer.” 

She couldn’t help the laugh of her own, always so high-pitched and fleeting. She cringed at the noise, “You’re so full of it.” 

Together, they approached the entrance tent manned by yet another bored teenager. Mary wondered how much Triumph could possibly be paying them to make the summer job worth it. 

“Welcome to Cirque Triumph, where your dreams fly. Just two tickets?”

Dick produced the tickets Barbara had sent him a few hours prior, and Mary leaned against the abnormally tall counter, practically on her toes. She offered the acne-marked boy a smile she hoped mixed professionalism and charm well. Considering that his dull expression didn’t change, she had to assume that she’d missed the mark. 

“Good morning. My name is Detective Mariam Hayes. I’m a profiler for the GCPD, conducting an investigation, and this is my colleague Officer Grayson. Can we speak to your employer?” 

A slight expression of fear flashed across the boy’s face, “Is this because of what I did last night?”

Dick offered an easy smile. It looked so much better on him than on her. Likely because he’d gotten it down to a practiced art like the maniac he was. 

“Did you kill someone?”

“No.”

“Then I think you’re fine. Why don’t you just give us a map, mark down where the performers are staying, and tell us if the big boss is here?” 

Two minutes later, they held a dual copy of a map of the grounds, walking into the opening area of the circus. Mary looked at the main performance tent in front of them. It was a large metallic structure painted to look like a traditional circus tent. But ten times larger. 

She looked to Dick on her left, who scowled. And ten times more offensive to the former acrobat, it seemed. 

“You going to be okay here?” Mary asked, taking in his body language. He wasn’t tensing up in any other emotion than annoyance, which was a good sign.

“Hmm. Yeah, I’ll be good, why?”

She licked her lips, thinking of the best way to approach the topic as they passed by the food vendors. Approaching this subject, let alone any part of his personal life and family, was tricky business. Considering the last time she’d tried years ago had ended with slammed doors and holding back tears, she shouldn’t even be risking it. 

But she did anyway. 

“Because of your history. Because of what happened at Haly’s.”

Smooth Hayes. Real smooth. 

Dick paused, and she braced herself for him to tell her to mind her own business and stop profiling him. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, eyes crinkling kindly. Mary furrowed her brow. He had every right to yell; she wouldn’t blame him if he did. 

“No, I’ll be okay. Thanks for asking, Mare,” she watched his chest rise as he took a deep breath, “Your head and heart okay too?”

Her eyebrows practically knit together as she processed the question, “Excuse me?”

“Random break-ins with no explanation of how the killer got there. Kate Dyson letting her kidnapper in? I know you have to have connected it to your hometown at least once.” 

Mary averted her gaze. Once. Only once had she lost control during this case and gone back to when she was ten. While waiting for the call at Daniel and Val’s house. 

Black sedans. Strawberry blonde braids. Doctor’s offices. 

Bile built in her throat, and she shook her head, “Correlation versus causation. Sadly, lots of my cases line up with what happened in Nowelsland.” 

“And not every acrobat or gymnast fall is sabotage. Doesn’t stop our brains from going there.” Dick tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear and started walking again, “So, you okay?”

“Right as rain,” she pointed to the maintenance tent and then the performer location, “Remember. White male, late twenties to mid-thirties. Charming, intelligent, organized. Likely displays power reassurance behavior with incredibly low aggression in public, maybe even meek around those he perceives as above him.” 

Dick ticked off each point on his fingers before backing away, “Got it. I guess this is where we split up, gorgeous. Don’t aggravate too many people without me.”

Mary offered a mock salute, stepping back herself, “Yeah, yeah. Go use that Flying Grayson privilege.”

Chapter Text

BALTIMORE SUN

FBI Joins 3-Month Search In Remote Mountain Town After Child Vanishes. 

With fewer than 1,000 residents, Nowelsland is a town most didn't know existed before January.

Now, it's the center of an FBI investigation as ... 

Nowelsland, Maryland - Hayes Orchard 

Fifteen Years Ago - Mary 

April 18th, 3:00 PM

Music drifted from the kitchen, intercepted by the clattering of pans as an airy voice muttered to herself. The open screen door, creaking slightly in the breeze, allowed the slightest whiff of spring air to stir through the still home. There was a pause in the music as the woman leaned into the doorway. 

“Mariam, did your father say when he’d be back?” 

Two braids whipped around as the little girl tore herself from the window nook. She answered distractedly about how ‘Daddy had mentioned something about the cherry trees looking off’. 

That meant he’d be out long after dinner was done. 

“Mama, do you know anyone with a black Sedan?” Mary cocked her head, craning to see outside. A dark vehicle had just driven past and onto the Atillas’ land, and the curiosity was gnawing on her. 

Her mother offered a non-response, laughing about how they’d recognize if anyone got a new car. Just over the bend, the crunch of another set of wheels on gravel could be heard.

One lost stranger could be brushed off, but two were practically unheard of. 

Bare feet hit the wooden floor as Mary launched herself off the cushions, tearing open the front door. She was on the porch just in time to see two more fancy cars make their way past the home and up the steep hill to the Atillas. 

“I’m going to the neighbors,” Mary yelled, dashing before her mother could reply. She’d already received enough warnings not to bother the poor family and to stop wandering around without an adult. 

Statements that had been unheard of in Nowelsland … until Kristy Atilla had gone missing. 

Mary made quick work of the large hill separating the two families’ plots of land. She didn’t want to miss the strangers. 

“Sorry!” she waved a hand as she cut through Dr. Goodes’ yard, only slowing to duck behind Mrs. Atillas bushes. Sheriff Holcomb’s gruff voice could be heard introducing the strangers to the couple. 

“You’ve got to be straight with me, sir. Are we looking for her body?” Benjamin Atilla’s voice cracked on the last word. Mary frowned; she’d never seen the man upset in her entire life. 

“Typically after 24 hours, yes”, an unfamiliar clipped tone advised. “But in towns this small, the cases are unique. Whoever has your daughter likely has a strong connection to her.”

Small hands picked at the mud on her cuffs, nose scrunched to the high heavens. On their walk home from school earlier that day, the Rowen twins had told her someone had snatched Kristy from her room. Which was funny because that entire day, Mrs. Atilla had been planting flowers under her daughter’s bedroom window. 

Mary knew that for a fact because after being told Kristy was too sick to play, she’d spent most of the day running around between home, the Goode’s, and the Atillas. That is, until her braids had fallen out and Dr. Goode had ordered her to ‘go get her Mama to fix that mess of hair’.

“Mariam, what in the world are you doing here?”

The ten-year-old was pulled out of her musings as a pair of boots stomped right in front of the bushes and hauled her up. Sheriff Holcomb looked down at her, brushing off her overalls. 

Mary pursed her lips, avoiding the stern look, “I wanted to see the visitors.”

“Well, you saw them, so tuck your tail in and go home, would ya?”

One of the strangers, a man in a fancy but wrinkled suit, watched her with interest. His head inclined the slightest, and his eyes lit up with some sort of idea. 

“Actually, I’d love to talk to her if that’s okay. Is there a guardian around?”

Sheriff Holcomb raised his hands, “Go for it. God knows her parents won’t mind.”

The man, an FBI agent no doubt, led Mary to the wooden steps of the home. He sat down, stretching his legs with a groan. His back must hurt, Mary mused as she bit her lip, taking him in. He was tall, with dark skin and a bald head that shone in the sunlight like a beacon. 

“I’m Agent Brookes.” He offered a smile, one that was kind but didn’t light up his face, “Were you friends with Kristy, Mariam?

Mary stared ahead at where Atilla’s mailbox was slightly bent. Someone must have bumped it with a car. 

“I played with Kristy sometimes, but she’s been real sick lately.” She toed at heart shaped rock in front of her, “But she hasn’t played with anyone since she turned 13 and became too grown-up.”

Agent Brookes nodded, “So not really friends, huh? Who were her friends? Was anyone around more often?”

Mary shook her head, “No one besides the Moroney girls and Dr. Goode. But like I said, she’s been sick.”

The man leaned down closer to her, pointing to the doctor’s house. From his porch, Goode stood, waving with a smile. Mary scowled back.

“You don’t like him?” Agent Brookes questioned, his eyes lighting up with thought once more. 

“He doesn’t like me . He pretends to, though,” she crossed her arms. 

Mama always said not to talk ill of others, but the doctor was always ruining her fun, claiming she was ‘snooping’.

“Well, most people don’t take well to kids sneaking on their properties like you just did.”

Mary shook her head adamantly, “Wouldn’t matter if I was playin spies or not. Which I don’t, I play fairies now. It’s not my fault that his yard has the best wildflowers.” She squinted at the doctor on his porch, and the agent watched intently with her. “He just doesn’t like it when I catch him in lies.”

Reaching into his back pocket, Brookes slowly pulled out a leather notebook. Mary wanted to reach out to push back the frayed edge. 

“What’s he lie about?”

“Appointment times, things he’s doing, things he’s seen. Mama says he just grievin’ and that I’m being impolite. But if you ask my Daddy”, she leaned forward, eyes wide, “He’s been like that since before Janey died. Daddy says Dr. Goodes’ smile has never reached his eyes.” 

The agent paused his writing, grip tightening on his pen. He looked back at the now-empty porch across the road. 

“That’s very insightful, Mariam-”

“Mary”, the child corrected 

“Do you usually notice these sorts of things?”

A monarch landed on one of the milkweeds next to the steps, and Mary leaned over to count its spots. There were 25. The agent repeated the question again, and she sat back up. 

“Mhmm. I try to because Daddy says it’s important to keep a keen eye. Otherwise, you get blights and rots. Do you ever get root rot in the city?”

Brookes laughed, like most adults did when something wasn’t really funny, “I can’t say I’ve noticed. I look more at people and how they act. It’s a process called profiling, kinda like how you notice Dr. Goode’s behavior.”

“Did you notice he’s been watching us this entire time? And then he ran inside like his oven was still on.”

“Yes, I did. I’m going to see if I can talk to him later.” The agent stood, offering her a hand. Mary took it, jumping down the two steps. Agent Brookes called another man over, whispering something before turning back to her. 

“Well, Mary . You are a very perceptive little girl. I hope you know that, I think your observations may just help in our case.”

Mary clasped her arms behind her back as her mother hollered for her, cutting through the silence. “I hope you find Kristy soon. She never liked being alone.”

“I hope so, too, kid. Now, why don’t you head home?”

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH 

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 8:30 AM

Mary clasped her hands behind her back as the burly man guided her into one of the temporary building structures. The circus had finally woken up, a merry tune in the air and performers milling about. 

“Can’t say I saw Conrad often. He did his job and left. Damn good job too, cleaning after our patrons isn’t easy.”

The circus’s Ringmaster, Louis Triumph, was a man larger than life, dressed in a striped suit and a hat that added another inch against Mary. But he was also jolly and a well-loved employer … if his many morning greetings said anything about him. 

Considering that, plus his advanced age, Mary put a bright red X on his person of interest status. She doubted the man was even capable of saying a rude phrase. 

“Mornin’, Coco, break a leg.” The clown waved back wildly as Louis searched for the key to the maintenance building, “I’m mighty happy that your department is willing to look over the way we hired him. Keeping an operation like this-”

Mary held a hand, stopping him. He really shouldn’t say more than he had to. 

“Murder trumps tax evasion.” She surveyed the room, which was more of a tin can on wheels. “We’re not necessarily looking for a friend of Conrad’s. Was anyone on your team condescending to him? Making him run errands.” 

“If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. But since you did me a favor, I’ll do you one. Ask any of my performers and they’ll answer honestly.” A sweaty palm placed several vouchers into her palm, “And enjoy yourself today, young lady. Get yourself something sweet.”

Mary offered a polite smile and assured him she would before shoving the cards in her pocket. The second Louis retreated, she reached into her bag, pulling out a sterile pair of gloves. 

Mendez called it the Mary Poppins tote. She called it a seven-hundred-dollar fine leather investment. 

Either way, it came in handy, she thought as she shoved the box back into it. Stepping further into the trailer, her sunglasses were pushed to the top of her head as she ran a hand over one of the supply cabinets. 

“I like order and I like patterns. My hallucinations build off the concept.” Mary spoke aloud, eyes flitting over the bottles. A jug of hydrogen peroxide sat right next to the glass cleaner. “When there is order, the voices constantly in my head get quieter.” 

She side-stepped to the shelf next to it. It held emergency cleaning supplies. Only medical emergency supplies. Alphabetized. 

Her eyes narrowed. 

She stepped back to the first shelf, clicking her tongue. Glass cleaner, toilet cleaner, gloves haphazardly stacked, disinfectant. One bottle lay on its side. 

It looked neat at first glance, but compared to the second shelf, it was a complete mess. 

“Aces, that must’ve sent Shelling into a spiral.” 

Which is exactly what I would want if I wanted to use his mind against him. 

Their suspect had known Shelling enough to deliberately tamper with his workspace in a way that would agitate him. Despite Louis’s assurance that the man kept to himself, someone must have been close enough to Conrad Shelling to notice his mental state. Mary took a deep breath, eyeing the third locked shelf. 

Behind the glass was gauze, more medical supplies, and a few bottles of what looked like aspirin and Tylenol. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Trust me, it did.” Mary whirled around at the voice, meeting a pair of smiling green eyes, “He hated when the performers borrowed things and put ‘em back wrong.”

The short man wiped his hands on his scrubs, approaching to shake her own. He faltered when he noticed her gloves and offered an awkward wave instead. Sandy blonde hair stood up straight from where he’d run a hand through it. 

Mary blinked, something on the tip of her tongue. It clouded her thoughts of the case. The man was so familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why. 

“Sorry, FPCP Mariam Hayes?” He didn’t have to bend down far to read her badge, and he straightened quickly, looking at her quizzically. “Are you-?”

“Forensic Psychology Criminal Profiler. But detective is just fine, I’m working a case on your coworker Conrad Shelling.”

The man shook his head, smiling widely, “Nah, that’s not - I was gonna ask, but I can see it now. You’re Emily and Nathan’s kid. Geez, Mary, I don’t know if you remember me-”

“Parker Holcomb?” Mary’s eyes widened; she didn’t like the way her practiced tone slipped so easily back into her Nowelsland twang. She slipped off the gloves to finally offer him his handshake, “Forgive me for not recognizing you. I don’t think even my Mama’s heard anything from y’all since your Mama and Sheriff got divorced.”

Parker leaned easily against the table next to her. The years had been easy on him, despite Mary distinctly remembering him being a few classes above her, “Nah, you’re all good, hun. I honestly couldn’t recognize little Mary Hayes without her hair a complete mess. How much did that cost ya?”

Truthfully, her constant salon appointments cost more than she was willing to admit. Mary fought the urge to reach up to touch her hair, taking a deep breath. Counting to three, she reminded herself that she was working a case. 

“It cost enough. You knew Shelling?”

Parker shrugged in response, “We shared the shelves for supplies, but I’m always in the medic tent. You wouldn’t believe how often the child patrons are getting hurt. I barely leave it, and it’s sadly not air-conditioned.”

“You’re a nurse?”

“I was an EMT for a while before this gig. Saving up for nursing school, swear I’m going to be the oldest guy in the class.”

Mary scrunched her nose. With his baby face, it wouldn’t be so bad. He honestly looked like he could pass for twenty.

With that thought, a mental alarm in her brain switched on and into overdrive. 

White, male, late twenties.

But Parker had never been particularly intelligent in his youth. And he’d gotten along with everyone, never a tinge of social awkwardness. Her brain conflicted itself as she mentally replayed his clumsy introduction. People could change, but a nice kid didn’t suddenly become a murderous adult without reason. 

She needed a reason for or against the idea. 

“Well, congratulations.” Mary grinned, offering her best impression of Dick. “Say, would you have time to tell me about Shelling. You must have known at least something, considering you shared this space.”

Light hair fought gravity even further as the medic ran his hand through it, checking his watch, “I’d love to, but I’m already away from the tent long enough.” He moved past her to unlock the glass cabinet, pulling out a package of bandages. “But tonight is our last show of the season. Why don’t we meet tomorrow in Gotham? Show me your new city, Haysey.”

Mary bit her cheek as he looked her up and down. The conversation had taken a left turn down a road she didn’t want. She didn’t let the smile loosen; she’d learned from the best. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m working.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. It’ll break my heart if it ain’t a date.” He tossed the gauze into the air, handing her a card, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll meet ya tomorrow night and tell you everything I know. Just two old neighbors catching up.”

“You lived across town.”

“The town was the size of a thumbtack.” He called back, bumping into a frowning Dick who stood at the doorway, “Sorry, man.”

Mary turned the business card over in her hands. She didn’t have time for this, but she also had no choice. This was the only person who even remembered Shelling. 

“What was that?” The words tumbled out a Dick’s mouth a bit too quickly, as she crossed the room to join him outside. 

Her cheeks felt uncomfortably hot as she replied, “I think I’m going to get drinks with a POI tomorrow … ” The muscles in her neck felt uncomfortably stiff as she stretched them. “Do you want funnel cake?” 

Dick looked at her blankly, and she put the vouchers she was holding up back in her pocket slowly. 

“Are you going?”

“I’d be stupid not to”

Another blank stare. She waved a hand over his face. Sure, she wasn’t used to going undercover or playing a masked role like him. But pretending to like a guy for at least an hour was a skill in every girl’s repertoire. 

“I think you’d be stupid to go.” Dick’s look was earnest, which made the sting even worse. 

He truly believed she couldn’t do it. Even if Holcomb was the killer, it wasn’t like she was going to let him into her home to murder her then and there. And she sincerely doubted that Sheriff Holcomb’s son was capable of pulling something like that off. 

“Agree to disagree. Funnel cake?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “What is with you and this funnel cake today?”

“I’ve got a voucher now. That means extra money for extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce on top.” 

She was expecting a call any minute from Mendez saying they’d be relocated back to Gotham by the afternoon. There was nothing else for them in Bludhaven anymore. And she wanted to make the most of it. 

“Come onnnnn. You can’t say no to powdered sugar and strawberries.” With her hands practically wrenching on his arm, Dick finally came back to life. 

He pursed his lips, hiding a grin as he dug his heels into the ground, “I dunno. I’m watching my figure.”

Mary snorted, pulling at him once more. He finally relented, placing an arm over her shoulder, as they made their way towards the already forming line. 

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH 

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 9:30 AM

It took fifteen minutes of waiting for them to get their food. Mary tilted her head, looking at the people passing by. Forming mini-profiles was her favorite activity; it always had been. Playing, “Let’s form mini-profiles,” with the sole purpose of throwing her off her game was Dick’s personal favorite activity. 

He pointed to a family that looked perfect but clearly had argued that morning. The mother’s blunt bob swung aggressively with each step, and her hand was poised as if to grab her son’s backpack at any moment. 

“You think one of her kids pointed out her bowl cut before they left?”

Mary inhaled a shaky breath at his snarky comment, tapping her foot as the family passed. She held on for three more seconds before devolving into a fit of twinkling laughter. Jingly, and sparkly, and oh so rare for her. 

It made his sour mood from earlier lighten even further, as much as he hated to admit it. 

He still made an extra check in his mental notebook to check out whoever Parker Holcomb was using the cave’s computer that evening. 

“That was just cruel.” Mary titled her container to allow him to take the final bite, which he gleefully did, “You’re just a middle school girl in a hot guy’s body.”

“It was honest.” Dick swiped at his mouth, grabbing their trash. “She’s being an overbearing mother hen. And I know about overbearing mother hens.” 

“Cut Bruce some slack.”

“Nah, cut Bruce’s schedule and give him a sedative. You know I’ve been with him since I was ten, and I’ve never seen him take a true break.”

It was astounding how the rest of the world’s 24 hours were quadrupled for Batman. Dick had to give it to him; his adoptive father was one of the most efficient, hardworking people he’d ever met. 

It didn’t change the fact that he also hovered around his children, as if they’d cause an international crisis if left alone.

Dick was hit with the sudden flashback of everything Tim had done with his Young Justice team. And the “mission” Damian and Jon Kent had decided to take on last week. And Jason’s emergence as Red Hood. And most prominently, Dick’s own time with the Teen Titans. 

… 

Maybe Bruce had a point.

… 

And maybe Mary did as well at the mention of cutting Bruce some slack. 

“You know I wouldn’t mind a sedative if you guys keep that in stock.” Mary added offhandedly as she watched a few performers leave the main tent, “You get any information out of the acrobats?”

Dick shook his head. Infuriatingly, no one really seemed to have noticed Shelling besides some of the younger contortionists and the medic who had asked Mary out. 

Who the hell asked an investigating cop out on a date? 

“No. Shelling was a fly on the wall. But I do think it would be wise for you to ask a few of them about Holcomb.”

Mary stood up straight, wiping powdered sugar off her slacks. Dick reached over to snag the badge off her belt. 

“I don’t care what the Ringmaster said. These people are going to talk more if you’re my friend and not a cop.”

“Can I be former acrobat turned billionaire’s son, Dick Grayson’s PR manager instead. Look, I’ve already got the outfit.” She motioned to her white button-down, her voice teasing. 

“You can be my date for all it matters. As long as Detective Hayes is left at the funnel cake stand.” 

Mary sighed, following him to one of the practice tents, “Sadly, I’ve already got a date. How about a freshman year college lab partner turned best friend?” 

Dick bit his tongue at the statement. Her teasing didn’t take away from the fact that they were so close to being what they once were. He wasn’t sure why that fact didn’t fill him with satisfaction. 

It was what he wanted, right? To have his best friend back. 

What more could he ask for?

“I don’t know. Sounds a bit too far-fetched, who’s going to believe that cover story?”

Mary laughed once more as she ducked under the arm he used to hold open the tent flap. Standing beside her, he watched as her eyes darted intently as one of the performers leaped into the air. 

Dick sighed as the young man wobbled on his landing. Mary continued to observe with barely concealed awe. The performers were good, but they weren’t great. A circus like Triumph that prioritized shock value profit would never allow them to develop the skills to be great. 

“I can’t even imagine what your parents were like.” Mary didn’t look away from the flips, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Dick held his breath. 

His parents had been perfect for him. In every sense of the word. 

Perfect performers. Perfect partners. The perfect mother and father. 

And he’d spent his entire life searching for that perfection. To carry that quality with him and make them proud. 

Mary turned to him, her expression softening. Her gift of perception made it difficult to hide any emotion from her. “Sorry, that was overstepping.”

He shook his head, trying to assemble the flurry of thoughts in it. He’d never been as good as she was at picking the perfect words. Which was funny because - 

“No, you’re perfect -” He shook his head again, “I mean. You’re fine . My parents were experts; they were like birds soaring. Top of their craft. Like you, honestly, naturally born to do what they do.” 

“Fitting that you became a bird then, too, hmm?”

“Maybe?”

“Not maybe. It’s not a coincidence. It’s honoring a legacy.” Mary stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she began analyzing what she saw in front of her, “And you’re doing a damn good job at it.” 

Dick felt his brain short-circuit. The words he was trying to form felt like putty in his mouth. The blonde in front of him didn’t notice as she said her next words cautiously. 

“Does that beam those little girls are swinging on seem stable?”

Like a band snapped into place, Dick glanced over. The girls couldn’t be older than ten, small, dark-haired. Their combined weight shouldn’t have been enough to make the support sway like that. 

But it did. Just the slightest. 

Chapter Text

June 22nd, 10:10 AM

I've got two adorable seven-year-olds for you to interview. 

June 22nd, 10:10 AM

OMW. 

Best news I've ever heard.

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH

ONE AND A HALF HOURS AGO - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 8:30 AM

The young acrobat sped across the path, Dick following close behind. Andreas Solis had the look of a performer, like a pixie who had come to life with sharp features that were highlighted more by Triumph’s sparkling costumes. He also had the confidence of one, which meant that on the POI scale, he was very, very low. 

Mary’s voice rang in his head, “ White male, late twenties, lower confidence, possibly even meek.”

Of all the factors of the profile, Andreas only fits the male category. He was clean for the moment. 

“It’s really, really cool that you’re visiting us. I remember my parents putting on old Flying Grayson performances for me as a kid. I couldn’t get enough of it.” 

“Really?” How often had Dick heard that line? Pretending to be interested was like second nature, even if the tug on his lips made him feel like he was wearing someone else’s skin, “You’re making me feel old. How old are you?”

“17 … well, 18 actually, my birthday was yesterday.”

“Well, happy belated birthday. Two of my brothers are around that age, too."

The statement pushed the kid into a spiel about his own family. Dick let him talk.  

The age put Andreas directly out of the range they were looking for. He was the type of kid in his late teens that would have intimidated Kate Dyson, meaning even in the same room, their paths would have never crossed. Andreas would have barely noticed Kate, let alone had the foresight to manipulate her into killing her parents. 

Clean as a whistle. 

The teen pushed back one of the tent flaps for Dick to enter, and he surveyed the performers stretching before their show. He looked down at his pants and shoes, fighting the urge to wipe the costume glitter off. Maybe he’d been away from the circus far too long; the glitz of the trade conflicted with the stealth of his double life. 

“Hey, guys!” Andreas called, waving his hands, “This is Dick Grayson. Like from the Flying Graysons. He’s checking us out, so don’t suck right now.”

“How do we know he’s the real deal?” A light voice asked as a woman with bright pink hair practically encrusted with the same jewels on her leotard passed, “Could be a deranged fan.”

“You get those often?” Dick crossed his arms, leaning against one of the support beams. If any dedicated patrons could be their dominant serial killer, the performers would be the first to know, “I was young when I left, but there were always a few that followed us wherever we went.” 

The girl’s partner, an older gentleman who had sprayed his grays a bright blue, gave him a pat on the shoulder, “It’s not a given anymore. Louis’ profit is good enough that he’s just been kickin’ the creeps out.”

“Delia, you’re on in five, babe.” A clown, already sweating off a good chunk of his makeup, peeked in, waving her away. 

The girl raised her hands in annoyance as she left, a trail of sequins following her, “And good riddance. He should’ve fired that freak janitor too, Andy, did you hear he killed a girl?”

“No way. We had a janitor?” Andreas’ eyes practically bugged out of his head as his jaw slacked, “I’ve been cleaning up after my own messes. You know about this, Jim?”

Following Delia out, the blue-haired man, Jim, shook his head, “ I stopped looking at the news since we arrived in Jersey. There’s a murder here every hour. If Louis is contracting out janitorial staff, I’m not surprised the Bludhaven help turned out to be trigger-happy.”

That struck almost every single performer off the suspect list. It was like Shelling didn’t exist to these people. A devoted patron was still a possibility, but would require some finesse in looking into ticket sales from Bab’s. He’d have to make some calls. 

Dick watched their departure; the flapping of the tent’s entrance allowed him a view of the growing crowd. The two had left without a single piece of equipment or harness, straight to the main stage. He pursed his lips, annoyance radiating hot from his fingertips up his forearms. 

“Who hooks them in? You got harnesses backstage?”

Andreas reached for one of the trapeze bars, dangling his feet the slightest, “No. Most of their tricks are prerecorded and projected, so they don’t need them. We only do the end posing live.”

It took everything in Dick not to roll his eyes at the statement. 

Fucking new age tech circuses. 

“Nice … Have you ever wanted to do live performances?”

The boy beamed, flipping himself upside down. He had natural talent; it was a shame it was being utilized in this way. Maybe he could slip him Haly’s information and set him onto a more honorable acrobatic path. 

“Oh, every day. I’ve been trying to convince my boss, but he’s already sunk so much money into the recording stuff. But I’ve been practicing some aerial tricks and I think I’m getting pretty good.”

Andreas’s excitement for the craft was practically contagious. Dick uncrossed his arms, making his way to the middle of the room. The boy watched him expectantly as he emptied his pockets, rolling up his sleeves. 

“Really? Show me what you got?”

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 10:00 AM

She’d seen Dick move fast. Nightwing had once landed on her car during a gridlock when Ivy had escaped. He’d moved so quickly she hadn’t even had time to process that a person had landed on her KIA, let alone cuss him out. 

Still, Mary swore, the second her question about the swinging beam had left her mouth, he’d already been across the room. She caught up a few seconds later, jogging to where he had hauled the girls off the beam with both hands. 

The little girl’s flustered expression softened as the nice man bent beside them, explaining in a calm voice what was wrong. With the number of siblings Dick had, it was no surprise that he was good with kids. 

The fact didn’t stop the warmth in her heart as she watched the exchange. He smiled at the girls genuinely, not practiced or rehearsed. 

It was like sunshine, warm and comforting. 

“Do we have to go see Mr. Holcomb?” One of the girls asked quizzically, looking down at her arms for some sort of imaginary injury. 

“No, sweetheart, I don’t think you have to. We just have to tell an adult and not use that broken equipment.”

The twins nodded earnestly, and Mary smiled as they spotted her. She offered a small wave of her fingers and gave Dick a nudging look. Talking to kids was Mendez’s specialty. If he were here, he would’ve gotten the girls to spill every secret in existence to him.

Unfortunately, he was back at the station, which put the task directly onto her. 

With a soft hello, Mary lowered herself down to sit criss-crossed next to the standing children. Her partner had once mentioned something about it helping with the power imbalance between adults and kids. 

“Would you ladies mind answering some questions about Mr. Holcomb to my friend here. Her name is Mary. Like the girl who lost her little lamb.”

The girls nodded again, and the more vocal of the two replied, “My name’s Brandee, and this is Brooke. We’re the Parrott twins. Where’s your lamb?”

Suddenly, the costumes the two children wore made much more sense. They were dressed as sparkly red and blue birds, feathers and all. Adorable and very on theme. 

Mary fought the urge to chuckle, “It’s with my daddy back on his farm. Did you know I grew up in the same place as Mr. Holcomb?” 

“Really! But he’s so weird, and you’re not so weird. You’re so pretty, you have hair like Rapunzel.” 

Brooke piped up, hidden slightly by her sister, “No, it’s not, it’s not long like Rapunzel.” 

Mary blinked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Weird’ in a child’s vocabulary could mean a lot of things, but they didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable mentioning Parker. 

She sat with her thoughts for a moment, cherry-picking the best sentence that wouldn’t shut the conversation down. 

“Really? Why is he weird?”

Brandee shrugged, her sweet eyes avoiding Mary’s direct gaze. “I dunno. He’s always asking when our birthday is. He’s silly, I hope he gets us a biiiiggg present.” 

Mary hummed as the small acrobat spread her arms wide, “Has he ever made you feel unsafe?”

A pair of childish laughter answered her question, “No, silly. He’s the nurse. He helps you feel better.” 

Brooke spoke up shyly, playing with her sleeve. She’d moved closer and closer to Dick over time. “Mister, your friend is funny.”

Dick flicked the faux feather on her head as he stood after Mary. Her knees cracked on the way up, while he’d maintained the fluid crouch with grace. It was truly unfair. 

“Isn’t she the funniest? That’s why I keep her around.”

Mary rolled her eyes, pulling out her phone as she walked away. Maybe an interview with Mendez would be the right course of action for understanding the girls. She clicked her tongue at her partner’s immediate enthusiastic text back.

As they left the tent, she pulled her sunglasses back down. The sun was blazing hotter and hotter. It seemed that the heatwave was making a slow course from Gotham towards Bludhaven. 

She’d be happy to be home then. 

“Success?”

“It’s something. I’ve got one potential suspect.”

Dick was about to reply, mouth poised to either give a teasing retort or additional insight to the case. 

Whatever he was going to say was cut early by the sound of several screams and the thundering of feet. Mary wasn’t even sure the moment her feet went airborne as Dick pulled her to the ground. 

It must have been somewhere between the music stopping and pandemonium hitting. 

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH 

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 10:15 AM

Dick paused, listening beyond the screams. There was no sound of a gunshot or struggle following the original panic. Someone was hurling their lunch several feet away, but whatever had occurred wasn’t an active threat. 

Hot breath breathed against his neck as a heel accidentally kicked against his shin. It was just enough to make him wince. 

“Would you get off of me?” Mary squeaked, struggling against his hold from where he’d tackled her and dragged her behind the nearest stable structure. 

Letting go, he stood quickly, offering her a hand, which got him a thanks at least. Her white blouse was covered in grass stains, and there was a leaf stuck to her hair. Dick reached out quickly, plucking it out before she realized and freaked out. 

Luckily, Mary was distracted enough by what could have possibly happened to think about her ruined clothes. She followed the sound of panic like a duckling entering a storm drain. No wonder the woman wasn’t field certified, was all Dick could think as he followed her. 

As they approached, he could see the epicenter of the panic was the other training tent he’d been in when they arrived. He prayed to god, it wasn’t an accident on shoddy equipment like the Parrot twins had just avoided. 

“Young lady, you don’t want to go in there. Believe me.” Jim, the blue-haired performer from earlier, warned. He was rubbing the back of Delia, whose pink locks were now destroyed by sweat and vomit. 

She had been the source of the hurling, and Jim’s voice only made her face more green as she spilled her guts once more. 

Mary raised a finger, reaching into her bag and pulling out a badge. His Bludhaven PD badge that she somehow had snatched from his apartment without him knowing. 

“Switch?” 

Dick looked at her incredulously before reaching into his pocket to pull out her own identification. She clipped it onto her hip proudly. 

“We’re law enforcement. I'm Mariam Hayes, profiler for the GCPD. This is my colleague Officer Richard Grayson.” Dick cringed as the realization that he was a cop sank in on the performers’ faces. Mary continued, not caring that she’d just outed him. “Is anyone able to explain what has occurred?”

The question caused Delia to burst into inconsolable tears. Jim looked between his performance partner to Mary and back to his partner. The man was clearly at a loss and struggling to maintain control. It means he'd be pushing into overdrive, fighting confusion about what had occurred by clinging to shreds of power. 

This would be a fun conversation. 

Jesus, his internal voice was starting to sound more and more like Mary. 

“A crime has occurred, but we’ve already called the police. Wouldn’t it be better to wait for a detective?”

Mary reached into her back pocket to pull out a small leather notebook, slipping into professionalism like a well-worn glove, “I’m a forensic profiler, my scope is similar to a detective. I’ve done federal-level work, I promise you're in good hands. Can you tell me what has occurred?”

Dick could see the words hit the small crowd and then immediately bounce back. Everyone was still in enough shock that Mary’s words weren’t making any sense.

“Yeah, but doesn’t a detective interview not forensics? Can we talk to him, the cop?” 

A finger pointed at Dick, who offered a placating smile. Mary stood like a wind-up doll ready to be unleashed. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye for help. 

“Detective Hayes, would appreciate your help. We wouldn’t be here if-”

“He’s - Oh my god, he’s dead.”

Delia had come back to reality with an earsplitting screech, and it was enough information for Mary to push through the crowd and into the tent. Dick followed right on her heels, ramming into her back as she froze at the entrance. 

“Dear lord,” She breathed, taking a shaky breath before she reached helplessly into her bag, “I- Oh my god.”

In front of them, Andreas Solis swung from the same bar he’d flown on a few hours ago. The teen was strung up, a river of blood pooling on the ground below him. It mixed with the falling glitter from his costume. Lifeless eyes watched them as the body rocked. 

Back and forth. Back and forth. 

Dick felt his throat close, tight and constricting, before Bruce’s commanding voice tore through his mind. 

Compartmentalize. 

He blinked once, turning to check on the woman beside him. They needed to take in everything from the scene while it was still so fresh. Thankfully, Mary seemed to be on the same page, phone already out, taking photos. 

He felt something being shoved into his hands. A bright blue pair of gloves. 

Compartmentalize. Break down later when the mission is done. 

“39, 50, …” Mary had shut down, entering an analytical world of her own. She moved quickly, forcing herself to stand on the ladder of the closest equipment to avoid trailing the blood. 

Dick could only watch as she reached over precariously, gloved fingers dangling over Andreas’ limp form. She stalled for a moment, the world pausing with her, before pulling down the edge of his costume and exposing his abdomen. 

 "39, 50, 18. ” 

On the skin of Andreas’ stomach, carved deep was the number 18, followed by a still flowing jagged line. 

Their killer had finally found the right number. An eighteen-year-old to fit the pattern. 

And he’d done it right under their noses.

Chapter Text

August 29th, 1:00 PM

This is the last time I'm reaching out about this. 

Can we please talk about your work on the last assignment?

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH 

PRESENT DAY - MARY 

JUNE 22nd, 11:00 AM

“What happened to you?” Mendez pointed to a deep green splotch on her blouse as he ducked in through the opening. The tent was becoming crowded, several Bludhaven teams arriving minutes before him. 

The smile vanished from his face the second he saw the scene. Brows knitted together, dark eyes relaying all the emotion Mary knew he couldn’t say out loud. They had another dead teen on their hands. It was personal now, and he’d be kicking it into overdrive. 

“He’s devolving.” The words flew from his mouth as a definitive statement.

Mary squeezed her wrist, holding her hands behind her back. The shutter of a camera bore into her brain as the forensic photographers did their jobs. She’d failed to do hers. Stepping back and letting someone else do it was the right option. 

Dick inclined his head slightly from across the room, where he was talking to his partner about how to secure the scene. The look in his eyes read somewhere between concern and regret. 

Get it together, Hayes.

Mary pulled her lips into a thin line, straightening her spine vertebra by vertebra. “He’s devolving suddenly and very quickly. A very dangerous combination.”

In a crowded circus, an unraveling, formerly methodical killer could have turned this into a spree kill. She should have noticed. She should’ve been paying attention to the important things. Not watching patrons and little girls on shoddy equipment.

Forgive me. 

She’d made a promise to Kristy the day the agents had found her. The body, her body , had been stuck in that basement for three months. Kristy’s strawberry blonde braid had been one of the only identifiers. 

Mary remembered sitting on the edge of her bed, praying. Hands clasped, eyes screwed tightly shut. At ten, she’d still believed in ghosts, that the people they lost could somehow be listening. That Kristy could hear her begging to make amends.

Forgive me for not noticing. Forgive me for not knowing the smell of rot until it was too late.

Forgive me. I will be better. I will earn the right to be absolved of this guilt. Please.

“Whatever pity party you’re having needs to be shut down right now.” Mendez’s voice was a low murmur, not devoid of understanding but still firm. “You’re regressing into some sort of childhood trauma, and I need you here right now.”

Forgive me for letting your murderer walk past. 

“I-” Her mouth was dry, and the words she kept trying to say felt twisted up in her throat like someone had shoved a wad of newspaper down her throat.

Her ribs were constricting over her lungs. It was a weird feeling … losing control was strange. It almost made her want to laugh, but that would make the pressure over her chest worse.

“It’s the sick part of this job, Mary. Sometimes we need another body to drop to catch the killer. He’s getting sloppy.” She felt him reach into her back pocket, and her notebook was pressed firmly into her hands. “So you get sharper.”

The look in her partner’s eyes said one thing. Move.

She made it about a foot from where the body was hanging. The ‘18’ glared back at her. 

“Andreas Solis, 18. He’d been with the circus since he ran away from home at 14. No available next of kin.” Her voice sounded unsure, so unlike herself that if she’d been a bystander, she would have rolled her eyes, “He’d been stabbed five times, cause of death likely the last puncture to his lung. Obvious mutilation, carving of his age, and the laceration beneath it. No witnesses can place anyone inside the tent after 9:00.”

Mendez nodded, circling the pool of blood. Mary watched his face expectantly, waiting for him to say something. To agree with her or add to her observations. When he finally looked up, he just looked … unimpressed. 

“Thank you, detective. I’ll take over the profiling since you apparently don’t want to.” 

Mary froze, clenching her jaw. She’d never been talked to that way, like she was an inconvenience, like she wasn’t helping. Mendez ignored her as she stalked over. 

“Excuse me?”

“If you just want to state facts of the case, I could have gotten them from the pretty cop over there.” He pointed to Dick, who looked torn between helping his partner and coming over. “If you don’t want to do any behavioral analysis, then fine, ask him to drive you back to Gotham. We’ll debrief later.”

Mary forced herself to breathe. She could feel Mendez watching as she called Dick over. The body had stopped swinging, but Andreas’ eyes still stared blankly ahead. Victimology, they needed a victimology. And according to her partner, she wasn’t good enough to get it. 

“Tell him about Andreas.” She demanded, glaring up at the dark-haired man. 

Dick complied, running a hand over his face. He looked as unbothered as a person could be, except for the tapping against his knee. In a voice that reminded her of her usual calm, clinical tone, he broke down everything he knew. 

“He’s young, talented, and beloved. It’s the perfect mix for a low level of vigilance. Solis was unaware of Shelling’s presence; I doubt he knew his killer then. The kid was too naive and kind; he wouldn’t have had any suspicions until he was stabbed in the back. 

Mendez tapped his foot, “That would make him a victim of opportunity; the killer knew he was the right age and saw an easy target.”

Mary scrunched her nose. That just didn’t sound like a dominant partner. Why would the individual who had handpicked Shellling and Dyson’s targets suddenly pick victims by opportunity? 

“I’ve already devolved once by methodology.” She narrowed her eyes at the body, watching the flurry of the forensic team collecting every sample they could, “I didn’t move the body this time. I still got the shock value I wanted, so it was a calculated risk. What I didn’t risk was the victim I chose.”

Squaring her shoulders, she glared down at Mendez, who smiled back at her. His own shoulders had relaxed, and she could finally see that he was wearing a ridiculous tie with green stars all over it. 

“If I unraveled that much, you would have already caught me.”

“Thanks for finally joining us, Mary. So why haven’t we caught him?” Mendez turned on his heel, looking at the room full of officers, “Officer Grayson, how many people do you venture were at the circus this morning?”

“A couple of hundred at least.” Dick offered arms crossed. He kept stealing glances at her, as if he looked away, she’d break. 

“And no one heard a struggle or scream?” Mendez raised an eyebrow, pointing to the pool of blood. A clean puddle, constricted to just below the body. 

Mary’s eyes narrowed further. Everything was too clean. Too set up. “Because I knew that Solis wouldn’t struggle. If I caught him off guard and threatened the only family he knew … he’d stay quiet through the pain. No other performer here would do that, no patron would do that.”

“Solis was purposefully picked because he wouldn’t scream, and he wouldn’t notice anyone coming.” Dick finished off for her, rubbing a hand over his mouth. He looked as tired and uncomfortable as she was. 

Something about the word ‘notice’ clung like cotton to her brain. She hadn’t noticed enough at the circus. Andreas hadn’t noticed his killer. The Dysons hadn’t noticed the break-in into their home. 

No one had noticed Kristy being missing. 

“Because it fits the pattern. And people notice a pattern. It makes the world sharper.” Conrad Shelling’s voice clouded her brain. She clung to the string of thought before it disappeared from her mind.

“I’m trying to make people notice.” A wheel in her brain had just been spun, and it was going out of control. Her words tumbled out fast, the blockage in her throat dissolving in an instant, air finally hitting her lungs. “I’m not placing these bodies to taunt the police or gloat about being uncatchable. I’m testing perception.” 

She reached up, turning Dick’s jaw with her hand. One of her nails was chipped, but she didn’t have the emotional capacity to care. Forcing the men to stare at the number 18, she tilted her head to the side, the final piece falling into place.

“I’m waiting for someone to notice the pattern.”

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH 

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 11:15 AM

At some point, during her word vomit, Mary had reached into Mendez’s pocket, her hand fishing for his keys. Dick watched the exchange, noting the lack of personal space between the two. They were comfortable with each other, more physical than Mary ever was with him. A finger tapped against his knee as Dick averted his gaze.

“Smith insisted he drive. I’ll head back with you two.” Mendez nodded to Dick before moving towards Amy. 

The more distance the man put between them, the louder he spoke. Mendez’s care of social cues seemed to be incredibly low. Dick could only imagine how often he drove Mary to the point of insanity. 

Still, they cared for one another. The man had looked out for Mary after her fall. Which reminded him, technically, Mary still had a concussion. Dick made a mental note to somehow get her to rest, at least for a few hours. She was running on no sleep, a mild concussion, and clearly breaking from the pressure of this case. 

“If I’m following what you’re thinking, Hayes, we need to figure this pattern out and fast. I’m betting money the line’s beneath the numbers mean something.” Mary nodded, where she was still rooted in the same spot. Mendez shook hands with Amy enthusiastically, “Officer Rohrbach, I’m stealing your partner.” 

Amy waved a hand dismissively, “Didn’t realize I had a partner anymore. He hasn’t been working with me for days.”

Dick stuck his tongue out at her, and she rolled her eyes. They’d be fine, he was sure she was enjoying her peace and quiet without him in the car. She’d have him back by tomorrow.

Following the two profilers back to the car, Dick sped up his pace to keep up. They walked fast. Well, Mendez walked, Mary had to jog to keep up. The man was tall, maybe an inch or two taller than Bruce, but lankier. 

“Did you talk to the twins?” Mary barely sounded out of breath as they slowed down the kill. 

The two bounced ideas off each other like a tennis match. Brainstorming with Mary had always been fun, like having an extension of Dick’s brain. This was nothing like that. It was all business between two experts in their fields. 

“Right before I came to see you. Happy kids with a healthy dose of distrust for the adults around them.” Mendez’s tone softened as he recalled his conversation, “They don’t like Holcomb, I can confirm that for you, but their little brains are still trying to decipher why.” 

“Put him as top POI?” 

“Yes, but don’t take the interview as gospel. That distrust could very well be that he’s an outsider, someone not necessarily in the circus fold.”

Dick opened the car door for Mary, who took the back seat, sitting in the middle. She looked more present than before, but still not herself. The way her mouth moved and her eyes darted, it was as if she were wearing a mask of her usual behavior. 

Like him, she’d never forgive herself for that for Andreas’ death. 

Compartmentalize. 

He’d figure out how to bring her back. She wasn’t built to wear a mask. The world needed her sharp to the point of cutting those around her. Beautifully brilliant. He’d bring her back, and then shatter that evening, beating the frustration of failure out of himself in his own mask.

“He seemed particularly interested in the girls’ birthdays. Could their age be part of the pattern?” Dick started the car, pulling off the grassy field onto the road. Glancing back in the rear view, he could see Mary’s face drop slightly. His habits didn’t look good on her. “I’ll ask for more eyes just so they’re safe.”

“Good catch, you ever consider doing the detective exam?” Mendez sounded genuinely impressed as he turned up the music. Mary cursed, reaching over the middle to turn it back down. 

Dick laughed, the practiced sound harsh against his ears, “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Smart man.” Mendez hissed as the brakes slammed, stopping just before the person jumped in the road, “Son of a-”

Parker Holcomb approached the vehicle, motioning for them to roll down the window. Dick unwillingly did.

“That was sure something up there. Just wanted to make sure ya’ll are alright. All aces, Haysey?” 

The little man didn’t tear his gaze away from Mary in the backseat. It was intense enough to make Dick shift in his seat. 

Mendez glanced back over to Mary with a wicked smile, “ Haysey, you good?” She nodded from where she’d already become engrossed in a file from her bag, “She’s good. Can you move out of the road, bud?”

“We’re still on for tomorrow?”

Dick opened his mouth, ready to tell him they’d never be on. Who did this guy think he was? Mendez beat him to the punch. 

“You do realize she’s working an active case for a murder that happened at your place of work?”

Holcomb opened his mouth, running a hand through his hair, “Yes?”

“So then-”

“We’re on Parker. There’s a little Vietnamese food place across from GCPD headquarters. I’ll talk to you later.” Mary set down the file, a smile barely tugging at her lips. The man took it in full force, as if a star had just been plucked from the sky for him. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.” 

Holcomb wanted to say more, but Dick had already accelerated the car, leaving him in a cloud of dusty gravel. Mendez leaned over the seat, about to make fun of Mary more, when she hit him with the file. The man faked an injury, leaning back in his seat. 

“Not the date I expected you to be on.”

“It’s for the case. I don’t want to go on a date period.” Mary scoffed from the back, “But it’s a good way to get him to talk.”

The car quieted. Dick stared ahead on the road, preparing to pull onto a real street. About halfway to the station, Mendez, barely looking up from his phone, reached a hand into the backseat, catching a falling file. 

Mary’s head lulled to one side, and he gave Dick a tight-lipped smile before unbuckling and climbing to the backseat. The blonde groaned in protest, and the man shushed her, adjusting her position. The action was brotherly, bordering on fatherly, reminding him of long patrols when he’d been younger. 

He used to wrap himself up in Bruce’s cape, head resting on his father’s shoulder after particularly hard nights. 

“Once she’s out, she’s out for at least a couple of hours. I’ve tried to get her to see someone for it, but …” Mendez shrugged, voice barely a whisper. Mary didn’t stir. “I’m assuming she was with you. When’s the last time she slept?”

Dick glanced again through the rear-view mirror. Mary didn’t look any calmer, but she was getting some rest, and that’s all that mattered. He kept his voice low, taking a slower turn. “I told her she could sleep anywhere in my apartment. She was up the entire night until your call.” 

Mendez clicked his tongue, putting the file back into Mary’s bag and brushing the hair off her face. The woman barely stirred. 

“Bad, bad Hayes.” Dick frowned at the statement, about to turn into the parking lot when Mendez shook his head, “Do you mind dropping us back off in Gotham. We’ll dump her on her bed, and I’ll look things over with Lawrence.

Dick frowned before clearing his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He turned the direction of the fastest route between the two cities. “You have a key to her apartment?”

“My wife forced her to make us both copies.” Dick couldn’t help but relax at the word ‘wife’. There was a hum from the backseat before Mendez climbed back to the front. His large frame made the action clumsy. “Val worries for her.”

The tone of his voice pointed to the idea that his wife wasn’t the only one who worried.

“Because she’ll never ask for help?” Dick bit his tongue as a car cut them off, forcing it to jolt suddenly. There was no noise from the back. 

The two men exchanged a look, and Mendez grinned like he knew something Dick didn’t. 

“Because she’ll give more help than she’ll ever ask for.” 

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM UNIVERSITY

FRESHMAN YEAR - MARY

AUGUST 29th, 12:00 PM

Alfred had asked him that morning, over a towering stack of syrup-drenched pancakes, how he felt college was going. Dick, in between staking his claim over the last piece of bacon, had chirped, “Great!”. Jason, refusing to relent, caused a bottle of syrup to tip over, leaving a sticky trail on the table.

Bruce had sighed, like a weight had been taken off his chest, before taking a piece of bacon off his plate and placing it onto Dick’s, and then the conversation had been over.

And Dick hadn’t been lying.

Three weeks into the semester, and he was doing fine considering the circumstances. A mission had pulled him away for a period of time, but his grades were holding steady enough that he could bounce back from the first exams.

He couldn’t care less about the lab, considering that it was one credit hour, and it seemed like his partner was holding the boat pretty steady. Mary really only sent him messages to look over her portion of the assignments, getting them done at least a week early. He’d done good in picking his partner.

“Dude, this place’s food is insane,” Wally said, guzzling down a third shake.

The speedster had already drunk his own, ordered another, and was now finishing off Donna’s. The dark-haired beauty looked at Wally like he was a science experiment, mouth open, a fry frozen in the air where she held it.

“Yeah, it’s a Gotham U staple.”

After the work they’d just endured on a private island in Micronesia, Dick was more than happy to show his friends around his new stomping grounds. He had plans for the evening that involved no sleeping and a lot of party hopping. They might as well make the most of their night off.

Across the booth from him and Donna, Roy pushed Wally’s plates away, taking a slow sip of his Coke, “Are the girls a Gotham U staple too?”

The redhead waved, and several sorority sisters, there to fuel up on greasy diner food, waved back. Dick offered a quick grin to the freckled ginger, and she giggled, turning to whisper to her friends. Donna rolled her eyes as Wally reached over the table to grab her plate of onion rings.

Roy raised a brow, and Dick followed his gaze. A blonde had just left her table of friends, making a beeline towards them. She walked quickly, purposefully, like a woman on a mission.

Dick opened his mouth to warn Roy that the girl likely was here for different reasons as the man gave a sly hello. The only thing he got in return was a sharp “Excuse me” as a stack of papers several inches thick was dropped right on top of Dick’s empty plate.

“I don’t know who you take me for, but this is not going to keep happening.” Mary punctuated her point by pointing at the top research paper, glaring down at him with flared nostrils.

Donna stiffened, nudging in a manner that asked if he needed help. Dick shook his head before offering Mary a bright smile.

“Sorry, Mary. Did I do something?”

“To put it plainly, it’s the fact that you do things half-assed. My benefit of the doubt only goes so far, and you’ve dried it up.”

In lab, her tone was always sharp, carefully thought over, and professional. Now her words tumbled out, quick and stinging. Each sentence was followed by fluttering hands of exasperation. It made the ink stains on her finger pads more visible.

Dick opened his mouth only to be cut off again.

“You can be busy and not do the work. Or pretend to be dumb, and I’d gladly do it all. I actually prefer it. What you ain’t gonna is go head to head with me in the lab and then be too busy to earn me my A. You slipped up, “ Mary leaned in close enough that he could smell her mint gum, “‘Cause I know you’re a smart boy, so now I’m holdin’ you to it.”

Wally paused mid-chew, “Dude, you got an assignment due?”

Dick took a deep breath, “Lab presentation next week. Look, I’m sorry I got you a B- on the first one, Mary. I’ll send you my stuff early next time.”

He gave her the same look he’d just given the other girl. Mary looked back at him like he was gum on the bottom of her shoe, “And you’re planning on doing that while also balancing your other classes. Ab-Psychs’ first exam was tricky for me, and I attended all the lectures. You’re good, but you’re not osmotic.”

He attempted to respond, voice hoarse. Reaching over to take a sip of Roy’s drink, he cleared it before saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

Mary narrowed her eyes back at him, sliding into the booth, the action pushing Roy and Wally further into it, “Oh no, we’re fixing this right now.”

Dick side-eyed Donna, who had gone from concern for him to enjoyment. At some point during the conversation, she’d pulled the plate back from Wally and was munching like she was at a movie. Turning pleading eyes to Roy was his only other option. His friend caught the memo.

“Mary, is it? I’m Roy, how ya doing? We actually got plans.” He gave her a wink, looking her up and down slowly, “But you are more than welcome to join us.”

Mary raised an eyebrow, her voice sickly sweet, “Really? Ace’s that’s just the thing I’ve been waiting to hear.” Like a cobra finally zeroing in on her prey, she turned back to Dick, “So you’ve got nothing truly important planned for tonight? Great, pull out your schedule, we’re getting your life in order.”

“Well, now no. I just told you Dickies got plans.”

“Not anymore, and she agrees with me.” Mary pointed to Donna, who grinned, reaching across the table to shake her hand. “I’ve gotta assume she’s the ringleader.”

“Donna Troy. It’s truly a pleasure. You are more than welcome to kidnap him. I’ll help you if need be.”

“Donna!”

“She clearly has a good cause! You can’t blame the girl for wanting an A.” As Mary got out of the booth, the Amazonian pointed harshly for her two redheads to get out.

They begrudgingly listened.

“Dick, listen to her. We’ll send you pictures from tonight and meet up later.” Turning back to Mary, she gave her an appreciative smile, “Thank you. He’ll never ask for help.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I love being bossy.”

“Honestly, I can’t blame you. Love the rush of a good power trip.”

“See, you get me.” Mary nodded enthusiastically, the three men forgotten around them, “I love your bracelets.”

“Thank you! Your jeans are great, where’d you get them?”

“Thrifted, right off-”

“Are you two bonding right after ruining my night out?” Dick stared at the two women slack jawed.

He honestly couldn’t believe it. The plot had officially been lost, and he didn’t know who to blame. Mary mostly. Maybe Wally for putting them in the diner in the first place by saying he was hungry.

The next hour was not spent in a sticky basement, sipping on a drink while flirting with some random chick. It was spent with Mary, going over every aspect of his civilian life, trying to figure out how he could get everything done when he often left the country for “undisclosed reasons”.

He’d lied and said it was Wayne’s family stuff. She’d raised a brow but hadn’t questioned it further. She could dig as much as she liked, his nightlife was under lock and key, and even she wouldn’t be able to figure it out.

“So you never know when you’re going to leave? That’s fine.”

“That’s not fine. I’m just lucky none of these lectures have an attendance policy.”

Mary leaned her head into her palm, “Lab does. But I cover for you.”

Dick felt his eyes widen. He’d always been under the assumption that he was being docked points each day he missed the lab. The last thing he’d think was that Mary was looking out for him.

“Really? I mean, thanks, but how?”

“Why do you think I do all this work ahead of time? The first time, I assumed you must’ve emailed some excuse. So I marched up and forced the TA to check our work. Said your absences are planned, and it’s his fault for not checking the emails

“Jackson did not let you get away with that.” Dick relaxed in his seat, offering a polite ‘thank you’ as the waitress cleared the plates.

Mary played with her pencil, “I might’ve mentioned his alleged relationship with one of the neurology TAs. The very engaged neurology TA. They should’ve been more secretive, I mean, they’re practically fawning over each other at any given moment.”

Her words felt like another smack to reality; she’d been covering and blackmailing for him. Well, not him, more their shared grade. But she’d been doing all that on top of her classwork and clubs she’d joined. Plus the internship she’d managed to snag before classes started, and she was already hounding Dr. Bircham to let her freshman undergrad ass into his lab.

The only class she didn’t have a perfect score in was their lab. Meanwhile, he’d been barely scraping B’s and claiming he was too busy.

Maybe he didn’t have an excuse anymore.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“You clearly have no control when you miss classes, why wouldn’t I. If you can agree on one day of the week, we can work on our shared presentations together, and I’ll even help you with lectures. What do you prefer, notes or that I secretly record them? I’m very good at it.”

He stared at her blankly.

“Both?”

“No-”

“I’ll give you both, and if it’s not enough, we’ll circle back. One day a week, just one. Work with me for a couple of hours.” Her voice was sincere as she handed him the calendar she had finally finished for him. It was neat and highlighted, his important set days boxed in. “You’re a decent guy, I’d hate to see you struggle.

“I’d assume you’d enjoy it. Easier to climb to the top without competition.” He leaned onto his elbows, eyebrows drawn together.

Mary was competitive. Other students couldn’t get their hands raised fast enough in lectures. She cared about having top marks. And there was already some whispered complaining about her pushing for the lab spot so early.

Caring about Dick’s performance didn’t seem like her. He’d always been naturally intelligent and scored decently without studying. If he did study, he could probably match her in the grades department. She was doing herself a disservice.

“It wouldn’t be fun without the competition, would it?” She grinned, standing with a stretch.

Dick followed her out of the booth. It didn’t take being an expert at reading her behavior to realize they’d come to an understanding. It wasn’t friendship yet, but they’d be sticking around one another at least for the rest of the semester.

“So do you want to meet here at Gladstones on Friday again?”

Mary held the door open for him, stepping out into the evening, “We don’t have to take up your weekend. What about your friends?”

“They’re just visiting-”

Her eyes widened in realization and she whirled around, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I’m such a jerk-”

He held a hand up, cutting off her apology, “It’s fine, I’ll catch up with them now and still have time to regret tomorrow. I’m not mad at you … anymore. Friday is good. You need to walk back to your dorm?”

Mary shook her head, the action causing her hair to fall out of its clip. She sighed, reaching up to fix it, “No. I used to walk farther to get eggs from neighbors. Go have fun.”

“I will after I walk you back. This isn’t Nowhere land, you don’t just wander around alone in Gotham.” He ignored her sharp look and pushed her shoulder slightly to get her to walk, “You already ruined my night once, come on, let’s keep it moving.”

Mary would get home to her dorm safely that evening, leaving just enough time for Dick to catch his fellow Titans at their final frat house of the night. It would be the first and last time he went to that particular house, the rest of his incredibly short college career taken up by missions and late nights in Gladstone’s with a cup of coffee and a textbook with the words bleeding together.

Somehow, it would end up being worth it when each Monday rolled around and Mary stalked up to their shared table, slamming down a piece of paper.

A bright red A was always written at the top, and a self-satisfied smile plastered on her face.

Chapter Text

June 22nd 5:45 PM

Hey M, can I stop by and pick something up?

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM UNIVERSITY

SOPHOMORE YEAR - MARY

AUGUST 11th, 10:00 PM

“What is that?” Mary leaned out her window, amusement written on all her features. She stepped over, onto the fire escape.

“You like?” Dick spun around slowly, showing off the new costume.

He ended with a showman smile as if expecting a clap. Mary shook her head as she hopped to sit on the railing separating her apartment from the roof beside it. It was a quiet enough night, allowing their voices to carry clearly, bouncing off the narrow alley. 

“It looks stupid,” Jason replied behind him, arms crossed, lips tucked into a scowl. 

Almost simultaneously, Mary said very slowly, “It’s awfully … vintage.”

The blue was fine. But the yellow accents and V-neck … she bit her lip, frowning. He’d clearly designed it on his own, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. 

Dick elbowed his brother, “What do you know, you just ruined the Robin costume.”

“I need pants! I get cold, and the shorts were dumb in any season!”

Mary raised two fingers to the dark figure three rooftops over. There was no response back, there never was, but he was always there, watching from a distance. Dick didn’t want to speak to the Bat; he was still staking a claim on his independence, but Mary didn’t mind his presence. 

Pulling her robe tighter over her pajamas, she pointed at the costume again, “So what’s the new hero identity? We going disco themed or …”

Jason snickered, and Dick elbowed him again.

The Robin tipped closer to the edge, arms windmilling before he caught his balance, “Hey! She said it.”

Dick didn’t justify his brother with a response. Instead, he straightened himself up proudly, lowering his voice dramatically, “It’s Nightwing.”

Mary raised her hands slowly as if to clap, and he stuck his tongue out like a child. She shook her head, fighting the grin on her face. His excitement was infectious, like a cold in a kindergarten. 

“Well, congratulations on officially becoming the only Robin.” Mary inclined her head to Jason, who offered a salute, “And what reason does Nightwing, protector of Bludhaven, have to be gracing our presence tonight?”

“Oh, I love hearing it out of your mouth. Say it again.” Dick leaned forward over the gap between the buildings, and she pushed him back.

“You’re such a freak”, Mary rolled her eyes, stepping back into her apartment, “Whatever reason you’re here has to be important. Jay make sure he stays out of trouble”.

“Aye, aye, captain. You heard her freak, let’s go.”

Mary leaned forward again as the boy pushed his brother off the roof. Narrowing her eyes, she made sure she could see a figure grappling off into the distance. She raised both hands to shut the window, nodding to Jason. 

“Stay safe.” 

“Ack M, that’s never fun,” Jason replied before he too disappeared into the night.

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 12:00 PM

In the 45 minutes Dick had been virtually alone with Mendez, he had learned one key fact. 

The man talked a lot, as if any idea that stayed in his head would explode and lead to his demise. No topic was off limits; Daniel Mendez was the dictionary definition of open book. 

Surprisingly, the man was Gotham-born and raised, from Bowery. Which, in hindsight, made his strange clothing make more sense. He’d moved back a year ago, after almost a decade at Quantico, due to Gotham’s uptick in child trafficking. The details got muddy the more he spoke, but that was the short story of the long-winded answer he gave Dick. 

Most importantly, Mendez wasn’t afraid to spill everything he knew about Mary. Sadly, Dick already knew she was a bossy, workaholic with insomnia. He did, however, pocket the information that she allegedly never went out anymore. 

Quiet finally entered the car after the detective was dropped off at GCPD headquarters. Dick had insisted to Mendez that he could easily get Mary back to her apartment on his own. Plus, one stop was more economical. The man had just waggled furry eyebrows at him and repeated ‘economical’ before dashing into the building. 

Now, Dick stood with the passenger door open, staring down at an alarmingly knocked-out Mariam Hayes. Waking her up came with the risk of her running around for 48 hours again. On the other hand, she’d yell at him if she found out he’d carried her up. 

He bit his lip, watching her eyelids flutter slightly. Her hair was a mess, her shirt stained, and he could see Mendez had creased her file the way he’d shoved it back into her bag. 

She was already going to wake up pissed, so carrying her up it was. He ducked his body into the car, pulling her close. 

“Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.” He shushed, shifting her so he could snag her emotional support tote bag with the other hand.

Throwing her over his shoulder like a sack would have been easier, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to do it. It just seemed wrong. 

And he didn’t want to. 

It didn’t matter either way; he didn’t train that hard to get winded carrying a person barely clocking 5’2” up some stairs. Making it to her door, neatly marked, ‘Hayes’, he reached for the key Mendez had given him. 

“Nice place.” He whispered out of habit even if there was no one to answer back. 

Her apartment was nice. A type A dream that looked like her soul was embedded into every throw blanket and fridge magnet. But Mary’s apartments had always been that way, clean and organized to the point of being able to eat off her floors.

A small wooden shoe rack stood by the door, holding a pair of well-worn burgundy loafers. Dick slipped off his shoes, one hand cradling her head, fingers slipping into soft hair. His mouth twitched as he hung up the keys on the holder above, right next to Mary’s spare. 

She still had the batarang key chain he’d gotten her as a joke for her 19th. 

The same one she’d thrown at him the last time he’d been in her apartment. A different building four years ago, her eyes like poison as he’d screamed at her. And Mary had been too calm, too logical for someone whose dagger was still lodged in his back. He couldn’t remember much beyond that; he’d been so angry, so betrayed … so exposed. 

A hand gripped his shirt as his hold tightened, like either of them would disappear. Kicking open her bedroom door, he lay her gently over the sheets. Mary immediately curled into herself, face shoved into the pillow. 

“You’ll kill me if I don’t take off your shoes.” 

“Mhmm”, came the muffled reply. 

His mouth twitched again. She didn’t even know what she was replying to. Slipping off the muddy, brown heels, Dick straightened, holding them in one hand. With the other, he reached over, running his knuckle over freckled cheekbones. 

She’d always looked freer when they weren’t covered. Pretty, no matter what, but more like the girl he used to know without the heavy foundation. 

With one more look back, Dick shut the door quietly. 

She needed her rest. 

And Mary got it. Six whole hours of sleep. 

Until the window opened. 

“Hey M, could I borrow your-”

Dick threw the file he’d taken from her bag, standing immediately. 

He froze. The figure halfway in the room stopped, foot hanging off the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 6:00 PM

Mary woke in her own bed. Which was weird because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d fallen asleep in a bed. 

She usually passed out on her couch on particularly hard days. 

Blood mixing with glitter. 

Eighteen.

Failure. 

Sitting up quickly, she narrowed her eyes. Someone had put her in bed … and taken her shoes?

“Dick”, she rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. 

Kicking her feet over the side of the bed, she stood listening to the sound of hushed arguing. She had a good idea of the cause of the noise, and it was going to be a headache to deal with. 

“This is my crash spot. Get out .”

“Crash spot?” Dick’s arms whirled, and he looked at the young man in disbelief. “What does that even mean?”

Mary leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. Jason was now taller than his older brother, and it narrowed the playing fields of their arguments. 

“It’s the spot where I crash. You know, trusted adult and all.” Jason crossed his arms, sucking air through his teeth, “Not a lot of open couches after you die.”

“Jason …”

“Low blow. You’re starting to sound like me.” Mary raised her voice from the doorway, raising an eyebrow. Jason frowned, and she crossed the room, reaching up to ruffle his hair, “What do you need, Jay?”

She could feel Dick focusing in on her hand before sitting on the couch. He looked defeated. 

“You still got that med kit? I got a burned kid down in Crime Alley, but visiting urgent care is out of the question.”

“Mhmm,” Mary replied, opening her linen closet, climbing up the shelves. She could feel the stare behind her, hot and burning. No shot Dick wasn’t mad at her. “You just want the burn cream or …”

“Vaseline?” Came the hopeful response. 

Hopping down, she tossed the two tubes and a roll of gauze. The vigilante caught it easily, looking down at Dick awkwardly. The tension practically buzzed in the air. 

“Thanks.” Jason pulled on the mask, backing up towards the window, “I’m just going to head .. out”

“Thank you, Mary . Goodbye, Dick. ” Mary moved to close the window after him, “I’ll see you later, brother .”

“I’m not repeating all that,” Jason insisted from the fire escape. Hidden from his brother’s view, he pointed a thumb back at the living room as if to say, ‘What’s going on?’.

Mary shrugged, unsure of what to say to that. She didn’t even know what was going on at this point. 

“Think it at least,” She winked, shutting the window with finality, “Please.”

If he knew how much heartbreak his family had gone through, he’d do more than just think it. But Bruce Wayne and his boys were so emotionally constipated that she doubted Jason would ever know the truth. 

“He’s - Oh my god, he’s dead.”

The pink-haired performer’s words rang in her head. A never-ending cycle of loss. Soul’s left this earth every single day; it just didn’t hurt enough until it was one of your own. 

She knew that well enough. The deaths still haunted her. 

21 was supposed to be fun, an entrance into the real world. Mary wasn’t supposed to break in her first big girl apartment by sinking to her knees, holding a shattered man. Dick wasn’t supposed to cling to her, screaming because when he left, his fifteen-year-old brother was alive, and when he came back, he wasn’t. 

It wasn’t fair. Her tears had soaked his hair, and his drenched her jeans. And it wasn’t fair, and Jason knew that, but he didn’t realize just how much it affected others. 

Mary took a deep breath, fingers still pressed against the windowsill. She didn’t want to turn around. The fight in her was at an all-time low, and one harsh look would likely send her into an early death. 

“Mary?” Dick was still behind her, and the longer she waited, the more he’d simmer. “How long has he been doing that?” 

Always so gentle and kind until she crossed the damn line. Until she got too close to the people he loved and hurt him again by being too brash, too harsh, too herself. Because no matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t perfect. 

Not for him and certainly not for herself. 

But maybe if she tore herself down from the pedestal, the loss of him again wouldn’t hurt so much. Mary filled her lungs, searching once more for the right words that might protect her this time. 

GOTHAM CITY 

FIVE YEARS AGO - MARY

"THE DAY IT BURNED DOWN"

The knocking on her door was pounding, insistent. Tying off her braid, Mary sniffed, turning over the internship application on her counter. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming”, padding over with socked feet, she opened the door before it got busted open, “Aces, Dick, what’s the -”

“You told him?” Chest heaving, eyes red, the words came out like three darts straight towards her.

Dick looked like a mess. For the past year, he’d had every right to be. Sunken eyes, grown-out hair, who was she to point out anything about it? What she wouldn’t stay silent on was his mind; she just couldn’t, not with the things she saw.

“Dick, he needed to know. It’s not healthy.” Sitting down on the edge of her couch, she watched him stalk into the room. Occasionally, his eyes darted to a spot just to the right of him. 

It was still happening. 

“Hallucinations with grief aren’t uncommon. But you need to admit they’re happening, you need help .”

“And you’re the fucking help? Thanks, Mariam, telling Bruce I’m crazy is such good help.” 

Dick yelled, his voice reverberating in the small space. And then he paused, as if waiting for the words to hit her. She narrowed her eyes. He wanted them to hurt … well, two could play at that game. 

“Is it my fault he doesn’t want you out in the field when you’re actively seeing ‘ghosts’? I’m so sorry I informed your father, who loves and cares for you.” Her keys were still on the table, and she rolled her eyes, picking them up to put them in the right spot. 

“Next time, I’ll just call the psych ward or maybe even Arkham. Tell them Nightwing’s seeing things and needs to be off the streets.” She tossed the sentence over her shoulder, making her way to the key dish. 

Unlike him, she didn’t need to watch to know her words would meet their mark. Turning around, she raised an eyebrow, keeping her face as placid as she could. 

“You are such a-”

“Such a what?”

“Such a fucking manipulator.” She closed her eyes against the scream. For some reason, it felt like her chest closed with it, “Get that through your self-righteous head. You aren’t helping!”

Opening her eyes, gray met blue. One set of devoid of emotion, the other overflowing. She was done, Dick wasn’t. 

“Bruce is already dealing with enough. Have you gone outside lately, seen the things he’s doing? You’re going to set him off the damn edge, and that’s your fault.”

“Have you been outside? Because last I heard, you’ve been cooped up in Bludhaven. Avoiding your family when they need you. Again.” She kept her voice low, refusing to tear her eyes away. 

Dick grit his teeth, his tone harsher and louder than she allowed hers to ever be. 

“Like I wasn’t there for Jason, right? You think you’re so smart, but you’re so predictable. Always going for the low blow.” He leaned forward, breath hot against her face. “You’ve ruined my life. Keep my brother’s name out of your mouth before you ruin his legacy too.”

Something prickled behind her eyes. Biting her tongue, Mary stood. She needed to get him out of here. He needed to leave before -

“Sure, the good soldier , right? Is he here right now?” She leaned to the side, slightly to the right, where Dick’s eyes kept moving, “Care to tell him hi for me? Or should I tell Batman about that, too?”

A moment of silence. The world stopped spinning, gravity the only thing keeping them tethered to their spots and not at each other’s throats. 

And then it all came crashing back.

His screaming. Her raising her voice back, tossing her keys at him as he made his way to the door. 

“Take the stupid keychain back! Get out of my house!”

Opening the door roughly, he glared at her one last time like she was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“Stay out of my life.”

She raised her chin. Crying in front of him was not an option. 

“I’ll do you one better. I’m going to forget all about you.”

The door slammed, and she was alone again. Her heart told her she’d be alone for a long while after this. Forehead pressed against the wall, she pushed the tears back, breathing in sets of three. When the feeling passed, she stood. 

Straightened her spine. 

And finished her application. 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 6:15 PM

The right words were the truth, and that hurt her more than anything ever had before. 

“When my neighbor died, they only found her body because I finally remembered Dr. Goode walking towards her house.” The words landed awkwardly, raw and out of place, “I gave my statement, they did the raid, and I testified at ten years old. Every night for a year, I asked her to forgive me for prolonging her suffering. Kristy never answered.” 

Pinching the bridge of her nose didn’t help against the dull ache in her head. Mary turned, eyes shut, leaning her head against the window pane. There was movement as Dick stood, likely to put even more space between them. He didn’t say anything.

“I need you to understand. My entire life has been a poor imitation of who Kristy Atilla could have been. Even at thirteen, she was perfect. Flawless hair, never wrong, never too emotional.” She waved a hand around before pressing it to her forehead. So unlike the person she was trying to be. “The funny thing is … when you asked me that day in the study room, who Mariam Hayes was? I don’t think she’d even been alive … until then.”

Her hands felt like they had a mind of their own; they just wouldn’t keep still. The nervous energy didn’t extend to her feet. Those remained rooted to the ground, forcing the buzzing to stay in her chest, building until she just might cry. 

She hadn’t cried since Jason died. 

“What changed?”

The voice sounded so far away. She didn’t want to latch onto it, afraid to hear what tone Dick was speaking in. 

“You. You’re good for the sake of being good, but you’re also so righteously angry. So maybe complete perfection was unachievable, but I could be perfect for you, and the city, and your family.” She finally forced her eyes open to find Dick a foot from her. Looking off to the side was the only way to avoid his gaze, pathetic as it was, “Because if I loved you, then by extension, I loved every part of you. Because you’re my best friend, even if I wasn’t yours.” 

Peeking, the disappointment in Dicks eye’s eyes was evident. She wasn’t going to win this time, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to. 

“Why are you telling me this?” A hand reached forward, and she tucked into herself. There was nowhere to go behind her. 

“Because you need to know two things. That I stopped looking for forgiveness at ten and replaced it with this.” She waved a hand over herself, “And that I can’t give up on you or your family, Dick. You’ve stitched yourself into my entire life. I’ll admit it, your brothers sleep on my couch. I go to Bruce for help. Tim came to me before he was even fucking Robin. Hate me, hate me and push me out of your life, and I will, I promise, but I can’t take you out of mine.” 

And then they fell. Tears, wet and embarrassing, and so imperfect. She reached up to wipe her face, but a calloused hand beat her to it. 

“I’m so sorry. Forgive me”

She wasn’t sure who she was saying it to anymore. Dick? Kristy? Andreas, the Dysons, the damn killer at this point. She repeated the words over and over, hands clutched to her chest just like the little girl in Nowelsland once had. 

A pair of arms wrapped around her, like a lock to a key, rusty from use. Dick kept them upright, unlike the last time she’d cried. 

“Oh, Mare,” his voice rumbled against her chest, warm and familiar, “I forgave you a long time ago. Just been waiting for you on the other side of the bridge.”

Chapter Text

June 22nd, 6:00 PM

Answer your phone. 

Now. 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 7:00 PM

“If I loved you, then by extension, I loved every part of you.”

Dick tightened his grip, the scent of vanilla overwhelming every sense he had. Mary had stopped shaking, body stilling into deep breaths. 

She loved him. Past tense. 

“Because you’re my best friend, even if I wasn’t yours.”

No, that wasn’t right. Mary wouldn’t give him the time of day if there was no love. She just wasn’t in love with him. 

And he wasn’t in love with her. What did that word even mean? It was far too ambiguous. He’d been in this position countless times before. Donna was his friend, his twin flame, someone he loved. Dick had always held her just as tightly, refusing to let go until his care melted into her bones. 

But Donna didn’t have one finger on his pulse, controlling the flow of his blood, the course of his life. He didn’t look up at the cloudy sky and down at the rocks just for a glimpse of her eyes in his mind. And he most certainly didn’t say Ace’s just to feel a word that had previously been on her lips. 

Because Donna didn’t say ‘aces’. No one said ‘aces’ except Mary. 

“Shit.” 

Somewhere along the lines, he’d lifted her off the ground, her feet dangling slightly off the hardwood. And somewhere along the line’s he’d slipped his heart into her hands. Feet gently hit the ground, and her body pulled back to reveal misty eyes. 

“Agreed,” Dick wasn’t sure how one word from her mouth could affect him that much. Make him want to stay there forever. Mary sniffed, wiping at her nose with a weak smile, “You need a shower just as much as me.”

She took a step back, shaking her arms, slowly coming back to life. A fire sparked in her eyes, and her spine straightened. He felt like an idiot, staring at her like some sort of attraction. 

“I’ve got some old pjs from my dad visiting that ought to fit you, if you want to go first. If you stay, we can talk about the case, and I’ll throw in a free dinner?”

Mary lifted her brows hopefully. Dick paused for a moment, as if he’d ever say no. 

“What’s for dinner?”

“Whatever I feel like cooking”, was her reply, opening back up the linen closet to hand him a fluffed towel, “Use whatever you’d like in the shower, just not the shampoo in the purple bottle.” Marching her way into her bedroom, he watched as she rummaged through a drawer, finding him some clothes. “There are some unopened toothbrushes in the bottom left drawer. Leave your clothes by the door, I’ll wash ‘em right away in case dad’s aren’t comfortable.”

“Mary,” he warned, leaning against the bathroom door, “it’s just me.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing past him to put a few tubes of makeup back where they belonged, “And I’m just me, and I wasn’t raised to be a bad host.” 

Looking around, she deemed the bathroom good enough for use, ushering him in, “Holler if you need me.” 

I need you. I love you. Don’t go. 

The words died on his tongue as the door shut, separating them. 

He didn’t take long, not wanting to overstep her generosity. Entering her living room, he paused, pushing the towel against wet hair. Squinting, he could make out the titles of the old psychology textbooks on her bookshelf. They held the notes they scribbled in the margins during boring lectures. 

“An air fryer?” Dick asked as he entered the kitchen, soft music playing from a CD. player. Fleetwood Mac, from the recording she’d stolen from his apartment. 

“Greatest invention known to man”, Mary hummed from where she leaned against the kitchen counter, finishing whatever she was typing on her laptop. She’d changed into a pair of matching pajamas, hair slicked down with something and tied into a low bun. “Garlic bread and vodka pasta minus the vodka because I didn’t have any.”

“So just red sauce?” He chuckled, jumping up onto the counter next to her. She looked up at him through her lashes before turning back to whatever work she was doing. “What’s in your hair?”

“Hair mask. I’ve got about half an hour until I need to wash it out. I was going to put a face one on, too, but I didn’t want to scare you.” 

The clicking of her fingers against the keyboard stopped as she grabbed the pair of tongs next to the stove. The whole space smelled like garlic and butter and a hint of burnt tomato paste. It fought against the candle in the next room over, but it was still pleasant. His apartment never smelled like anything, really, besides the occasional metallic scent of blood and antiseptic. 

“I think you look nice.” Dick offered lamely, and she smiled, clacking the tongs in his face. A bowl of pasta was deposited in his lap, and a piece of bread dropped on top. 

“Well, I appreciate that you can still compliment me during my post-breakdown aggressive self-care.” Mary paused for a moment, a faraway look in her eyes, before she dropped her head to the counter, burying her face in her arms. “Oh my god, this is so mortifying. I think the shame just hit me all at once.”

Setting down the food, he nudged her with a foot, “Hey, you’re human. That’s not embarrassing.”

“I’m going to throw up”, came the muffled response. “I think I’m going to go down to the sewers and let Killer Croc eat me.”

Nudging her once more, he twirled up a heaping forkful of noodles. When she finally looked up, there was a slight pout on her lips. Dick honestly wasn’t sure what came over him as he pushed the food against them. To his credit, Mary accepted it, chewing slowly. 

“Sometimes I forget that I’m actually a good cook.” Self-pity dissipating into the air, she stood pointing a finger sternly in his direction before serving herself a heaping bowlful, “Eat that all.”

Two bowls in, he was still there despite the call of patrol in his head, listening to her ramble on about her theories. Stretching, he picked up the dirty dishes, moving them to the sink. Mary tsked, rushing in behind him. 

“You cooked. I’ll clean up, it’s only fair.” Doing the only thing he knew would stop her from fighting him, he held the soapy sponge over her head, primed to squeeze it. Mary’s eyes widened, and she sputtered in disbelief, taking a large step back. 

“Richard, that’s playing dirty.”

“Your only child is showing Mariam. I’ve played dirty for fewer reasons.” Looking up, he noted something glaringly amiss on her window, “Where are your lilacs?”

“You’re going to put the forks back in the wrong spot and drive me crazy.” Mary sighed, grabbing a drying rag, “And I’ve been busy, haven’t had time to get any.”

Busy was the understatement of the century. They were in a stalemate, everything hinging on the information she could get out of Holcomb. And by the way, she was avoiding sitting still; her patience was running thin. 

“I remember once upon a time you said you’d never buy them for yourself.” Handing her a bowl, he side-eyed her, gauging her reaction, as the distinctive sound of a guitar began to play. 

Mary’s eyes lit up, crinkling in the corners as she reached to turn up the music. Tapping one foot, she shrugged lightly, “One too many failed relationships, and I decided to give up on that dream. I’m more reliable.”

“Clearly not”, he replied, humming to the music. Mary elbowed him, a silent reminder that he did, in fact, like the band, even if he always said they were overrated. “Maybe your date tomorrow will get you some.”

Mary shrugged, bopping her head as if she couldn’t care less about the fact that she’d agreed to go out with a potential serial killer. Closing her eyes, she blindly grabbed his soapy hand, moving it dramatically to the beat. 

“And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again. I can still hear you saying you will never break the chain.” 

Their voices were so horribly off-key and loud, it verged on receiving a noise complaint. But neither of them had ever claimed to have any singing prowess. Setting the second bowl back into the sink, he looked down at their interlinked hands and then back up at the way her hair fell out of the elastic in a mess. 

And in that moment, he vowed, he’d buy this girl fresh lilacs every single week if she’d let him. 

GOTHAM CITY - GLADSTONES DINER

FRESHMAN YEAR - DICK

DECEMBER 3RD, 11:30 PM

“No, he didn’t.” Shutting the textbook, Dick leaned forward, begging for her to continue. 

“Yes!” Mary met him halfway across the booth, whispering conspiratorially, “It’s all over the internet. He literally went on the show and had a whole second family the entire time. If you watch it, you’ll see him being shifty but …” She hid her face in her hands, giggling at the absurdity, “Even I couldn’t have guessed that.” 

The waitress gave them a pointed look as she passed by their booth a third time. Dick furrowed his eyes apologetically, holding in his laughter. Lowering his voice to an even quieter whisper, he shook his head. 

“So this is what you’re doing while I’m off-world. Watching reality TV.”

Mary sat back, stacking their plates as he packed up his bag, “Did you think I do all this revising without multitasking. Buddy, I’m sitting here every Friday watching really bad television on half my screen and you never even notice.”

Handing him her bag, she made her way to the counter, balancing the dishes, “But back to my point, he tries to apologize for being a two-timing cheater by getting her roses… red.” Scrunching her nose, she handed them over to the waitress, with a grateful smile, “Thank you, Marley.”

“We loooveee you,” Dick called from the doorway as Mary ducked under his arm. The snow was just beginning to fall outside. Hopping down the last step, he slid down the sidewalk, waiting as Mary slowly caught up. 

“Red roses, huh? What kind of idiot gets a girl roses?” 

He’d gotten Kori roses last week for their anniversary. 

“You got her pink and orange ones. They’re cute; they matched her hair.” Mary poked his side, “You’re about as red as a tomato right now.”

“Stop embarrassing me and get back to your story. What did she say?”

Mary waved a hand around, accepting her backpack back. Forgoing the icy ground, she moved onto the grass, “That’s the thing! She took him back because it was a ‘genuine mistake’. How does having a wife and kids back at home count as a mistake? Give me a break!”

“You’re going to rot your brain.”

“You’ve had like a hundred concussions since I met you. I don’t want to hear it.” Climbing the hill back to the dorms, Dick watched the shadowy corners as she rambled, “And the worst part is she told him her favorite flowers. Peonies! You can get them at any shop in the country, and if you can’t… peony scented candles, perfumes, lotions! The options are endless.” Reaching for her keys, she raised a brow, “You know what my favorite flower is?”

Leaning against the wall, Dick raised a brow back, “Why would I know your favorite flower?”

She paused for a moment before tilting her head in agreement, “You have a point there, but I had like two cups of coffee in the past hour -”

“Three.”

“ Three cups of coffee . So I’ll tell you. It’s lilacs. I love lilacs.” Sighing wistfully, she unlocked the door, “My dad grows them. Keeps about five trees in the grove just for me.” Slipping off her backpack and shoes, she walked over to her desk, grabbing the raw data Dick had promised to do the statistical analysis for, “But here’s the thing about lilacs.”

“You’re boring me, Mare.” He looked up from his text to Kori, itching to see her since the moment she arrived back at the tower. Accepting the stack of papers from her, he pocketed his phone. “What’s so special about lilacs?”

“Their scent can’t be isolated.” Mary yawned, leaning her head against the doorway. “Go to any perfume counter and you’ll see I’m right. Lilacs don’t have enough oil in their petals for perfumers to isolate the scent. So it’s all synthetic, the only way to get the real deal is to get it fresh.” 

“Mhmmm.”

Mary rolled her eyes, “You’re such a boy, at least pretend your mind is blown.”

Dick widened his eyes, clutching his chest mockingly, “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry you picked such a weird flower to be your favorite. Whatever will you do?”

“Wait for someone to love me enough to get me fresh lilacs. One day, my dad’s going to pass, and there won’t be anyone to cut me a bouquet. The least I can do is find the right guy to buy me one to hang in the windowsill.” She tapped her hands against the door frame. He could see her eyes watching the clock behind him. 8 am would come sooner than they expected. 

“Tell your boyfriend to get you some.” He replied, pushing himself off the wall as she moved to shut the door. 

“He does, occasionally.” Mary yawned again, waving her fingers, “Night, Dick. Thanks again.” 

The door shut with a quiet click, leaving him alone with a new fun fact about a flower he didn’t even care about. 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 8:00 PM

She had a case. Dot’s unconnected, red string everywhere. She had a case, and she was nowhere near solving it. 

Oh god, was she okay?

Too many people were hurt for her to be smiling like this. She should be burning the midnight oil right now, working until her brain melted into mush and so much nervous energy coursed through her body that she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. 

But Dick’s eyes were like the cloudless day, the type of blue she used to see only when climbing the highest tree in the orchard. He looked relaxed, happy even. 

So maybe, logically speaking, this was needed. Maybe her mind would run faster after dancing around her kitchen like an idiot. Lower stress response, shorter recovery time, consolidated memories, the research was all out there to justify taking a break. 

A break?

Did she need to check for a fever?

Begrudgingly, she dropped his hand, stepping back towards her forgotten computer. It was the last thing she wanted to do. Her hands felt hot, and there was a nauseous pit in her stomach. Good grief, she couldn’t afford to get sick now; there was too much work to be done. 

“Mary?” 

Her heart rate was speeding up; she didn’t dare think about what her blood pressure could be. Ending up at the hospital due to whatever over-exhaustion she’d induced would leave Daniel alone in the dust. She’d never be able to live that down; pictures of her connected to an IV pole in a gown would be everywhere. 

Plus, there was a serial killer on the lose and …

Cutting off the spiral in her mind, she forced herself to look up and answer Dick’s questioning tone. His mouth was open, eyes furrowed, right finger tapping restlessly against his leg. The Richard Grayson special for the cues of disappointment. 

“Yeah?” 

She took a deep breath; his chest rose, mirroring hers. Narrowing her eyes, she watched as his pupils dilated just the slightest hint following the action. 

Scrunching her nose, analysis took over her like a well-worn cap, drowning out the rest of the space. Music, and nausea, and everything in between. Not knowing something was worse than being sick. Being left in the dark prickled at her skin like a thousand needles, and she was already in the dark because of the case. She needed to know the cause of the disappointment, or she might die. 

“If we-” Dick swallowed, there was the slightest movement of his Adam’s apple, his face growing pale. The step he took back was useless; it only put a few inches between them. 

Half-lidded, he watched her as intently as she did him and - 

Oh. 

Her eyes fought against the squint, slowly widening as more than half a decade of friendship just mended, cracked once more.

Mirroring, physiological responses, proximity. Those were all textbook behaviors of - 

A charge sparked between the snaking fractures, giving birth to something neither had a playbook for. The potential was grotesquely beautiful, its presence bringing back the pit in her stomach, twisting harshly. 

At least they were both on the same page, even if it was happening at the worst possible time.

How in the world was she supposed to hound him with a case? 

Color bloomed back into Dick’s face slowly as he took another step back, that practiced smile fighting for control. As quickly as it came, he dropped it, gaze darting to the side. “Don’t go on that date alone.”

“What do you suggest?” She muttered softly back. 

“Let me tag you. Just in case something goes south.”

Mary was just shy of responding when her front door unlocked. Val would never come without calling first, and Daniel would at the very least knock. Anyone else would use the window. Tossing Dick a sharp look, she moved to round the corner only to be pulled back by her wrist. 

The door opened, and the sound of two pairs of boots hit the hardwood floor. Dick froze, and a sharp pain bloomed in her head. 

“Holy - Jason wasn’t lying.”

Chapter Text

June 22nd, 8:45 PM

You guys seeing what I'm seeing?

June 22nd, 8:45 PM

Leave them alone

June 22nd, 8:46 PM

No.

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 22nd, 8:00 PM

Mary hadn’t been aware that a headache could worsen just from the sound of someone’s voice, but Tim’s bounced off every neuron she had. Sucking in a breath, she pointed at his shoes and the teenager, still in his Red Robin costume, obliged, setting them on the shoe rack. Behind him, a purple-clad blonde slowly copied, brows furrowed, clearly trying to catch up on what she missed. 

“Hey, Mary, can we come in?” The lock pick he’d used was still unashamedly in his hands. “Did you make food? Sweet!”

Shoving past his brother, Tim attempted to enter the kitchen. Dick reached out, holding his arm in an iron grip, mouth open, a lecture practically visible on the tip of his tongue. 

“Of course, I wasn’t lying.” The distinct noise of her window shutting and leather against couch cushions reverberated against the walls. “Hey, if we’re good, I bet they’ll take us to Al’s.”

From where she stood, Mary could see the slightest movement looming outside her window, foreshadowing what was to come. Sighing, she moved to pull more food out of the freezer. 

“You’re not being good,” Dick replied through gritted teeth, shoving Tim into the living room with Jason. His victim had planted his feet, putting up a good fight against the action. 

“Steph, this is Mary,” Tim said breathlessly, going deadweight against Dick, “She’s with the GCPD, you might’ve seen her at some point. She and Dick are … friends? Are you guys friends now?”

“Obviously.” Jason called from his spot on the couch, “All it took was me showing up for that to happen. Because, as I always say, I am the glue of this three-man group.”

Mary cackled as Dick cursed under his breath, finally succeeding in his task. Nodding towards the only other girl in the apartment, she gave a wink, “Make yourself at home, Stephanie. Would you like a drink?”

“Uh, water?”

Opening her fridge, she pushed aside the bottle of cold brew, “How’s your burn, kid Jay?”

“He’ll survive. I left the things with him. If that’s fine, I can pay you back?”

Handing the girl the bottle of water, Mary turned back to the box of breadsticks in her hand. Quickly adding another bullet point to the grocery list on the fridge, she called back, “No need!” 

Dick leaned against the dividing wall between the two rooms. One arm crossed over his chest, he rubbed his temple with the other, frowning. Mary tossed him a consoling smile back. 

The Hayes household on paper always had only one child in it. But when there were only a handful of children in the entire town, every home became one’s own, and you made due with the company you had. Bruce Wayne’s children were rowdy, but as strange as their lives were, their behavior wasn’t that abnormal … considering the circumstances. 

Before Kristy’s death, Mary could recall a dozen times being dragged out of the fields by her father for egging the Rowen twins on to light up a haybale. Grace Moroney still had a permanent scar on her right arm from the year they’d all agreed to steal some fireworks. And unless someone checked her medical record, no one would realize that at the bright age of nine, Mary had received the rabies vaccine for a secret she and Matthew Parr would go to the grave with. 

A full, rowdy house was nice. Nostalgic even. As long as at least one adult maintained a semblance of control. 

“Don’t you have things to do? Routes to complete?” Dick muttered helplessly, proving that he would not be the one in control tonight. 

“They’re complete.” A soft voice said from behind her. The kitchen window was open, and Cass entered without a sound. Mary placed a hand over her chest, forcing her heart to slow down. “Hello, Detective.”

“Hi.” At least the air fryer hadn’t been washed and put away yet. The girl tapped her shoulder as she passed, pointing down. Turning around, Mary jumped, dropping the box of breadsticks, “Aces!”

“Spades?” Robin shoved the box back into her hands with a huff of annoyance. “Grayson, what is the meaning of this?”

The dark head disappeared into her living room with the rest of the merry crew. Locking eyes with Dick, she motioned for him to take a deep breath. The night had already been emotionally draining; it couldn’t get worse from here. Dick pouted back, and she rolled her eyes, setting the timer before pushing into the living room. 

Pointing at her usual two suspects, she laid a stern look on Tim in particular. Jason still had a tinge of deep-seated respect from his childhood. He’d listen slightly better. 

“I’m going to wash my hair. This is not the cave. If anything is out of place, you’re all out.”

“No introductions? That’s cruel, M.”

Leaning against the back of the couch above the seated Jason, she narrowed her eyes, “Raise your hand if you haven’t seen me at least once in your life.” The room remained relatively unchanged, besides Tim’s waving arm. “Put your hand down, you leech.”

Backing away towards her bedroom, she nodded, “Tim knows where everything is. Take the food out when the timer is done. 

Twenty minutes later, she was surprised that her apartment was still intact

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 22ND, 8:30 PM

Dick knew his younger brother wasn’t a fan of rules. Damian reveled in being defiant, a one-kid trailblazer against most forms of authority. Unless, however, said rule following could be weaponized. 

Currently, the ten-year-old was standing near Mary’s bookshelf doing just that. 

“While unsurprising, I find it wildly inappropriate that you have revealed your identity to a civilian Drake.” Damian glared at his brother, who had made himself comfortable on the floor next to the armchair that Steph and Cass were huddled on. 

Tim dragged one arm slowly across the room, where no party besides Damian was still wearing a mask. His youngest sibling remained purposefully unaware of the point being made. 

Dick turned as the door behind him clicked lightly shut. Hair pinned back, Mary had changed out of her pajamas and was currently buttoning a cardigan over her tank top. The brown color was drab against the room of reds, purples, and yellows, but she seemed like the brightest thing in the room as she rejoined the conversation. 

Resuming her spot leaning over Jason, she tsked at the ten-year-old, “We’re all friends here, Damian Wayne, or is it Al-Ghul Wayne?” 

Dick took one more sip of the coffee he’d helped himself to before handing it to her. Mary accepted it graciously, blowing on the steaming cup. 

“We are not friends, Detective. You are a subordinate at best who should not know my name.” Damian flared his nostrils, throwing a withering glare in his direction, “Why would you tell her, Grayson?” 

Dick grinned at the boy who looked just shy of stomping his feet. It was difficult to bite back his laugh as across the room, the armchair trio mimed the upcoming tantrum. 

Tilting his head solemnly, Dick replied, “I didn’t.”

“You must have.” 

“Nope.” He made a show of popping the ‘p’, rocking on his heels. 

“I’m psychic. I figured you out before I even met you.” Mary took a sip of coffee as she came around the couch, “You didn’t think my clearance rate was natural, did you?”

Damian remained unimpressed, coming to stand before her slowly, “That’s ridiculous.”

Mary shrugged, her mouth set as if carved in stone, “Hey, what reason would I have to lie to you? I could lose my job.” 

She set the mug down to place the lid over the candle. A smart choice of removing the open flame as Damian grew more irate. 

As she sat back down next to Jason, Dick leaned over, chin resting on her head. Mimicking his youngest brother’s usual haughty tone, he assured, “It’s true. They get fired from the GCPD if they lie.”

Mary nodded solemnly. Damian rolled his eyes. 

“I am not a fool, Grayson.”

“Suit yourself”, Mary said airily, “I thought it was a fact that everyone knew. 

The boy looked between his brother and the detective, the suspicion in his eyes faltering slightly. He reached as if to check his comm and made a move towards the door, “I must go speak with father on an important matter.”

Turning swiftly on his heel, the Robin left. 

There was bated silence until the door clicked shut, and Mary’s demeanor broke, doubling over into laughter. Dick joined in a moment later, pounding on Jason’s shoulder beside him, practically falling onto the couch between them. 

“I cannot believe that still works.” The words were interjected by giggles, “You used to fall for the same thing.” With a shaking hand, Mary pointed at Jason, who looked as if he were having war flashbacks. 

Blue eyes wide and shell-shocked, the young man stared ahead, letting Dick shake him before exclaiming, “You two were lying!”

Dick finally fell onto the cushions, head in Mary’s lap, feet over Jason’s. In between clutching his stomach, he said, “Jay, almost everything we told you was a lie. You were twelve and gullible.”

“Are you even allergic to lemons?” Jason shoved his feet off harshly. 

Dick shook his head slowly, a large grin spreading over his face. “Nah, I only told you that so you’d feel bad and give me all the berry tarts.”

The young man stared as the childhood he knew crumbled around him, “You’re sick. Both of you, absolutely sick.” 

Mary chuckled, hiding her face in her hand, as Jason gave her a disgusted look before storming off the way he came. 

“Stay safe!”

And then there were three. Duke must’ve been busy or passed out if his usual counterparts hadn’t dragged him out for the group project of breaking into Mary’s apartment. Dick sighed; he’d be complaining about being left out for the next month and a half at least. 

Fingernails scratched at his scalp, and he became very well aware that his head was still lying against Mary’s lap. The blonde absentmindedly ran her hands through his hair as Stephanie perked up, asking her about the case. 

“Is it true that there’s a serial killer on the loose? Not going to lie, I’ve been eavesdropping on Bab’s in the watchtower all week. I feel like this thing has to be solvable at this point.”

Cass shook her head beside her, stretching a foot out to tap Tim’s head. He responded by handing her another breadstick. 

“No, I watched the footage with Barbara and Bruce when Dick sent them the crime scenes. Whoever this guy is, he is incredibly smart. Whenever a body is deposited, the footage cuts out perfectly -”

“Or in the case of the most recent one, there are no cameras. Am I right?” Tim nodded towards Mary, watching her hand quizzically. 

“You’re right. Lack of footage and any physical evidence makes the entire thing hinge on behavioral analysis and a confession.” Mary spoke in her usual low tone, resolute like a lecturer on a podium. Dick leaned further into her touch, swearing he could fall asleep to her musings. 

“Unless forensics somehow works a miracle and conjures up a hair sample or skin under fingernails. But like Cass mentioned, the unsub is smart. If I have to get my hands dirty, I’m a ghost. But I’ve been easily recruiting partners to do my dirty work, so in the eyes of the law … there’s nothing to say I exist, let alone did it.”

“‘I?’” Stephanie questioned. 

Dick shut his eyes, replying in a quiet voice, “It’s a thing profilers do. Cass reads behaviors and anticipates them. Mary gets directly into the head of the person she’s observing. Using ‘I’ or ‘You’ helps when you don’t know the gender, or in this case, it’s helping Mare become more immersed.”

“That sounds …”

“Like pseudoscience?” Mary turned her full attention to the girl in purple, voice silvery and tinged with teasing, “I don’t blame you for questioning. It’s not an exact science, but it works. Think of it as heightened perception mixed with years of studying human psychology.”

She straightened, moving her hand to her knee before Dick reached over, placing it back where it belonged. He winced at the slight tug on his hair, cracking one eye open to see Mary motioning him to sit up. Unwillingly, he did, stretching to grab the coffee cup back off the table. 

“Give ‘em a demonstration, Hayes.”

“Geeze, don’t pressure a girl”, Mary teased, shaking her shoulders out before placing her chin in her palm, eyes becoming slitted. She slowly pointed to the trio. “Angry that Tim didn’t tell her more before arriving here. Unsure of how to respond to some prodding questions from his boyfriend so he keeps just turning off the phone. And Cass recently saw ….” Slowly lowering her finger, Mary paused, “… well, that’s not my story to tell.” 

Dick turned his head sharply, coffee sloshing in the cup, “Nuhuh, tell me now.”

“Since when do you boss me around, Richard?” 

Dick ran his tongue over his teeth, tilting his head as pretty eyes stared him down before turning his attention to Cass. Giving her a look that said ‘we’ll talk about this later’, she simply responded with a roll of her eyes. 

Tim stood dramatically, working to break the tension. Rubbing his hands together, he paced the length of the room, “So what I’m hearing is our agenda is to confirm the profile and get the POI to confess to a triable degree.”

“This is not a group project, Tim. Your agenda is to go back home and finish doing whatever you three ditched Bruce on.” Dick was well aware of how much his voice sounded like his adopted father as he dismissed the young adults, but the words flew out before he had time to take them back.

“Hell no.” Stephanie interjected, “He’s been trying to pass off some Condiment King-related business. This is much more fun.”

Mary shook her head, standing with an audible pop of her shoulder as she stretched. Crossing the room, Dick saw her double-check the lock on the window before drawing the curtain against the cloudy evening. Leaning against the window, she crossed her arms.

“This isn’t fun . Five people, all clustered around your age range, have died. Horrible, gruesome deaths that are going to affect the people around them for the rest of their lives.” Dick bit his lip as her eyes clouded with memories, before she offered Stephanie a small smile, “I’m not against any of you helping, this is my case, I decide that. But I can’t be worrying for you or any other person’s safety.”

“Which is why you’re going one-on-one with the top suspect?” Cass questioned, leaning her head against Stephanie’s shoulder. 

She looked tired, like she had her own issues weighing her down. Considering Mary’s secret deduction, Dick wasn’t surprised if she was. Someone needed to talk to her, whether that was him or Bab’s, or Bruce. He was hoping it might be the latter, considering all he had on his plate. 

“He’s not a suspect, he’s a POI.” Mary bit her cheek, her cardigan falling, revealing a freckled shoulder, “He doesn’t fit the most important part of my profile; heightened intelligence. The man barely passed EMT school. Does that sound like someone who could murder and move a body virtually unnoticed?” 

“Then what’s the point?”

Mary raised her hands, exasperated, “To see if I can clock more of his behavior. Intelligence is varied. Currently, I’m going off old academic records that Barbara got us, but I can do more with a recorded conversation.” 

Tim drummed his fingers on the floor, “Run through the profile again.”

Dick frowned as she adjusted her sleeve before speaking rapidly, “Young, white, adult male. Insecure around those he deems above him, charming to those below him. Check and check. Grayson, back me up on this.”

Mulling through his memories, Dick nodded in agreement. His brief interactions with Parker had either been awkward or snippy. Around Mary, the man was more personable, bordering on charming.

“She’s right. He’s weird around me, but I’m a threat to him. Mary’s a smaller woman, that he still can’t distinguish from the girl he knew. He talks to her much more easily.”

His heart practically skipped a beat as Mary scrunched her nose at him approvingly. From the corner of his eye, Dick could see the three amigos exchanging glances. 

This was not going to go well for him. 

It was unlikely that Mary didn’t notice, and more that she didn’t care. She finished off with a rapid flurry, “He’s even got the personal reasons to back up this behavior. A lifelong insecurity about his height. Child of an incredibly messy divorce that pulled him away from the community he thrived in. That can mess up a person’s sense of self. But it doesn’t make him an incredibly adept killer.” She shook her hands in front of her face, “Because nothing about him says that he’s intelligent enough to pull it off!”

The room fell silent, as Mary dropped back onto the couch, burying her face in Dicks lap, reversing their previous position. In a muffled voice, she said dejectedly, “Too bad he’s my only POI. He’s the most untriable person of interest ever.”

Dick patted her head, and Tim took in the information pacing. Cass gave him a pointed look, and he jutted his chin towards Mary’s bag at the entrance. The young woman got the point, standing to grab the files in the bag. She split the stack in half, handing the other to Stephanie. 

“What if he’s meta?” Tim pondered, “He wouldn’t need to be smart if he could just be invisible.”

Steph scoffed, moving down to the floor to spread the files out in front of her, “Meta’s still leave DNA, idiot.”

“And Bruce would have caught a new meta in his city before a crime even occurred,” Cass added softly, stretching as she finally got the whole armchair to herself. 

“Well, I don’t see anyone else offering ideas.”

“Maybe Tim has a point.” Dick narrowed his eyes slightly, the irony not lost on him. 

They’d spent this entire time playing by the book. Thinking in the way that the police did, the playbook of how to solve a crime. Wait for a body to drop, try to collect evidence, and match it to someone. Mary was a profiler; her role here was practically done. 

Give law enforcement the profile and move on to the next case. Let them solve it themselves, and when that didn’t work, push it off as a cold case. But this was personal now; they’d both grown attached to the case. 

And they had one trick at their disposal. They didn’t have to think like law enforcement. Not when they could think like the Bat. Dick closed his eyes, thinking through almost sixteen years of experience by the man’s side. 

“Do you remember two summers ago when Scarecrow tried to gas the entire mayoral ball downtown?” Dick spoke slowly, connecting the memories to the present. Cass was the first to perk up, setting her reading down, “And we were able to track his funds needed to formulate the new fear gas used back to Penguin.”

Tim paused in the middle, scratching his head, “Yeah, but the whole thing was technically a front so that Joker could bomb the chemical plant, and he was using the Penguin funding Scarecrow as a distraction - Ohhhhh I see where you’re going here.” 

“Holcomb doesn’t need to be the dominant partner if he’s the middleman.” Dick grinned, shaking Mary’s shoulder, “Our real dominant partner might be completely outside the geographic profile, teaching from a distance.” 

Mary sat up with a gasp, hands on her knees. Face flushed, she stared at him intently, “Richard, you are a genius! I could kiss you!” 

“Oh, please do.”

“I love you, I love you.” Mary scrambled off the couch, pulling Tim into a tight hug, “If this theory is correct, I can split my profile.” Taking over the role of pacer, she whirled around the room, “While Dick and I work on connecting Holcomb to the crimes in any capacity, could you-”

“Work on cracking the pattern for the killings?” Tim cocked his head, looking over towards his fellow young vigilantes.

Stephanie stood, picking up her things.“Obviously, we’ll help.” 

Offering Cass her hand, the two stood, sliding comms back in their ears. Dick stood moving to help Mary pick up the empty plate and strewn files. Tomorrow evening would help complete the case or drive them further away from the truth. 

If Bruce were here, he’d do everything in his power to confirm results. He’d fight for the truth, even if others would disagree on the methods. Even if Mary would call it overstepping.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Will you tail me as Nightwing tomorrow?”

The words came out simultaneously. Dick blinked at Mary, caught off guard. The detective shifted her gaze to the side, setting the plates in the sink as Tim opened the door, peering down the hallway. 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page with that, too.” Mary’s voice was soft, “I don’t have many neighbors on this floor, Tim. You can hop out of the window in the hall facing the alley; no one will notice.” 

She received three nods and several goodbyes in response. Dick waved, leaning against the doorway, watching to make sure the suited teens safely melted into the night. He tapped against the doorframe, looking at Mary on the other side of the threshold. 

“Are you heading out too?” Adjusting her cardigan once more, she gazed at him expectantly. 

Dick took a step back reluctantly further into the hall, clearing his throat, “Probably should. I need to use the batcomputer to check on some things.”

Ask me to stay. 

“Okay.” Mary moved to shut the door, “Good night.”

“Night, Mary, see you tomorrow.”

The last thing he saw was her fleeting smile, “It’s a date.”

Chapter Text

June 22nd, 10:30 AM 

I don’t like you being alone with him, Hayes 

BLUDHAVEN - CIRQUE TRIUMPH

ONE DAY AGO- MARY

JUNE 22ND, 10:30 AM

Mary sighed after reading the text, holding up a finger to Dick, who was pulling his hair out across the tent. He glanced over his shoulder, barely looking away from his own call to the Bludhaven PD. It took a beat, but he turned back again, brows furrowed, mouthing ‘what?’ 

Waving her phone as a response, Mary shoved the flap aside, stepping out of the tent. Avoiding the vomit, she weaved past performers and curious bystanders. She clicked into a familiar contact once a few feet away. 

Away from the blood and the dead teenager staring back at her. Away from the impending insanity that was the day.

Pressing the phone to her ear, she heard Daniel’s voice on the other end almost instantly. Relief bloomed in her chest as she leaned against one of the trailer cars. 

“What’s the damage?”

There was shuffling on the other end, likely him packing up all his things to make it over to Triumph as fast as he could. Someone was barking orders behind him. Incredibly loud and annoyingly.

The insecure Bludhaven Detective.  

“A blood bath. Worse than the Dysons.” Mary rubbed at her eye, her fingers coming back smudged with mascara. “Jesus, it’s another kid, Daniel. How long are we going to play this game?”

There was silence on the other end before Daniel replied harshly, “As long as we have to.” 

She could hear the police sirens wailing in the distance, the first batch of support arriving. Her legs felt heavy, and all she wanted was to slide down into the grass and never get up.

“Where’s our friend?”

Mary massaged her temple, muttering a non-response. The last thing she wanted to think about was accusing someone she knew. Daniel’s agenda was very different.”

“This murder happened when he was unaccounted for, right? How much time are we talking?” Voice clouded with concern, she winced as he slammed a car door shut a bit too harshly, “Because I know you grew up with this dude or whatever, but he’s sounding more and more like our guy.”

The sun blazed over the top of her head, and Mary looked down, noting that her shirt was practically ruined thanks to Dicks heroic actions. She sighed, harshly rubbing at the stain before swatting at a bug flying around her.

The circus was no longer fun. 

“I just … I know this sounds crazy, but you need to trust me. I know for a fact this isn’t something he’s capable of. And if you don’t trust me, trust the profile. He barely fits it.”

She knew she wasn’t making sense. If this were any other scenario, she’d be chewing her own self out. But how could she prove someone was a good person when part of their lives was completely unaccounted for? 

“Young, connected to the circus, he conveniently interacts with Shelling at work, plus another body conveniently pops up when he’s around.” Daniel listed off the attributes monotonously, “That doesn’t sound like a POI to you? I couldn’t care less what his job is, every career has its sickos. I’m just saying this isn’t a good look.”

Mary could see Dick stepping out of the tent from her vantage point. He looked around until he spotted where she’d hidden herself. Waving back to him, she motioned that she’d be back soon. 

“Look, fine. You don’t have to trust me on this. Test him then, prove he’s genuine.” She stood on her toes, able to see cops pulling up at the front entrance. She needed to get back before the tent became too crowded. “Just get here and interview the kids. I promise that everything will be kept between you and me. Like always. Until you give the go-ahead that he’s ok.” 

“And if he’s not squeaky? Then what?” Mendez questioned one last time. 

“Trust me. Dick’s as good as they come.” Her feet began to move back to the tent on their own accord. “He’s physically incapable of fitting the profile of a killer.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” 

June 22nd, 10:30 PM 

You were right. Bring him in.  

GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 23rd, 6:00 AM

“Good morning, Princess!”

Dick blearily cracked his eyes open, his old bedroom coming into focus. The old posters, the ridiculous thread count sheets, a closet full of clothes no one could even pay him to wear anymore.

A version of himself frozen in time. 

Groggily, the first thing to hit his senses was the relentless pounding of rain. A Gotham staple, veering on almost being comforting. The second was the prettiest sight he swore he’d ever seen. 

Mary grinned above him, holding two cups of coffee from Gladstones. Freckles galore, her hair was harshly pulled half up, the rest falling like silk down her back as she moved to pull his curtains open.

“Look at that beautiful day. The city has once again blessed us with the perfect weather.” 

The teasing wormed its way into his mushy brain, and he sat up, rubbing his face. The alarm clock he’d stolen from Jason at some point blinked 6:00 am back at him. 

And Mary had the audacity to come in, clearly up for hours, while he was still in his Superman pajamas. 

Her GCPD-issued coat was slick from the rain, and she shrugged it off onto his old desk chair. Adjusting the sleeve of her pink blouse, she made the short trip to sit on the edge of his bed, the smile never falling off her face. 

“Seriously, get up, we’ve got things to do today.”

“What sort of things are we talking about?” Dick stood, working out a crick in his neck. 

Following suit, Mary stood with him, hesitating before moving to smooth the collar of his pajamas. He understood her wavering; the action bordered on illegal, the way her fingers burned through the fabric to his skin. 

Nose scrunched, she pondered before saying, “I think I’ll tell you on the way. I put in a favor to Barbara Gordon, which, might I add, we both may need to marry that woman. Incredible help and wonderful company.” Dick felt his gaze drop lower and lower as Mary’s lips just kept moving, “She moved some things around in the BPD employee system, so you are officially off and mine for the day.”

“I’m fine with that.” 

“Why wouldn’t you be? I’m a treat.” Her palm covered a portion of the shirt’s symbol, resting there for far too short a time before she pushed away, “Nice pajamas.”

Dick groaned, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s the first thing Alfred threw at me when I arrived back here.”

“Mhmm.” Mary peered out the doorway before launching herself down the hall, “Get dressed.” Her voice carried as she called, “Mr. Wayne, could you help me with something?”

There was a beat of silence before she poked her head back in, “Seriously, hurry up, I’ve got a plan.” 

GOTHAM CITY - BATCAVE

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23rd, 7:00 AM

Mary could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in the Batcave.

Once, shortly after figuring out Dick’s identity, and a second time, the day after his disastrous 20th birthday. The memories of sitting in the same chair, being interrogated like a national-scale threat, still haunted her. The Bat didn’t pull verbal punches for anyone. 

The last time had been about three years ago. Tim had begged for weeks before convincing both Bruce and herself that she could aid them with their case. The crimes had been so location-based, she’d only needed about an hour with the computer’s data to create a detailed geographic profile. 

Her work had been rewarded with a sniff of approval and being escorted back out to her car by Alfred. 

This time felt different, as she sat in an actual cushioned seat and not a metal chair designed to make her uncomfortable. Looking around, she noted the changes to the cave over the years. Somehow it felt even bigger and more tech-savvy. Although her more intimidating visits may have skewed her perceptions of the space. 

“You haven’t worn a wire, have you?” Bruce asked, voice gruff as he clicked the two electronic pieces together. The sentence barely classified as a question. It was practically a sure-fire statement. 

Mary nodded, hands clasped in her lap, “No, sir. I was behind the desk at the BAU. There was no need.”

“Bruce.” 

Mary hummed softly, accepting the earpiece, “I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne, but my mother would kill me if I called you that.”

That was no exaggeration. Emily Hayes would have her daughter buried six feet deep under the Morello trees if she even got a whiff that Mary was losing her manners. Let alone losing them around a man who was both her elder and a billionaire. 

“I insist Mariam. Please don’t offend me.” 

The chiding was gentle. As strict as Batman was around her, Bruce himself has always been nice. Like any parent that didn’t outright disapprove of his kids friends.

There was still more good in the man than bad after everything he’d endured. 

She felt her hair being pushed aside and then the cold of the small comm being placed in her ear. 

Bruce leaned back, inspecting the fit. His words as he did so were laced with pride, “Normally, you pull through the shirt to keep the wire concealed.”

The silence finished the rest of the sentence for him.

We don’t deal with trivial things like that here. 

Holding another in his hands, he showed her how to mess with the volume and channels. Mary watched intently, tapping one foot against her seat. Reaching up to the device in her ear, she switched to the channel he instructed. 

A youthful voice spoke sheepishly on the other end. It wasn’t one she was familiar with. 

“Uhhh, Oracle … what street was that again?”

Barbara Gordon could be heard dramatically sighing before repeating a set of directions. Mary pursed her lips, looking back at Bruce questioningly. 

“That would be Signal on the day shift.” Bruce checked his watch, looking back up with kind blue eyes. “Any questions?”

“Not that I can think of.” Mary sighed, pulling the comm back out of her ear, “Unless you can help me figure out my number pattern.”

Bruce rolled a shoulder, sitting down in the chair beside her. The man didn’t reply immediately, typing quickly into the large computer. When he finally spoke, his gaze was completely focused on the algorithm he’d pulled the numbers through. 

“It’ll be something of significance to the killer. I can’t tell you what. Every sequence seems arbitrary.” The screen stopped, reading an error message, and he turned apologetically, “I’ve tried multiple times, Mariam, as have others. It’s not going to be something you find in any databases.”

“ Mary, not Mariam. I insist.” She teased, leaning her head in her hands, “39, 50, 18. Any shot he stops at a set of three?”

Bruce shot her a look that practically called her ridiculous. Mary dropped her head onto the table, “Yeah, that’s wishful thinking, isn’t it? He’s not going to stop until someone ‘notices’. Well, he’s leaving pretty shoddy clues if he wants us to notice anything.”

Straightening, she narrowed her eyes in thought.

Clues.  

Bruce dealt with attention seekers and clues every day. Maybe there was a trick there she could learn from. As it stood, the Bat had a level of deduction she only hoped to attain a fraction of. 

“Hey … how do you get over the hurdle of the Riddler’s puzzles?” 

“I solve them.” Bruce’s smile was small but self-satisfied. “They often have some relevance to me or the city. Those are the easy ones to figure out.”

Figures.  

“Usually.” An amused voice called, entering the room with thundering steps, “Other times you just beat the snot out of him.” 

Bruce stood, powering off the computer. He nodded towards his son. 

“About time you joined us, Dick.” 

“I had to find you guys first.” Placing an arm over Mary’s head, he complained, “Hiding out here to avoid me.”

“Didn’t work, obviously.” Mary looked up; the heat from his arm radiated, like a blow dryer left on the highest setting for too long. “Lookie, I’ve finally got the goods to talk to you tonight.”

Dick whistled at the comm, leaning down further, “That’s impressive. They don’t give those out to just anyone.” 

Standing, Mary gave Bruce one last incredibly grateful ‘thank you’ before heading out of the cave. Dick walked ahead a few steps, hands behind his back, dimpled smile gracing his features.

“Well, they did give one to you.” 

“Not when I first started. These new kids are lucky they get fancy comms right away.” 

He threw a pointed look at Damian, who was eating his breakfast. The boy glared back, tossing Mary a sneer. Before he could open his mouth, likely to throw some insults about letting those who are unworthy into the cave, Dick had already placed a hand against the small of her back. 

It was a nasty habit he’d learned back in college, when he wanted to push her out of the lab early or was trying to avoid a professor and had decided to drag her into it as well. Mary could hear the screech of her shoes skidding on the floor as he shoved her out the door with a hushed, “Go, go.”

“Now - wait. Richard - Hold up!” Holding onto the frame of the main door, Mary struggled against the man, yelling back in, “Thank you for the hospitality, Alfred!”

She wasn’t able to hear a response as Dick grabbed her by the waist, pulling her away. Mary rolled her eyes as they made their way to the car, and he threw an arm over her shoulders instead. 

“I thought you said we have a busy day.” He replied far too innocently. 

GOTHAM CITY 

PRESENT DAY - Dick

JUNE 23rd, 7:30 AM

“Okay, spill, what’s this plan you’ve got?” Dick asked as Mary slowly pulled into a parking spot. 

She drove like a grandmother. A hot, incredibly young grandmother, whose large sunglasses annoyingly covered half her face. But a grandmother nonetheless. 

Opening her glove box, Dick peered into it, earning a sharp hiss from the driver’s seat. He looked up, a tugging at the corner of his lips as she dropped the glasses into the cup holder. 

“We’re waiting for some-” Her words were cut off with a scream, as fists banged on her window. Rolling it down, she glared up at the person standing before her, gritting out, “Get in the car.”

Mendez laughed, opening the back door and sliding into the car, “Good morning, Mariam.” Shaking a bag of peanuts, he deposited a handful into Dick’s hand, “How are you doing, handsome?” 

“That is so disgusting. Do not eat those in my car.” Came the immediate complaint, as Mary pulled out back onto the road. 

“It’s my breakfast. You want Richard and me to starve.”

Dick swallowed the handful, looking back at the teasing man, before saying pitifully, “She wants us to be malnourished.”

It earned him a high five from the backseat and a groan from the driver. Mary turned again, straight towards the downtown district, eyes on the road, hands set at nine and three. She was doing a great job ignoring the two-man show that was her passengers. 

“Sleep well?” Mendez crooned from the back after a beat of silence, “You two sharing apartments in Gotham, too?”

“I don’t like your implication.” Mary clicked her tongue, “Dick’s from Gotham. He stayed with family.”

Dick turned to the back, tilting his head, “She slept for six hours. Like a baby.”

“See, Mariam, is it so hard to talk to me without an attitude?”

Mendez’s usual carefree self was present in full force. But something was off about him, Dick thought as he scanned the man. He had to do a double-take when he noticed the clothing. Mendez was wearing a regular suit with a navy tie. 

No bright colors. 

No pattern to be seen. 

Not even a fun pin or clip on his tie. 

The two detectives had planned for something serious. Important enough that Mendez was following a dress code. 

And Dick still had no idea where they were even going. Is this how his teammates felt when he would go full Bat and just drop them into preplanned situations unannounced? 

“Where are we going?” He blurted out in annoyance, the same time Mary stopped the car in front of a … hair salon?

“Okay, now I really have no idea what the hell is going on.”

The driver’s side door opened as Mary tossed her keys back to her partner. Mendez climbed into the driver’s seat, his shoes an inch away from Dicks nose at one point. The detective gave him a wink, connecting his phone and turning up the music. 

“You and I are going on a little buddy trip, down to Elizabeth Holcomb’s house, while Mariam gets all pretty for her date.”

Dick fought the urge to roll his eyes at the word ‘date’, eyeing Mary questioningly. She leaned in through the driver window, her hair falling into Mendez’s face. The man sputtered, pushing it aside. 

“I talked to my mother after you left last night. Turns out Parker’s mom has lived in Metropolis ever since the divorce.” She raised her fingers, waggling them into jazz hands, “So off-the-book day trip to the big city for you boys.”

“While you do your hair?” He questioned suspiciously, “How are you planning on doing your questioning on this ‘date’. Kiss and tell?”

Mary nodded earnestly before laughing. Dick bit his tongue to hold onto his fading irritation.  

“I’m just going to do my hair. Because that is what I’m known for.” The sarcasm was laid on thick, and she stuck the tip of her tongue out at him. Mendez blew a breath of relief as she pulled her head out of the car. “I promise I’ll-”

“Fill me in? Yeah, that’s kind of the theme for today, isn’t it?”

Mary crossed her arms. The rain had calmed down to a drizzle, droplets darkening her sleeves. A car honked at her for standing in the parking space, and she huffed, waving them along. The whole parking lot was practically open this early in the morning. 

“Do you trust me?” She pleaded, the words locking him into something he didn’t understand, “Please?”

Tearing his eyes away, he finally noticed Mendez, who looked like he was going to combust from a mixture of curiosity and excitement. Mary blinked at him expectantly again, and he relented. 

“Yes, I trust you.” He didn’t regret the words as her face bloomed with delight. Rolling her eyes at the irate car behind her, she began walking up to the sidewalk.

”But Gordon’s not going to like you two going off the book, especially to a place out of your jurisdiction.”

Mary shrugged, calling back, as she disappeared into the building, “Lawrence will cover for us! Love you two. Give yourselves a smooch on my behalf.” 

Dick felt something wet land on his cheek as Mary completely left his sight. Wiping his face, he looked at Mendez, unsettled. 

“I think that was a hypothetical smooch.”

Mendez muttered something under his breath, the select words of ‘kiss’ and ‘my partner’ coming out a bit stronger, before he revved up the engine. 

“Don’t worry about jurisdiction, cause neither of us is on the clock right now.” 

Dick simply stared at him with no words. That was most certainly not how police work was conducted.

“You pick up a few skills of the trade while being in the FBI. Like how to stretch and bend the system.”

Mendez’s voice was far too confident. No wonder he was Jason’s source; the man clearly had no qualms about breaking the rules. But Mary clearly trusted him with her life, which shouldn’t have been enough for Dick. In fact, Bruce would wring his neck if he could read his mind. 

But the truth was, it was enough for him. Because he trusted Mary wholeheartedly. As Jason had said a week ago, she was “good people”.

Mendez handed him the rest of the peanuts, and Dick held them in his lap in dumb silence. He was used to being blindsided, and Mary just kept doing it to him. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t see the potential in talking to the people surrounding Holcomb.

“We’re going undercover?” Dick raised an eyebrow, fighting the growing excitement. 

“Less undercover, and more of a fake social services check.”

Dick cocked his head. Mendez offered him a toothy grin.

“Is that not the definition of going undercover?”

There was a beat of silence, and Mendez’s smile faltered just the slightest before growing even wider. 

“Maybe. Then we've got at least an hour to think up our fake names."

Chapter Text

June 23rd, 9:00 am

Richard. Come get your girl.

GOTHAM EN ROUTE TO METROPOLIS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 23rd, 8:30 AM

“You two have been holding out on me.”

“Obviously. We’re partners.” Mendez replied, his voice just a touch empathetic, “Not a trio … yet .” 

Dick could feel the car veer onto two wheels as Mendez took a curve. Leaning into the movement, Gotham turned into a blur. Narrowing his eyes, Dick focused particularly hard on the last word in the sentence. 

“What do you mean by that?”

The former agent let go of the wheel for a moment, reaching into Mary’s center console. He did not slow down. Dick shot his hand over, steadying the wheel as Mendez shook a container.

“Gum?”

“Sure.”

Hand’s back on the wheel, Mendez spoke as he chewed, “I’m saying I got a lot of ideas up in here.” He tapped his head, grinning, “Now that I know you aren’t a killer.”

Popping his gum, Dick thought for a moment before replying sarcastically, “Because that makes total sense.” The rain had started to come down again … well, it had started twenty minutes ago, but the driver still hadn’t turned on the wipers. Dick flipped them on. “You do realize I’m a cop.”

“And you do realize I’m not as much of an idiot as I parade around being.” Mendez’s voice was sterner, akin to the way he’d spoken to Mary at Triumph, “I placed a pin in you the second you tried reconnecting with Hayes after the Dysons’ bodies dropped. I don’t chalk things up to coincidence.” 

Dick leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. Looking at it from the outside, he might have accused the same thing. Hanging around the scenes, connections to several aspects of the crime, he could even fit some of the profile. No wonder the man hadn’t trusted him. 

“And I was right. You did have a stake in it.” Mendez switched back to his jolly self as they crossed the bay. The road wasn’t too congested, and they’d likely make it to the neighboring city sooner than expected. “Just wasn’t a nefarious one.”

The implication was heavy. Dick met his gaze with a steely expression, and Mendez shook his head like he was dealing with a child. 

“You know, I met Valeria while on the job. Three siblings just vanish without a trace. We ended up finding them a week later, stashed in some underground bunker. Dead of winter in Maine.” 

Dick tapped his knee, unsure of how long this story would go on for. The last time he’d spoken to Mendez, a whole twenty minutes had been wasted on complaints about dress codes. 

The detective turned down the music for once, “Sent ‘em straight to the nearest hospital, because that cold could kill a grown man, let alone a six-year-old girl.” Mendez physically softened as he recalled the memories, “First nurse on the scene, she comes flying, tying back a big head of curly hair. No questions asked, just crack as she breaks this baby’s ribs to give her a fighting chance. I’m pretty sure the first words I said to her afterward were ‘When do you want the wedding?’”

Mendez’s eyes were brown, a deep, expressive set that managed to reflect everything Dick felt in his own. Sticky-sweet adoration, for a woman so selfless, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for her. Clearing his throat, Dick spat the gum back into the wrapping, the taste suddenly like metal in his mouth. 

“What I’m trying to say is you earned my trust back at the circus.” Mendez slowed slightly at the large “Welcome to Metropolis” sign that stood at the border. “I wasn’t going to have her shatter in that tent. You would’ve let her if that was what she needed and then picked up every single piece and put it together.”

Even if it cut him in the process. 

“That’s something you might not be ready to admit. But in this career, you don’t put yourself on the line for just anyone.” The car was turning away from the city center and into the suburbs, “God knows I wouldn’t. But I’m also pushing 35, so maybe I’ve finally become wiser.”

There was nothing particularly wise or sage about Daniel Mendez. But he was a profiler, and the way he had easily read Dick’s emotions was a wake-up call. 

“I would say you have competition, but you really don’t. Only guy that’s actively flirted with her lately has been Holcomb, which-?” Daniel hissed at the shared memory of the man, “Oh, and Nightwing. But she hates his guts.”

Dick ran a hand over his mouth, coughing into it. He would certainly be bringing that up when he saw her again. 

“He dented her car during her sophomore year of college. Pretty sure, she was on her way to an internship, got stuck in gridlock, and he was thrown into it.” Dick wasn’t pretty sure; he could still feel Ivy’s vines launching him into the blue KIA Soul. His ears had rang for weeks from how she’d lain on the horn. “She never got over it, I guess.”

Mendez laughed, turning the wheel into Elizabeth Holcomb’s neighborhood, “That’s hilarious. She still babies her car. You’re dad’s rich, right? He could easily pay off a car.”

Rich was an understatement. Bruce had offered not only to fix the minimal damage after hearing about what had occurred, but also tried to buy her an entirely new one. Mary had insisted against it so much so that she’d managed to get half the offer dropped.

“He’s Bruce Wayne,” Dick replied monotonously, curious about how the man would react. He seemed down-to-earth enough not to completely lose his mind. 

“No shit, really? Great, so she’ll forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” Dick frowned. Had they hit something during their high-speed drive and gone at such a velocity he hadn’t noticed, “Forgive you for what?”

“For crashing her car”, Mendez replied before sharply turning the wheel, stepping on the gas, and ramming Mary’s car into a parked vehicle on the side street. 

The crunch of metal on metal was followed by the piercing alarm, blasting into his eardrums. Dick widened his eyes, about to grab at the culprit, but Mendez was already out of the car. 

A screen door opened as an older woman stepped out, gaping at the damage. She had the same green eyes as her son. Dick opened the door, coming to stand beside Mendez, who was pretending to check the damage. 

From his vantage point on the street, Dick could see that the home was a complete mess, practically an unaired episode of Hoarders. And directly behind Ms. Holcomb, a much younger woman placed a hand on her shoulder, whispering something sympathetically. Tall, with auburn hair, she brushed her hands on her pantsuit before coming quickly down the steps. 

“You two okay?” There was concern in her gray eyes as she approached them, pouting at the damage, “Aces, that’s a damn shame. Poor Liz.”

Mendez straightened, leaning against the hood of Mary’s car in an effort not to intimidate the woman, “We are so sorry. This is quite literally the worst way this could go.” He waved towards the porch, “This is the Holcomb residence?”

The woman bit her lip distractedly, as if mentally calculating the cost, before shaking her head, “Yes. Sorry, yes, it is.” Wiping her hands once more on her pants, she reached out for a handshake, “Uh, Grace Moroney. I’m just a friend visiting. I can help take down your information if you want to step inside.”

“That would be so lovely, Grace. Again, we’re so sorry.” Mendez shook her hand enthusiastically, “There is one upside to this, thank god. I’m Darnell Smith, and this is my colleague-”

“Todd Drake”, Dick offered an easy smile, sure that whatever he was playing along with would be absolute insanity. Grace nodded, pink dusting her cheeks as she shook his hand as well. 

“We’re with Wayne Enterprises’ new Metropolis social outreach division. This location qualified for our assistance program before this unfortunate accident even took place.” Mendez perkily announced, following the woman up the steps, “It’s nice to meet you. You're a very, very lucky lady, Ms. Holcomb.”

Elizabeth stared up at him, eyes devoid of emotion. She moved jerkily as if every minuscule movement of her muscles wore on her very soul. Shuffling through the door, she said softly, “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

GOTHAM CITY - SERENITY SALON

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23rd, 8:30 AM

The heat of the curling iron stung persistently at her neck as the stylist wound lock after lock over the wand. Mary stared at the clock, counting down the minutes, heel tapping impatiently. 

“Hot date?” Her stylist asked, eyes crinkling, “Can’t remember the last time we’ve done your hair differently.”

Mary rolled her eyes, turning to peer at the entrance again. Distractedly, she muttered, “More like a work event.”

“Babe, you work too much. But if it keeps you in my chair, I’m not complaining.” 

The door opened with a jingle, and she hesitated for a moment before Mary waved her on. As she walked away to greet the customer, a tall brunette with tired eyes, Mary replayed the information she had. 

There were officially thirty minutes on the clock to make this perfect. 

She and Mendez had spent every second they should have been sleeping working to ensure it would be. 

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

LAST NIGHT - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 8:45 PM

It hadn’t been five minutes since Dick had left, and Mary was already slipping on her shoes. Hopping on one foot, she reached for her keys, the tiny batarang on them clinking as she threw them into her bag. 

It had either hit the energy drink she’d also thrown in there or her tablet. She was hoping the sharp edge had been chucked at the former for her electronics’ sake.

Walking quickly to her car, she locked the doors immediately out of habit and started the short drive to the station. Whatever conversation Mendez and Dick had had while she was asleep had been enough to convince Mendez to bring him into the fold. 

She sent out a prayer of thanks for Grayson’s charm. 

Running a hand over her face, Mary pushed down the guilt in her chest. As wrong as it felt to leave Dick out, it would be worse to drag him into another brainstorming session. She’d slept and he hadn’t. He wouldn’t be happy with her, but Mary was willing to take the chance of keeping him in the dark for his health’s sake. 

That and the fact that she was certain she wouldn’t be able to think straight with him around now. She needed to focus, not act like a love-sick teen. 

Parking the car, Mary launched herself out, jogging up the steps. All it took was a quick swipe of her badge, and she was walking into the mostly empty station. With no fear that Lawrence would be there that late, Mendez had arrived in his pajamas, sitting on his desk. A large thermos of coffee was beside him, prepared to keep him awake while they went through the details they’d kept between one another. 

“Your interview with the twins wasn’t ‘standard kids stuff’, was it?” Mary asked as she dropped her bag on her chair, accepting a marker from him. 

“You wish.” Daniel retorted, twisting his back with a loud pop, “You know what I’ve noticed about kiddos who use honorifics around adults?”

Mary capped the expo marker in her hands, finished writing the names on the board he’d dragged in from the conference rooms. A patrol officer on night shift, passing to refill his mug, gave them a strange look. Mendez waved as Mary threw the marker at him to continue.

Catching it smoothly, her partner clicked the cap open and shut, “The circus is a carefree environment. Those girls are overly polite. Walking on eggshells type of polite, but only about Holcomb.” Daniel twiddled his fingers in thought as Mary logged into her computer, pulling into the precinct’s database. “Mr. Holcomb this and Mr. Holcomb that. But you know what they call the big boss?”

“Louis?”

“Exactly!”

Mary shrugged off her cardigan, fingers itching to text Dick right away. But it was her turn to look out for him after basically placing all her emotional burden onto him. He hadn’t complained, but that didn’t make it right. 

“Is it respect? I’m assuming child performers get hurt quite often. He’s a caretaker for them, so maybe they feel it’s necessary to be more formal.”

Daniel leaned back on his hands, the moonlight glinting in from the window and bouncing off his thermos, “Half correct. In a tight-knit community, a title like that is less respect and more isolation.” A finger pointed at her, turning in a slow circle, “They’re kids, they don’t understand why doing that is an act of rebellion. But it works because it doesn’t get them in trouble.”

Mary thought through what he was laying out for her. Combing through memories, she swore she’d read something very similar. She grabbed back the marker, writing out her thoughts on the board.

“When you went back to school, you did some research on cognitive linguistics of children, didn’t you?” Turning back, she typed rapidly on the computer, pulling up the article, “There was a pattern you noticed in children whose parents had remarried. That using first names isolated the new parental figure.” Scanning over the document, she read softly aloud to herself. “‘We postulate these actions may be a means of exerting control. A form of social isolation in the home’”.

“You picking up what I’m putting down.”

“Say the quiet part out loud. I don’t want to sound silly if I’m wrong.”

Mendez hopped off the table, using the marker to draw a thick line between Holcomb and the twins, and then drew in one more name on the board connecting them all.

“Amanda Parrott. With a little needling and a lot of yapping about Bluey, I got the girls to talk about their mother … and her relationship with Mr. Holcomb. He’s not a very nice guy to mommy dearest.”

Mary raised her eyebrows in question to her partner, and he responded with his own bushy pair. They could use this, and if they did it well …

“He cheats and beats up mommy. The girls shut down and become overly formal to him to isolate him from the incredibly laid-back circus environment.” Daniel grinned as he wrote down another name on the board slowly. “And I know just the person with a reason to talk to Amanda about the two-timing scumbag.”

M-A-R-I-A-M 

H-A-Y-E-S

“You want me to interview her?” Mary rubbed at her temples. “Metaphorically hold me over the divider of Gotham Bay again?”

How the hell was she supposed to find this woman, let alone get her to talk to her? If Amanda did know about her existence, it wasn’t in any good capacity, considering that she was supposed to go on a date with her scummy boyfriend in less than 12 hours. 

“You’ve got the skills to.”

She’d be lying if that didn’t stroke her ego a bit. It wasn’t often she got to do interviews outside, beyond the tables and two-way glass. And she was good at it. 

“I wonder how Amanda would feel if she found out he was going out with me? Maybe mad enough to throw him under the bus.” Pulling out her phone, she slid down to the unopened messages from her mother, “Actually, I wonder what all the women in Holcomb’s life think about him.”

All it took was one piece of incriminating evidence to get the man on the other side of the table. Preferably one that wasn’t at her favorite Vietnamese place, and instead part of an expressway ticket to a prison cell. 

METROPOLIS SUBURBS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 23ND, 9:15 AM

Holding the door open for Grace, Dick received a breathy 'thank you'. He nodded, molding his face into his favorite expression. The one that got him everything he needed. 

“Nowelsland?”

“Hmm.” Grace turned after she locked the door, stepping over a box to get into the living room. 

“Your accents. They’re familiar.”

The woman responded with a shocked giggle, “Never met anyone who called a Nowelsland accent familiar. We aren’t even on any maps, last I checked.”

Dick nodded, taking a seat on the stained sofa. His face never wavered, trained enough to hide any negative emotion coursing through his body. The couch looked like it was a generational home for bed bugs, and just the thought made a shiver run up his spine. 

“My-”

“His girlfriends from Nowelsland.” Mendez interrupted, accepting a sad-looking slice of cake from the older woman with gratitude. The action slightly cracked Ms. Holcomb’s dejected exterior. 

“You’re kidding. Really?” Grace lit up, leaning in on the creaky stool, “Who? We’re bound to know her.”

Dick took a large bite of the cake presented to him. The frosting had gone bad, but he forced it down, “This is delicious.” He got a small smile in return. Another baby step to talking. “Uh, Mary Hayes?”

He debated mentioning that Mary wasn't his girlfriend, but it just wasn't pertinent at the moment. He could pretend. 

The redhead scoffed, turning to exchange a look with Elizabeth, “Mariam Hayes? Now you’re pulling my leg.” 

“She was a terror of a child,” Elizabeth whispered, wringing her hands in her lap. 

“Mellowed out after Kris died”, Grace waved a hand dismissively, her face darkening for a moment, “We’re second cousins if you’ll believe it. How’s she doin’? I keep hearing she’s too busy playing detective to call.” 

“She’s overworked.” Dick ran a hand through his hair. They were all overworked. Straight down to the bone. “We’ve got a serial killer up in Jersey.”

The redhead’s face blanched, but Elizabeth’s went bone white. She knew something, something that was weighing heavily on her. The question was, how much of it was tied to the case and her son. 

Mendez side-eyed him, tapping one finger in the direction of the restrooms, thankfully connected to the bedroom. The older man could handle breaking down the woman’s walls. It was what he did for a living. 

And suddenly it became very clear what he was here to do. 

He could hear Mary’s voice in his mind, insisting to Mendez that he was their guy. She’d probably had her hands on her hips, eyes squinting as she declared something along the lines of, “If you want someone to go through Elizabeth’s things quickly and without a trace, Grayson's your guy.”

He swallowed, tapping his foot. Dick knew she’d done it in a way that made it seem like he was a pickpocket as a kid or a circus delinquent of some sort. Mary was good at that sort of thing, keeping his real identity under wraps even if the cover stories she made were slightly unflattering. 

It wouldn’t be her if she didn’t take the chance to humor herself at his expense. And it wouldn’t be him if he wasn’t already thinking of ways to get back at her. After he helped her look through an old woman’s things, of course. 

Flashing a grin, he stood, “Would you point me in the direction of the bathroom?”

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

LAST NIGHT - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 9:30 PM

“You’re telling me your mom will know if Ms. Holcomb knows something?” Mendez had asked, unconvinced. 

Mary didn’t want to waste time explaining the small town gossip train to a man from one of the most populated cities in the country. Mendez has likely grown up not knowing everyone on his block; he’d never understand the simultaneous loyalty and backstabbing the women of Nowelsland were known for. 

Mary hummed dismissively as the phone rang. Daniel leaned back, feet dangling off the edge of his desk in defeat. 

Emily Hayes always had lunch once a week with Olive Atilla and Sherrie Moroney. Respectively, the town gossip and Ms. Holcombs’s best friend. And if that grapevine of information had made its way down to her mother, then …

“He’s sampling too young from the tree, Mariam”, her mother said over the line, clattering in the kitchen, as she answered Mary’s questions. She could hear her poor father being shushed on the other end. 

“Hey, Baby”, came the affectionate greeting as he managed to wrangle the phone for a brief moment.

“Hi, Dad. How you been?”

“Not the best, I’ll say that. Came back from visiting Ben, he isn’t doing well.”

Her mother’s sharp, relentless voice returned as she snagged the phone back, “Benjamin Atilla hasn’t been doing well for fifteen years. Now hush, I’m helping Mary with a case.” 

The last part was said so proudly, Mary almost laughed. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she took the phone to the breakroom, pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

“You can put me on speaker, Mama. Have Daddy show you.”

It took a minute, but finally the conversation veered back to the Holcombs.

“That’s all I’ve been hearing. He’s killing his mother with whatever vice he’s fallen captive to. Elizabeth’s been sick from it.” There was a pause before she continued, switching to a lecturing tone, “That’s what happens. Your wrongdoings go to your parents. You really ought to call more Mariam, it’s not-.”

“I will, Mama, I promise.” Peering to the side, she caught Mendez asleep on the desk, “I’ve got to go to my partner calling me.” 

With that, she’d hung up the phone. Poking Mendez with a pen, he woke up with a start, grabbing her wrist. 

As he slowly let go, sitting up while rubbing at his eyes, Mary hopped up onto her own desk, whistling. 

“You want to go on a field trip to Metropolis tomorrow?”

METROPOLIS SUBURBS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 23ND, 9:30 PM

The hallway that led to Elizabeth Holcombs’s restroom was partially obscured by an unfortunately placed grandfather clock. Moving between the clock and the stack of filled boxes adjacent to it, Dick virtually slipped from everyone’s eyesight. 

No one from the living room would be able to track whether he took a right to the restroom or a left to the woman’s bedroom. Turning on the faucet masked any possible doubt from the other room. He stepped slowly on the hardwood, silent despite the old flooring of the home.

The bedroom was surprisingly clean, recently tidied compared to the rest of the home. A new quilt was laid across the bed, curtains fluttering from the open window. Dick stood in the doorway, eyes darting across the entire space. 

Photos were littered across the dresser, of a more alive-looking Elizabeth with Parker Holcomb throughout his life. None of them were recent, stopping suddenly when the man reached his midteens. 

Mary would have something to say about that. A witty quip about how the divorce likely put a strain on his parental relationships. By his teens, Holcomb distanced himself from his mother, who had full custody. It might have even built some resentment against women in him. 

Resentment deep-seated enough to do the bidding of someone else? To kill under someone’s command just to live out some sick fantasies?

Mary would certainly have some thoughts about it. And some psychological jargon, sprinkled with a few profiler-specific phrases. But Mary wouldn’t have caught the jewelry box on Elizabeth Holcomb’s stand as quickly as Dick did. 

Maybe not at all. 

He loved her with everything in him; Dick adored her. But her heightened perception was limited to people. She wasn’t a Bat or a traditional detective, which meant she tended to gloss over anything that wasn’t behavior-based. 

One step after another, Dick came to kneel next to the box. It was locked tightly. But right next to it was a pair of earrings. 

Diamond. 

Small, the cheapest ones from a Costco jewelry counter. But for a woman living below her means, Elizabeth didn’t seem the type to just leave something like that out. 

Breathing shallowly, Dicks line of sight dropped to where the flooring was slightly uneven. A light push against the wood lifted one end up, revealing the matching key to the box and a note. 

Flowery thanks and false promises from Parker in harsh, dark handwriting. 

“Mama, thank you for doing what you must.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick cussed the man out in his mind. The key opened the box with a soft click, revealing not expensive jewelry to be kept safe, but trash scraps and broken costume jewelry. 

A novice’s attempt to hide something they shouldn’t have. 

Pushing aside the trash, Dicks hand hit something metal. Another key. Dark brass, incredibly deep notches, a proper house key. 

A proper Gotham house key. 

No other cities fitted their apartments with specially designed reinforced doors. If he reached into Mary’s pocket at any given time, her keys would have been the same. Made to fit into those special GC Silversmith Doors, which didn’t really do much in a real crisis, but reassured the general public. 

What would a little old lady in Metropolis need a key like that for?

Nothing. 

But a mother desperate for her son’s love would be willing to do anything to win his affection. Including hiding evidence for him. 

Including going against her own morals, setting aside her own peace of mind for him. 

God, he was starting to sound like her. Mary was going to be so excited to see that key. 

Especially since Dick knew the exact building it belonged to. 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

LAST NIGHT - MARY

JUNE 22ND, 11:00 PM

“I’m afraid to ask who gave you my number.” Barbara Gordon’s voice suspiciously asked on the other end, “Because I don’t want that to become a new habit of Dick’s.”

Mary clicked her keys, locking her car as she climbed the steps back to her apartment. “It’s worse.”

“Oh, don’t say that.” The woman groaned, the sound of her furiously typing cutting through Mary’s now silent living room, “These bats, I swear. Hold on one moment … Okay, I’m back. What’s the story on how you got my cell?”

“Your dad. I told him I wanted to make some new friends in the city.”

There was a shrieking laugh on the other end, before the sharp slap of someone’s mouth being covered. Mary chuckled as she locked the door. 

“You two need to go back on patrol. There’s no reason for you to be here right now.” Barbara’s voice was sharp, the commanding quality reminiscent of her father’s when he barked orders in the bullpen. Attention turned back to Mary; the loud typing came back full force. “You’re bold. You do realize that’s your boss, right?” 

“Well aware.” Mary slipped off her shoes, falling onto the couch. It felt so much emptier without Dick taking up most of the space, “Desperate times. Had to swallow my pride on that one.”

More clacking as the line grew silent again, “Give me one second. Damian’s getting on my nerves tonight, shutting off his comm. Which, now that I think about it, might not be a bad idea to give you one of those tomorrow.”

“Oh, there’s no need-”

“I already sent B a message. No take-backs.” 

Pulling the blanket over her head, she could pretend like she was 8, whispering with a friend over the phone. Like she had no responsibilities or lives at stake. The fantasy lasted only a second before she was shoving the blanket off again, standing with the phone pressed to her ear. 

“I know I’m not your usual team-up but can I ask a favor?” 

Emptying her bag, Mary threw the energy drink in the trash, grabbing the cold brew from the fridge. It wasn’t like her to be nervous, but something about speaking to The Oracle made her hands sweat. 

“Shoot.” 

“Two favors?”

“Don’t push your luck.” The teasing was cut off by Barbara swearing, ending the call before ringing her phone again, “Seriously, what do you need? I can probably make it happen.”

“I need any information you can get on someone named Amanda Parrott. Preferably, her current location and daily routines.” Sipping from her cup, she hesitated before adding the second part, “And I need you to change Dicks schedule or PTO to have him off tomorrow. I don’t want him to lose his job.”

“Done and done.” 

Mary paused, choking on her drink at the speed the requests were filled. She knew vigilantes were fast; they had to be, but it was still whiplash for someone who was used to waiting days for technical department reports. 

Barbara’s voice was light as she confessed, “And I doubt he’d care if he lost that job. He pretends like he likes it, but I’m not convinced.” 

Well she wasn’t going to be the reason he lost it either way, Mary vowed, setting down the cup to twirl her stylus in her hands, “And Parrott?”

“She works for a big tech company in IT. Work from home more like work from everywhere, since she’s been traveling with her acrobat kids since they were five. Looks like she’s also the wizard behind the technological extravaganza that is Triumph.”

Mary bit her lip before forcing herself to stop. They’d be destroyed by the end of the week if she kept doing so. “Is she good enough to wipe film?”

“Give me a sec to go through more of her stuff.” There was a huff from the other end and then a laugh as the woman found what she needed, “Oh yeah. Especially if coerced, considering that she has a bad habit of dating bad men.”

Mary hummed to herself, looking out the kitchen window. Her eyes kept darting to the empty sill, a soft voice in her head asking, “No lilacs?” 

Shaking her head, she forced Dick out of it. He was becoming a distraction. 

“Any chance you’d be-?”

“Yes, I can. Just for you, Hayes.” 

Mary narrowed her eyes as shots rang out a few streets from her. A wail of a siren followed a moment later. A disturbingly usual backdrop to her life since she was eighteen. 

Barbara spoke quickly with growing interest as she continued, “She’s from Gotham and stays here with her kids during off-season. And it looks like she goes to Serenity Salon each time she’s back in town, and oh dear, I’m in their reservation system right now, silly me. Well, when in Rome, might as well check when she has her next appointment, and it’s wow tomorrow!”

Mary licked her lips, running a hand through her hair. It snagged slightly against her fingers. She was overdue for an appointment herself anyways. Sure, it was last-minute, but she basically paid for her stylist’s mortgage with how loyal she was. Jenny would be able to squeeze Mary in for a wash and style. 

“Well, that’s just perfect. I owe you big time, Barbara.”

“Going out to brunch with someone my own age will be enough of a repayment. Just pay for the bottomless mimosas and listen while I complain about my employees.” Came the tired response back before the woman added sharply, “Yes, I’m talking about all of you. You are the worst coworkers ever. Yes, Tim, that especially includes you.”

GOTHAM CITY - SERENITY SALON

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23rd, 9:00 AM

Amanda Parrott was a complainer. 

Water for her rinse? Too cold. 

The complimentary bottle of water? Not cold enough. 

Stylist? Incompetent. 

It was a way to establish control. To take some power back in her life after man after man had stripped her of any other form of confidence. 

Mary fluffed the fresh curls on her head as her stylist held up the mirror. From the reflective surface, she could see how Amanda kept pulling her sleeves down. Long sleeves in the middle of one of the hottest summers they’d had in a decade. 

It didn’t do much to hide the bruises on her wrist where someone had grabbed her harshly. It seemed that Parker Holcomb had developed an explosive temper since leaving Nowelsland and growing up. 

“Thank you, Jenny”, Mary gushed, allowing the blonde locks to fall over her shoulders, bouncing with the movement, “You’ve done it again.”

Peering through her blunt, dark bangs, the stylist offered a sheepish smile, squeezing her shoulder, “Anything for you.”

Mary nodded distractedly, watching Amanda pack up her things, throwing in a few bucks harshly into the tip jar. And then she was out the door. 

Damn … she was fast. 

“Hey, can you charge that to my account? I’m really running late!”

Mary cringed as she stood, pulling her bag up with her as she walked quickly out of the salon, heels clicking. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped out in the gloomy day, following Amanda down the street where she was paying her parking toll.

“Excuse me. I need to talk to you.” Amanda didn’t turn around, reaching to open her car door. Mary scrunched her nose, reaching for the small case in her bag. The comm slipped into her ear easily. “ I’m talking to you .”

Her sharp command cut through the side street, and Amanda froze at a raised tone before turning with a scowl. 

“What?”

“Amanda, right? I’m Mar-”

“Mariam Hayes. Yeah, I know who you are.” She looked at her with cold, dark eyes, like Mary had ruined her life. Considering that she probably thought Mary was a homewrecker, she had every right to, “Stay out of my life, you-”

Amanda ran on anger and spite. It wasn’t uncommon with the situation she had found herself in. Mary blinked once before narrowing her eyes, running through a mental catalog of ways the conversation could go. The best words to get her to snap, slip up, and say something about her boyfriend she’d regret. 

“So he does talk about me?” Mary cut her off airily, looking up through her lashes. 

The woman’s face turned red, and she took a step forward with raised eyebrows. Mary offered a small, innocent smile, stepping back. The movement put them right in the sightline of Gotham Central Bank’s security system. 

If someone had access to all the cameras in the city, they’d be able to gather the film from this conversation. And if this comm worked the way Mary thought it did well then …

She’d have both a visual and an audio recording of Amanda Parrott voicing incriminating information about her boyfriend.

Chapter Text

June 23rd, 12:00 PM

Looking forward to seeing you tonight …

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM BRIDGE

FRESHMAN YEAR - DICK

DECEMBER 15th, 10:30 PM

Snowflakes fell on the flowing water of Gotham River, disappearing instantly. The wind was howling, a screaming, eerie sound that clashed against the unusual silence. Dick shoved his hands in his pockets as footsteps crunched behind him. 

“You planning on taking a swim?”

The words were dry, slightly breathless from the biting cold. It vowed to slice through any person insane enough to be outside at the moment. Reaching a hand down, Dick helped haul Mary up onto the stone parapet of the bridge. Her boots slid slightly before finding her footing, arms crossed over her chest, pulling her puffer closer. 

“I’m just thinking.”

Dick took a shuddering breath, watching the turning water as the silence settled between them. Mary was shivering, but she didn’t move, patiently waiting to hear why he’d called her. 

“I don’t think those suicides we keep hearing on the news are legit. I can’t bring it up to B. without sounding like a conspiracy theorist.” 

Everything he said these days seemed to ignite opposition between him and Bruce. Agreement was a far-off memory, as somewhere in the past year, they’d fallen off kilter. With each passing day, he was craving space and the ability to make decisions without someone breathing down his neck.

But this was still the Bat’s city, and he couldn’t just call random shots without reason. 

“And you called me because you want my opinion?” Mary kept her voice low and even. In the time he’d known her, she’d never been anything except infuriatingly logical. 

A car whizzed past, and he reached over to steady her, “You want to be a profiler? Now’s your chance to practice.”

A comfortable silence returned. He could see the snow collecting in her hair and scarf as she thought. Her eyes always narrowed when she did so, as if her vision was a camera lens restricting its scope. 

“I’ll tell you what. Even if I were battling suicidal ideation, I wouldn’t be throwing myself into that river. Hypothermia is a slow, nasty way to go, and the jump from here isn’t going to kill you instantly.” 

Mary gingerly reached down with one foot to step off the parapet as she spoke, planting her feet before nodding for him to follow. Walking side by side off the bridge, he could feel the heat radiating off her. 

“Statistically, men are more likely to die by suicide because they gravitate towards more lethal methods. I won’t go into the psycho-social reasons for that now, but …” Mary moved her hands in a so-so motion, “Yeah, it doesn’t make sense that what like … four men have died the same way in the span of a couple weeks.”

“You think I’m right?” Dick turned his head quickly, voice a little too hopeful. 

“I don’t know how much my opinion is worth, but yes. I don’t think it would do any harm to investigate.”

Mary’s dorm was only a couple of blocks away, and he followed her rapid steps down the street. Dick flashed her an enthusiastic smile that she returned with her own tight-lipped one, “I appreciate your opinion. I’m sure you’ll be one hell of a profiler. FBI, right?”

Mary hummed a no, shaking some of the snow from her scarf, “I want to stay in Gotham. Harold Lawrence’s modified VICAP interviews with Arkham residents are analytical gold. International profilers are building off his observations. It’ll be a long way to go, but if I tough it out for a few years …”

“You wanna be in a room with the Joker?” Dick questioned, arms crossed over his chest. Even the idea of it gave him chills. 

“We give him too much credit.” Mary treated the lunatic like he was a nuisance. “I’d like to eventually be on the GCPD team that does routine interviews for all of Arkham. I like writing papers and controlled analysis. It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, sounds like Harley Quinn.”

Mary raised her eyebrows, not dignifying him with a response. She paused to rub her eyes tiredly, checking the time on her phone. 

Dick reached over to pull the hood of her jacket over her already damp hair, “What makes you want to do this anyway?”

What sort of eighteen-year-old sat down and genuinely signed up for a life like that? Especially in a city like Gotham, of all places?

“What makes you want to don a brightly colored costume and run around the city with a man in a bat costume?” Mary postulated her own question, words slightly tinged with humor. 

“Parents died.”

Short and simple. Clipped to avoid her asking any other questions. Mary got the hint, sniffing as she thought of how to reply. 

“My neighbor was killed when I was a kid. Didn’t really affect me much, but I interacted a little with the FBI that showed up.”

Short, simple, clipped. Dick honestly couldn’t tell if she was mimicking him or purposely leaving things out. Her body language didn’t change much, giving him little to go on. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t really close to her. But it was the first time I saw death and profiling.” The spark in her eyes from minutes ago was gone, replaced by cold gray stone. 

Purposfully unreadable. 

She didn’t turn around when she made her way up the steps of the building, “I hope you’re able to convince Bruce. You’re going to make one hell of a hero someday.”

Dick stood on the empty street, watching her unlock the door. “I’m already a hero.”

Mary paused, holding the door open. The action sent a gust of snow into the lobby, and she cursed. Glancing back one more time she sighed. 

“Not your own yet.”

METROPOLIS SUBURBS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 23ND, 10:00 AM

“So Mariam?” Grace leaned against the porch railing, the wind tangling her hair, “I don’t mean to pry, but …”

Dick scratched his neck, looking down at where Mendez was confirming he hadn’t done too much damage to the car. There was a deep dent in the front, but nothing that would stop them from getting back home to Gotham. Dick had driven his own smashed bike countless times, so unless Mary’s car started smoking, they’d be okay. 

“We’re new. Very new.” The statement was both a lie and the truth. Mary’s presence in his life was like well-worn leather. Molded to him over time. 

But she wasn’t his. They weren’t anything. And a devolving killer was making it slightly unethical to pursue even the idea of being something. 

“Do you mind keeping quiet for now? Please.”

Grace hesitated before absolutely melting at his attention on her, “Of course … I mean, she’s just difficult?”

Her voice lilted slightly upward as if she were uncertain of what she was allowed to say. Face reddening, she elaborated, “That’s what her ex-boyfriend says. No bad blood, of course, but she’s notorious for not making time for people. She changed a lot after …”

Dick looked at her expectantly, and Grace interestingly glanced around to make sure Elizabeth wasn’t in earshot before continuing, “Does she ever talk about home?”

“Very little.”

Another lie. Mary rambled about her hometown often.

Stepping a bit closer, she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “My best friend Kristy was murdered when we were all little. Everyone knows the only reason they found her body was ‘cause the FBI coerced Mary’s parents. Practically knocked their door down in the middle of the night and forced her into some fancy, invasive interview.”

Dick bit his lips. It was difficult to know how much of what was said was small-town gossip and what was the truth. That was locked up inside Mary, only revealed in bits and pieces. And those bits and pieces only came out when she was at her worst. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Grace shrugged, “It was a long time ago. She used to be the most annoying kid in town. Kristy would always say she was a disaster waiting to happen.” The redhead’s voice thickened whenever she mentioned her friend. Time hadn’t dampened the loss. “Kris died, and Mariam got way too affected. But maybe it was for the best. She wouldn’t be where she is otherwise.”

Dick could barely imagine Mary as a kid. She seemed the type to be born an adult, all tight-laced and high-strung. Order was a part of who she was …

Until she giggled and a light spilled right out of her. Or when she rambled about a case and her eyes sparkled like diamonds, hands wildly explaining something only she understood. Those little moments around him, where the act dropped. When she went along with the bit and made him feel like he was special. Like he was the only one who got to see beyond her facade.

“I always think I’ve got the balancing act down until someone decides to look behind the curtain.”

“Poetic”

“Only around you. You just had to go and tear down the curtain.”

In an instant, a feeling he couldn’t crack for almost a decade split open, allowing him to fall into the mind of an 18-year-old Mary. The one who pried and managed to get past all his defenses. He understood now why she did it. 

It was almost impossible not to when her inner world had mirrored his. 

“She’s incredible.”

Grace watched him from the corner of her eye, frowning slightly before saying, “Yeah … she was the first to leave. Only a handful of young people who remembered Kristy stayed. I don’t think the rest of us could bear it.” She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers snagged, “Except Parker, of course.”

Dick perked up, pushing himself up against the wooden rail with his elbows, urging her to continue with a quizzical “Hmm?”

Grace looked at him warily, and he elaborated, “Mary’s mentioned him. I recongize the name.” Flashing her a smile, he tilted his head slightly, “We aren’t leaving for maybe another ten minutes. Go on, I like hearing you talk.”

Pressing a hand to her chest, her face blooming a bright red, Grace managed to sputter out a disbelieving, ‘Really?’ Her eyes were the same shade as Mary’s, the only link proving they were in some way distantly related. Nothing else about her matched the girl back in Gotham. 

“Parker’s Ms. Holcomb’s son. His parents divorced after Kris died. I might be remembering correctly, but I think Sheriff Holcomb was one of the people who convinced Kristy’s parents not to testify, and Elizabeth lost her mind.” Grace’s face scrunched as she tried to recall the information, “I always thought it was funny that Mary testified, considering that her daddy was Ben Atilla’s best friend. But … Mr. Hayes always had a strong sense of morality, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he made her do it.” 

Dick swallowed the ache in his chest, lowering his eyes to the splintered wood of the porch. The pieces were fitting together, slightly askew but clearer than the nothing he’d had a few minutes before. Mendez climbed up the last step, loosening his tie as he easily joined the conversation. 

“Why convince the Atillas not to testify for their own daughter?” Daniel practically oozed calm, brown eyes narrowing in a way that opposed Mary’s usual quirk. It was kind and reassuring. 

Damn, he was good. 

“Loyalty. At the end of the day, Goode was one of ours. And he had been an excellent doctor and had experienced a tragedy. So the least we could do was offer him the chance of a lesser sentence.” Grace didn’t sound convinced, teetering between understanding the logic and hatred for someone who had taken her friend, “I think they ended up regretting it, especially now that he’s served his sentence and is on parole.”

Taking a deep breath, she wiped her hands on her pants again, “That’s a long-winded way of saying Parker left Nowelsland young. He only started visiting again about a year ago, and I check on his Mama like this from time to time.”

“You live in the area?” Dick questioned, mind racing, trying to piece together the rambling.

“I’ve got a place in the city. I work for LexCorp in IT. It pays pretty well.” Grace straightened proudly. She had every right to preen. Saying Luthor was downright criminal was an understatement, but his company only hired the best of the best.

“It’s really nice of you to visit his mom. I bet the divorce was hard on him; no wonder he wants to move back home.” Mendez said softly, exchanging a glance with Dick.

Grace blinked for a moment before exclaiming sharply, “Oh no, trust me, he’s a city boy! He never wanted to move home.” Dick frowned, and she continued, “He almost died a year ago when he visited. Something about being snowed in and a renovation project with his dad. It was bad enough that they asked Dr. Goode to help. I don’t know the full story, but he says it’s now his ‘chosen path’. I’m not spiritual, so I don’t think I understand.” 

Mendez nodded slowly, “Yeah, I bet that loyalty to home runs deep, huh. We Gothamites wouldn’t know anything about that.” Raising the corners of his mouth into a downright soothing smile, he questioned, “How deep does that loyalty go?”

Grace’s eyes darted nervously, the inquiry causing her to shift feet slightly, “Aces, I don’t know … pretty deep? Enough to lessen murder, I suppose.” Her head darted up as Elizabeth called her from the home, offering an apologetic smile. She nodded, “Well, it was nice talking with you both. Give your regards to Mariam for me, would ya, Todd.”

Dick nodded, “Of course.”

Mendez elbowed him in the side, and he coughed slightly, “And we’ll get that check from Wayne Enterprises sent to you as soon as possible.”

GOTHAM CITY - WATCHTOWER

PRESENT DAY - BARBARA

JUNE 23rd, 9:10 AM

“That was a left Signal, I said right”, Barbara lamented as she rubbed her temples, watching the teen backtrack down into the right alleyway. 

Duke chuckled, “Give me a break, Oracle. I’ve had deadline after deadline this week. The world’s conspiring against me.”

Barbara adjusted her glasses, about to snark back when there was the distinct crackling of a new line being added. The first voice on the comm was calm, so collected it was almost condescending. The other was rash, raw with anger, and ready to snap like taut elastic. 

Clicking her tongue, she slid over, tracing the location of the comm to the nearest available camera. Luckily, the Gotham Central Bank had shoddy security measures, making its system easy to break. 

“Hey, Oracle, you still there …?”

Barbara didn’t reply, statue still as she watched a figure deliberately step into the camera’s scope of view. 

Oh, that was ingenious. 

“I’ll take the silence as a yes. Do you know what he sees in me over you?” Enhancing the footage, Mary could be seen, stone cold, barely blinking as a beet red face closed in on her, “Because I do.”

“You’re awfully bold for a home wrecker.” Amanda rolled her eyes, “What did he tell you, that he’s some sort of medical student now? He’s a liar, kid.”

Mary shrugged, “You’re going to avoid the question. That’s fine, I’ll answer it myself. Holcomb keeps you around because he sees you as easy. Why work for something you have full control over? A successful, spitfire childhood flame. Now that’s a fun chase, especially since you’ll be waiting either way.”

Mary was good at towing the line between ditzy and far too close to home. It made the words even more cutting, Barbara thought, when one didn’t know if she was being genuine or not. 

Amanda clearly felt it, taking a shuddering breath before she spat, “Keep the freshman psychology to yourself. He likes you because you’re young. What are you, barely 20?”

Mary tucked a hair behind her ear, lips quirking just the slightest, “You really think I can pass for that young? Is 25 too old for him? Clearly, early 30s is the way he keeps tossing you aside.”

“You need to tune it down before I treat you like that mouthy teenager that idiot brought into my house. Whatever he does, I don’t care. Just leave me out of it.”

Resignation was woven within Parrott’s voice. The relationship was presented as long dead. Something she cared nothing about, but didn’t have the strength to leave. Parker’s actions weren’t making it any better. 

“Gosh, so we both are too old. I must really be riding on that childhood crush thing.”

Amanda Parrott clenched a fist, and the blonde took a step back, raising a hand, “Ah, ah, ah. Not the face. I’ve got a date with your boyfriend tonight.” Quickly putting the other arm up too, Mary cautioned, “And pink is so hard to get stains out of. Almost as hard as the charges for assaulting an officer.”

There was a beat of silence before the taller woman made a guttural noise, glaring Mary down with pure hatred. Dropping the carefree expression from her face, not a single feature on Mary’s face twitched. Every calculated choice was laced in her voice, carrying the show for her. 

“Your girls are cute, Amanda. Your parents get custody if anything happens, right? And neither of us wants them to go there. But rest assured, I can make that happen if I need to.” Balancing on one heel to the other, Mary jutted her chin, “So why don’t we have a chat?”

“Just leave me alone.” Came the seething reply. “You don’t know anything.”

Mary paused, eyes slitted, hands still protectively raised, lowered only slightly to her chest. Barbara felt like she was watching a loading screen as the silence extended until Mary tilted her head almost imperceptibly. 

“I know you grew up neglected. Your lack of emotional regulation, low self-esteem, and the way you cling to self-destructive relationships prove it.” Mary’s hands came to rest slowly, and she shifted her weight to one hip, “You hide the bruises but not too much because at least it’s not the emotional abuse you grew up with, right? At least Parker cares enough to express something.” 

Amanda looked down at her wrist, where the mottling of yellow and purple was peeking through. Her eyes were heavy, but even through the screen, Barbara could see the burning blaze in them. 

Pulling up everything she could on the woman, there were no red flags for Parrott’s parents. On paper, her childhood seemed like picture-perfect suburbia. Hayes seemed to be able to fill in the cracks just by looking at her. 

“What the hell are you?”

“Your personal point of no return.” Mary sighed, as if she were bored with the back and forth. Leaning forward, she spoke lowly, flashing her badge. “The GCPD is following a tip that Parker Holcomb had relations with a now-deceased seventeen-year-old girl. At the very least, he’ll be charged with a felony for his conduct, but if we find evidence connecting him to Kate Dyson’s death …” 

Barbara bit her lip as she zoomed the footage in on Amanda’s face as the news broke. The recognition of Kate’s name was apparent. It didn’t take a profiler to see that Amanda was practically confirming that Holcomb had some contact with Kate. 

“You have two choices: cooperate, and I will get you immunity for any incriminating evidence. Or you take the risk of going down with him.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Ms. Parrott, you’ve practically served on a silver platter the words I’ll use when requesting a welfare check of your home. Gotham’s social services don’t take very kindly to children living with the type of boyfriend you have.” 

Amanda faltered, “You have no proof of this conversation, and you cornered me. I’m free to leave. What could you do about it?” 

“Nothing. I’m on my day off. But I’m pretty sure Oracle never sleeps, and this city is quite literally littered with cameras.” Mary waved her fingers towards the nearest one, and Barbrba grinned, moving it slightly back and forth, “Vigilantes don’t have to follow the same rules as I do. She can do whatever she wants with that footage.”

Amanda paled watching the moving camera. She stood frozen as if replaying the conversation in her head while avoiding Mary’s eyes.

Mary shook her head, softening her tone, “It’s in your best interest to listen. The little I can see of your arm is practically a mosaic of color, but both Brooke and Brandee are well-functioning young ladies with not a metaphorical scratch.” Crossing her arms, her freckled nose scrunched, “You keep them safe and away from your personal hell. You’d do anything, including scarifying your own well-being.” 

Amanda looked around, conflicted. Her dark eyes burned into the camera as if she could see Barbara on the other end before saying, “You think he killed that girl?”

“Do you?”

“I-”, her voice cracked, and Mary gave an urging nod, “I took the girls with me off the circus property the night he brought her around. I don’t know how old she was, if I’m being honest. But I’d never seen him so angry, and I know his anger …” 

“If I asked you, could you try to recongize the girl from a panel?” Mary leaned even closer, forcing the woman to meet her gaze, “If you identify our victim, will you testify for immunity? It’s the best way to keep your kids safe.” 

“I don’t need your damn immunity. I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t even there that night, like I said.” 

A couple passing by on the sidewalk gave the two women an odd look. Mary grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the way. Amanda shoved her arm off in response. 

“You work in IT, don’t you? When he’s charged, who do you think they’re going to indict as his accomplice? Someone’s scrubbing footage for him, and all evidence points to you.”

The brunette’s shaggy hair fell into her eyes as she stared, mouth agape. Opening her mouth more in an attempt to speak, Amanda quickly closed it. Mary waited, arms crossed, letting her simmer in the silence. 

“He’s going to throw me under the bus? After everything …” Looking up, Amanda blinked a few times, pushing back tears, “How- what do I do?”

Mary reached into her bag, offering a Kleenex, “You understand the gravity now. If you don’t comply, you’ll easily become an accomplice.” Scrunching her nose, she waited for the woman to dab at her eyes, “Even though you weren’t involved.”

“How do you-”

“Your behavior. Your defenseiveness goes beyond cheating. You’re afraid for your kid’s lives.” Raising a hand, she cut Amanda off, “Leaving him puts you in danger; helping him gives you no option to escape. You weren’t surprised someone’s helping him, you’re just surprised they’d accuse you.” 

“Huh.” Amanda sniffed, blowing her nose, “You’re creepy. "

“Thank you.” Mary offered another Kleenex, hiking her bag on her shoulder, “Would you stop by GCPD headquarters tomorrow to write a statement?”

“You promise it’ll keep my girls out of the crossfire.”

Her face was more earnest, showing real vulnerability beyond the anger. Barbara could help but feel for the woman. She was only a victim of the circumstances she’d found herself in. Mary shared the same sentiment, furrowing her eyebrows, consolingly replying. 

“We’ll do the best we can.”

GOTHAM CITY - LIGHTROOM CAFE

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23rd, 11:00 AM

Mary jumped at the blaring of the horn, taking a deep breath before sipping the coffee that had pooled on the lid. She turned slowly as two sets of doors simultaneously closed, and then she froze. 

Dick snapped forward quickly, catching her cup as it dropped. Mary pointed to the vehicle in horror. A broken croaking noise escaped her throat as her eyes were glued to the large dent on her front bumper. 

“What did you do?!”

Mendez stepped forward with open arms, “We got evidence and a potential witness.” 

The pleased expression, coupled with the expectant hug, multiplied by the fact that her car was damaged, sent a hot, boiling sensation down her spine. Mendez had to duck as Mary attempted to hit him with her bag. 

She shook, forcing out, “I’m talking about my car.” 

“Again, how do you think we got the evidence and potential witness?” 

Mary wound the straps of her bag, gearing up for round two. Dick reached into his pocket, pulling out the bagged key and placing it into her palm. Holding onto her fingers, he met her scowl with wide eyes, nodding his head to the key. 

The bag unwound itself in a slow circling arc as her arm dangled. Mary inspected the key and then the accompanying note Dick passed. Anger melted off of her like a popsicle slipping off the stick on a hot summer day. 

Slowly and unwillingly. 

“Who’s your witness?”

“Tell me how yours went first.” Mendez countered, taking a cautious step toward her. He relaxed when she didn’t lunge at him. 

“Amanda Parrott consented to a photo panel and is arriving for a documented interview tomorrow.” Mary replied proudly, “She confirmed our suspicion that Holcomb had contact with Kate Dyson. However, she doesn’t have the guts to be the person wiping evidence for him.”

“I’ve got someone who can confirm that Holcomb has changed drastically in the past year. Her insight could help us narrow down who’s calling the shots above him.” Mendez raised an eyebrow, “And she works for LexCorp in IT. That could be useful in finding our ‘wiper’”

That description sounded awfully familiar. Mary combed her mind on everyone connected to Elizabeth Holcomb before narrowing her eyes, looking between Dick and Mendez. 

“Grace Moroney?”

Mendez scoffed, “There’s no way you just knew that.”

“You gave me all the pieces to connect that description to her.”

The LexCorp job had really been the cornerstone piece. The Moroneys never stopped bragging about it. Even Mary’s mother, who was the dictionary definition of manners, rolled her eyes when it was brought up.”

“Nuhuh,” Mendez argued childishly

“Yuhhuh.” 

The two partners stared at each other for a moment, holding their breaths before breaking into matching grins. Mendez broke the small gap between them, swinging the short woman with a whoop. 

“Whose better than us, baby!” 

The joyful yell caught the attention of passersby on the street. Mary couldn’t seem to mind, reveling in everything finally becoming clearer. They were narrowing in on finishing this thing finally. 

Feet landing on the ground, she turned to the man a few steps away, who was unusually quiet. Dick looked uncertain and a bit annoyed, but he offered her a small, glowing smile as she beckoned him over. 

Hooking an arm with his, Mary answered Mendez’s question, “No one’s better than us.” 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23rd, 5:00 PM

Leaning his head against the plush cushion of Mary’s couch, Dick shut his eyes against his pounding headache. He could hear her moving things around in her room, getting ready. The corner of his mouth quirked as he heard a bottle of some sort clatter and Mary’s curse in response. 

Her home smelled nice. Not the usual vanilla she sported, but something simpler and cleaner. The silence allowed his mind to wander, back to the way she’d looked when they’d picked her up. 

Hair twisted into glossy curls, mouth agape, ready to murder them both. He hadn’t realized how quickly he could miss someone he used to go months without contacting. 

Opening his eyes, Dick straightened up, reaching for the cup of coffee on the table. It was cold, but at least it was something to wet his mouth. He froze as a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry for keeping things from you”, Mary’s voice was soft, as she leaned forward, nose brushing against his quickening pulse, “Occupational hazard. Mendez and I aren’t used to sharing.”

One hand tightened on the handle of the mug, the other held onto her arms, “I’m the king of tactical manipulation. I’m honestly impressed.”

Mary hummed, tapping her head against his before pulling away. Coming around the couch, she leaned a hip against the armchair, “Glad I can still impress you.”

The words barely hit him, his mind too preoccupied. Mary adjusted the sleeve of her tight-fitting shirt before pulling at the hem of her skirt. 

“You look way too nice for a dinner with him.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow, tilting her head, the action causing the necklace sitting at the hollow of her neck to twinkle, “You think I’m pretty, Richard? Jealous?”

Mimicking the tilt of her head, Dick leaned forward, smirking, elbows on his knees, “You want me to be, Mariam?”

He wanted her to short-circuit. Needed to see her react the way he did every time he saw her since that night. The best he got was the slightest pause, her painted lips wavering before she scrunched her nose. 

“You're tricky.” Two simple words that dissipated the tension, “Are you going to suit up? We need to leave in twenty.” 

Chapter Text

JUNE 22ND, 8:20 PM

Running a bit late. Sorry!

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23RD, 8:10 PM

This was the second time in a matter of 24 hours that he was alone in Mary’s bedroom. It should have felt like an overstep to her hospitality, but all he was was relieved that he was pulling on his suit and not her dad’s pajama pants again. 

The room was a break in her usual pattern: unmade sheets, a pile of clothes balanced on the dresser, gold jewelry tossed onto the bedside table alongside a prescription bottle of insomnia meds that she wasn’t taking regularly. 

It wasn’t messy by any means, but it was a break from her strict brand of order. 

Using her mirror to slip on his mask, he noticed the picture of Mary’s parents tucked into the corner. She looked exactly like her mother except for the freckles. The spark of curiosity always present in her eyes was from her dad. They looked good and honest, the type of people he might meet at a diner on a road trip. 

The kind that would have had their hands full trying to raise someone like Mary. 

Dick bit back a smile before glancing back at his reflection. Staring back at him was a softer version of himself. He was stressed to hell, he’d barely gotten a good night's rest in years, and yet somehow …

He looked content. 

Jaw unclenched, hands loose at his sides. Not ecstatically happy or even relaxed, but as if he didn’t belong anywhere else. Like he knew that eventually all this insanity would wash off his back.

“You loitering in there?”

The knock was loud. It forced him to clear his throat before calling, “Oh, absolutely.” 

The door quickly opened, and Mary stood arms crossed in an attempt to look annoyed and inpatient. Her eyes said otherwise, the slight crows’ feet she was developing pulling together in a way that was achingly endearing. 

“You ready?”

“Are you?”

Mary shrugged, lazily strolling in before flopping down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. That was about as much honesty as he was going to get from her. Dick sighed, poking her with an escrima stick with one hand.

She didn’t respond, her face blank, a million thoughts swirling in that head of hers. The mattress dipped where he sat, and he reached to pull down her skirt where it had ridden up before lying down beside her. 

Feet planted on the floor, a thick silence settled over them alongside a creeping feeling of deja vu. Turning his head, Dick could see the way she was trying to regulate her breathing, a cue that she was more nervous than she let on. 

It took her another moment before Mary sat up again, rocking back and forth before forcing herself to stand. Hands behind her back, she eyed his costume, gaze stopping at the emblem on his chest like she’d never seen it before. Slowly, her line of sight fell to the escrima stick still in his hand. 

“Want it?” He smirked, twirling the rod quickly as he got up. 

Mary raised an eyebrow, mockingly impressed before replying, “No. Don’t give me one of those. I might snap and start beating people with it.”

“Truly?” He tilted his head, looking down at her. A quick toss of the escrima mid-twirl from one hand to the other caused the mocking to falter just the slightest.

“Mhmm. Jokeresque transformation,” Mary stated, eyes widening dramatically. 

Taking a breath, he took a step back and tossed the weapon to her lightly. The catch was slightly fumbled before she tightened it between her fingers, testing the weight. The weapon looked incredibly out of place against the light pink polish. 

“Feel anything?”

Mary reached to hit the decorative pillow that had fallen to the end of the bed twice. She paused after the second thwack, thinking before handing the escrima stick back.

“No. I must be too mentally stable.”

Dick let out a strangled laugh. Mental stability was a far-off dream that both of them were better off abandoning. 

Mary frowned in response before crossing her room, muttering about needing a jacket in case the restaurant was blasting the AC. 

Dick sat down on the edge of the bed again, eyebrows furrowing as he noticed that at some point he had taken his watch and placed it on Mary’s bedside table. It looked at home, silver blending next to her gold hoops. 

“What do you think?”

Mary held one hand up in questioning, the leather jacket’s hem hitting an inch longer than her skirt. Dick felt silly at the relief that it would leave less for Holcomb to see. He had no right to feel anything about what she wore. Mary was a grown woman. 

“It looks like you raided Jason’s closet.”

Mary scoffed, shoving the door to her closet shut with a hint of difficulty, “A guy I went on a couple of dates with left it. Jason wishes he dressed like me.”

Somewhere in Gotham, Dick was sure his brother was suddenly feeling a bone-chilling shiver go down his spine. 

“I highly doubt that.”

GOTHAM CITY - CRIME ALLEY “DOWELS TOWNHOMES”

PRESENT DAY - DICK

TWO HOURS PRIOR - JUNE 22ND, 6:00 PM

“You don’t look anything like your cousin.”

Mary ignored him as she tossed the key from one gloved hand to the other, “Before you put this key into a plastic bag, you got your prints all over it, didn’t you?”

Dick hissed through his teeth. Their shoes crunched on the dry grass in tandem as they approached the tree beside the Dyson family’s home. 

“Officer Grayson can just accidentally touch it a few times gloveless before it goes into evidence. I didn’t have time to pull out a random pair of gloves, your majesty.”

Mary rolled her eyes as she bent to adjust the strap on her heels, “You and Mendez are a match made in heaven. Both of you have zero respect for mandated protocol.”

Dick tossed his own eyeroll back. That was rich, coming from the woman who had coerced and intimidated a potential witness off the clock. He frowned skeptically as Mary tapped one of the roots with her foot. 

“Root rot. There’s got to be a metaphor to that somewhere.” Mary explained, before reaching for the lowest branch and hauling herself up, “You really think this key will fit?”

“Certain.

He knew Gotham and her wretchedness down to the smallest detail. Including her keys. 

Mary gave a hum in response, disappearing from his eyesight into the branches. She didn’t have the coordination for a career as a vigilante, but he couldn’t deny that Hayes could climb a tree faster than anyone he’d ever seen. 

The world seemed to be still as there was a click of the window unlocking. 

A perfect match.

Mary peered out from the window, mouth set into a hard line before beckoning with one finger for him to follow. Five seconds later, he was stepping into the crime scene that had been Kate Dyson’s room. 

Pretty and pink. Destroyed and bloodied. 

He found Mary sitting on the floor beside the bed, running a hand through the hair of a dark-haired Barbie doll. The infamous model of Carolyn Dyson, down to the details of her mutilation. Her daughters test run before annihilating her family. 

“I wish I didn’t get it, you know …” She muttered as he sat beside her, shoving the bagged key back in his pocket. Mary ran a finger over the number carved into the doll’s arm, “But I do. I understand her frustration and the excitement of finally being noticed by someone and being offered freedom.”

Mary stood with a groan, offering her hand to help him up as she continued, “I know it’s my job, being in their heads, sharing their delusions and rationale. It’s the after that I don’t get … she was scared when Holcomb turned on her. I know she died young and afraid, and I can imagine it, but Mendez feels it.”

Dick followed her down the stairs into the living room, where the stain where Kate’s mother had lain remained. The entire house was soaked in death, a living tragedy. 

“He’s a people person; it’s in his nature to understand others that way.” Dick attempted to rationalize away the worry that her mind was somehow bad or wrong. Nothing about Mary Hayes was particularly wicked. “Just because someone else is highly empathetic doesn’t mean you’re incapable of the same emotion.”

“I threatened to take Amanda Parrott’s kids away from her.” Mary countered as they stepped out into the blazing sun, covering her eyes with her hand. “And I don’t regret it. I used her kids the same way Agent Brookes used me, and my only solace was that I’d be putting away a killer.”

Accepting the piece of gum she handed to him, Dick chewed a few times in thought. So there had been some truth in what Grace Moroney had said. Some breaking of boundaries had occurred to get a young Mary involved in the Atilla case. 

“Do you blame the agents?” Dick asked cautiously, anger simmering just beneath the surface for the girl she’d been.

“No … did Grace tell you that?” Mary questioned, using the window of his car to jot a few ideas into the notebook she always carried with her, “That cognitive interview was necessary for them to get a warrant for Goodes’ house.”

“You were ten.”

“So were you, and you were doing worse.”

Dick popped his gum loudly. Mary scrunched her nose back. 

The idea of her alone with Holcomb was weighing heavily on both of them as the hours crept nearer. Their bickering was just one way to avoid a conversation about the unavoidable. 

“But you’re wrong.”

“Hmm?”

“Grace and I used to look a lot like each other when we were younger.” When she was rushed, like now, Mary’s handwriting was cramped to the point of blending into itself. Dick squinted, trying to read it as she continued, “She dyes her hair auburn.”

Dick bit his cheeks, eyes crinkling, “Mary, she’s tall.”

Mary ‘notorious for climbing her cabinets and always wearing heeled shoes’ Hayes let out a sigh, reaching into her bag for a highlighter, “I said we looked alike as kids. Before she had that growth spurt. Give me a second and I’ll show you a pic-” 

Absent-mindedly uncapping the highlighter with her teeth, she grabbed her ringing phone, answering with a muffled, “Hello.”

“Am I on speaker?” Mendez asked, accepting Mary’s grunt in response, “Is my boy there too?”

Dick clicked his tongue twice, “I’m here, man.”

Something about the detectives’ overflowing affection and complete lack of boundaries was growing on him. Mendez wasn’t a bad guy to be around. 

A female voice from the other line could be heard asking in a sharp, nagging tone, “Your boy? Who the hell are you talking to?”

Mary lit up, pen stalling for a moment, “Hi Val!”

The voice softened to a sugary sweet tone at the confirmation that Mary was there, “Hi, baby. You plan on stopping - Daniel shove me one more time and I swear …”

“He’s talking to his controversially young new boyfriend.” Mary lamented, avoiding the gum wrapper Dick threw at her, “At least that’s what he wishes.”

“You just don’t understand Richard and I’s new blossoming friendship and are jealous.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Do you want to know if the key fits or not?” Mary took the silence as a response enough, “It did. Which means that, allegedly but not so alleged, Parker Holcomb is the most likely killer of at least Kate Dyson.”

“Nasty work, Hayes, your hometown produces some weird people.” There was shuffling on the other end as Valeria Mendez left the room in hurried disgust, “Think you can get into his head without actually meeting with him?”

Mary huffed, replying that she needed a minute before putting her partner on mute. As if remembering something, she tapped into her photos on her phone, pulling up an older picture of a group of kids piled into a living room. 

“Me.” She pointed to a small freckled child with a wild grin whose hair refused to stay in its barrette clips.” Dick took the phone, zooming in. For seven years, she’d never shown a single photo from that time, “That’s Grace. Holcomb with the Parrs and Rowens. And … Kristy.”

Kirsty Atilla was photographed sitting next to Grace, who looked nothing like Mary, arms around one another. Kristy’s hair was a bright strawberry blonde, woven into a tight, neat braid. With large brown eyes and a shy smile, from just a single photo, Dick could see why the girl had been so revered. 

She’d been loved, a whole future in front of her. 

And then she disappeared. 

Unmuting the phone, Mary went back to talking with her partner in a hushed tone. Dick closed his eyes, the picture seared in his brain. All it had taken was the choice of one man to destroy Kristy’s future. To remove that wild smile and hair from the woman standing before him. To turn the blonde boy in the photo into a murderer. 

“I think the Atilla case has to be the catalyst, Mare.”

Mary paused, setting her phone down on the hood of the car as she slowly turned around. The curls from that morning still remained as she pulled her hair over one shoulder, eyebrows quirking as she prompted him to go on. 

“The thing pushing Parker to become what he is. Maybe there isn’t another dominant partner. Maybe he’s just getting lucky and those numbers … they’re retribution for Kristy. Visiting back home could have triggered something in him.”

If that was the case, they had enough evidence to get a warrant out for Parker’s arrest. This whole thing could be over tonight. 

Mary tapped her forehead with her wrist, “It’s a possible trigger if he was working alone, but he’s not. The truth of the matter is, if the Atilla case didn’t bother him for over a decade, then why would it now? There has to be a dominant partner manipulating him into it. He’s a follower, not a moral code killer.”

“What if he’s not the person you think he is. What if your intuition was wrong all these years?”

“I don’t work on intuition, Dick, I work with facts, and I know if we arrest him now, we’ll never catch the person at the top.” 

Dick groaned, stepping closer to grab her notebook and tuck it into his pocket, “Is that you thinking rationally or like someone from Nowelsland? You guys apparently have a flawed sense of loyalty.”

Mary bristled at the accusation, about to counter back when Mendez interrupted from the phone, “Calm it, lovebirds. You could both be right, Atilla’s death could be the trigger that the real dominant partner used to -”

“Besides the fact that Parker was involved, nothing connects this case back to Atilla. Not the victimology, not the methodology, and most certainly not the message he’s trying to send …” Mary trailed off, her eyes narrowing in thought, “This dominant partner wants us to notice something. ‘I care about attention. ’ That’s their message. The code means nothing to Parker.” 

“Unless, Mare, he is actually the dominant partner. Then we’re sending you out as bait with a manipulative master mind”, Dick spoke slowly, voice low. There was no need to raise the volume when they were already nose to nose. 

“Again, we don’t know that unless I speak to him. You have qualms about my having a memory bias about him. About me being unable to decipher the kid from the man? Then let me observe his current behavior. Tonight.”

There was a blaze in Mary, low and burning, that didn’t match her detached tone. It was admirable how much she wanted to make sure the details were right. How badly she wanted to make sure she closed this case for good. It was also so recklessly stupid that it made him want to scream.

Looking down at her from the bridge of his nose, Dick took a shallow breath, noticing the way Mary held hers in turn. 

“Could you get into his head?”

Mary blinked. Dick put an inch between himself and her furious face. 

A simultaneous ‘what’ fell from their mouths. 

Mendez repeated his question, “Not to sound like a broken record, but could you understand Parker’s logic before meeting him. I can get inside little Parker’s head; you try with big Parker. 

Dick scoffed at the idea of calling him Big Parker. The man was barely 5’5” and didn’t have the confidence to make up for it. 

“What’s little Parker like? Oh gee, I’m so glad you two stopped arguing to ask me that question.” The sound of Mendez’s pacing mixed with his poor attempt at sarcasm. He stomped as loudly as he talked, “He feels abandoned, leaving everything he’s ever known, and no one’s really paying attention because they’re focusing on Kristy. But even as a preteen, he can’t be mad about that because he liked Kristy. So he builds up a lot of resentment for his hometown and accepts Metropolis as home.”

“But there's always a little ‘what if I go back’ lingering in his mind?” Dick opened the car door, beckoning Mary to go in. 

It was way too hot with the sun waging a war on every living thing at the moment to stay outside. They’d already been standing there long enough that Mary’s nose had started going pink, a precursor to being sunburned. 

“Bingo. If I could promote you to Detective right now, I would, Grayson.”

Dick exchanged a look with Mary, who pursed her lips in amusement as she adjusted the AC. Tilting the seat all the way back, he focused on her usual cadence as Mary unwove the ideas in her head. 

“Okay, my turn.” Slipping off her shoes, Mary sat cross-legged, her cues of thinking written all over her face, “I’m now an adult who’s insecure about the way I’m perceived and the things I’ve achieved. I come back to town to visit my dad and get frustrated because everything and nothing's changed.”

“Like?” Dick prodded.

Mary hummed to herself before answering, “Like the fact that my dad is now beating himself up about how things went down. But the Atillas are still dysfunctionally grieving. And Mathew Parr is now the only other person my age worth talking to that’s still in town, but all he does is complain about how everyone abandoned it.”

Dick ran a hand over his face. All good people with reasons to be angry. But not many matching the description of a highly intelligent manipulator. 

The most influential person on that list was Holcomb’s father. But they had no evidence for the flimsy ideas they were throwing back and forth to each other. And if Sheriff Holcomb was feeling some regret, that wouldn’t naturally progress into violent, illogical thinking … would it?

Mary shut her eyes, no longer herself, “Nathan Hayes is still walking around like he can see every thought anyone has ever had. And every one of them is cornering you. Asking about your mom, your life, and telling you about their problems …”

She trailed off, and Mendez coughed awkwardly before Mary hissed at him to be patient. This was something she refused to rush. 

“And if I’ve got the timeline correct … everyone is complaining about how Dr. Goode is back, on parole and roaming the town like nothing happened. Most importantly, someone is pulling me off in private to talk about how, ‘no one outside this town cares to notice our plights and no one in town notices enough to prevent a repeat.’”

Mary’s breath caught, and she shook her head as if she could leave the scenario she’d put herself in. But she’d somehow simultaneously slipped into both the mind of Holcomb and their guiding hand. 

“And I’m so angry. So angry that I’m smarter and more observant than anyone else. And Parker’s so weak. He doesn’t even know he’s soft-minded, impulsive, and a little irrational. It would be so easy to make him believe the same things I do. Because the world has to notice, or else it was all for nothing. So I get him to do the dirty work at first, and then he gets cocky and recruits some more. And I sit back and see how long I can kill in a pattern before someone picks up - Oh my god.” 

Mary blinked once, looking ahead as if she saw a ghost. Muttering a succession of no’s beneath her breath, she reached for her phone, opening up the picture again and zooming in on the wall. Decorated in the center was a large map. 

She handed it to Dick with a shaking hand, and his eyes scanned the enlarged part of the photo, “39 50 18 North 77 35 25 West. It definitely matches.”

“Matches? What matches? Can someone please inform the person across town what those coordinates are?” Mendez’s command came sharp as Dick traced a hand over the jagged line traced in dark red beside the coordinates. Handwritten additions to the map, not something someone could buy. 

Mary reached to run a hand through her hair before she hesitated, changing her course of action to drop her head in her hands, “It’s the numbers correlating to Nowelsland’s spot on Hagerstown Valley. And the lines on our victims were supposed to be the valley itself. This wouldn’t be in any database, at least not the correct numbers. Some townsfolk calculated our more accepted coordinates a few decades back.”

Dick had a sick feeling that he knew who had done so. He asked anyway, incredibly cautiously, “Who? Who would these numbers be significant to?”

“My dad.” Mary paused, refusing to remove her hands from her face, “My dad and a few friends did it when they were teens. That picture was taken in my house, that’s my dad’s map.”

“Mary …”

It all sounded bad. Very bad. 

Dick reached over, gently pulling at one of her wrists. Relief washed over him when he saw determination set in her rather than panic. Mendez from the other end spoke gently as if on a sinking ship where any panic would cause them to capsize. 

“You said most residents accept those coordinates?” Mary answered with a plain ‘yes’ and Daniel sounded more hopeful, “Then your dad’s not the only POI from that list.”

“He’s just unfortunately the smartest one,” Mary replied dryly. 

It was a logical jump. Mary's general inquisitive nature, her level of observation, most things that helped her excel, she always attributed to her father. She often mentioned how he’d take her to the fields and show her how to actually ‘observe’ the world rather than simply perceiving it.

“Well, fortunately, he’s the one you know best. You think your daddy could kill?”

“No. But I’m his daughter.”

“And that’s why you have a partner who can be objective.” Mendez’s soothing words were the best weapon he had in his arsenal, “And that’s why you’re going to do the best cognitive interview you can on Parker Holcomb. So you better go home, get pretty, and clock in that detective brain.”

A minute later, the call went dead. Dick held onto her wrist, rubbing small circles into it. Mary didn’t fight or yank back, accepting the action. 

“We can’t jump the gun on this, Dick.” She bore him down with a resolute look, “You have to promise me you won’t let me jump the gun. I need concrete evidence before I even think of accusing my own father. I’ll die before I -”

“I know.” He cut in roughly. 

The last thing he wanted was her world to fall apart on a whim. To learn that the person she loved the most in this life wasn’t who he seemed. 

“I’d never let that happen.”

Mary looked at him warily, gray eyes stormy and doubtful. So he did the only thing he could to reassure her. Pulling the hand in his grasp, he pressed his lips firmly onto the fluttering pulse at her wrist in silent promise. 

GOTHAM CITY - GOTHAM UNIVERSITY

FRESHMAN YEAR - MARY

NOVEMBER 1ST, 5:00 PM 

Mary sat on her bed, watching as the whole world seemed to crumble around her. The lights of her room fought once more to burn bright before shutting off simultaneously with the news. She shut her eyes for a moment, cursing under her breath.

Pushing herself off the creaky mattress, the flashlight on her phone guided her to her closet. Dropping to her knees, her skin protested against the rough grain of the carpet as she pulled out the box from the far back.

Outside her dorm room, she could hear the overlap of a dozen people ambushing the RA for their floor. Panic had already begun building when the national services had ordered the evacuation of Metropolis. There was a collective worry that the call to move out of Gotham would come too late.

Mary took another deep breath, counting to three. It didn’t do her good to start freaking out now; what was meant to be would happen. What she needed was light.

“Aha!” She murmured to herself, pulling out the lantern. A pack of matches soon followed, and she stood shoving the box back into its spot with a socked foot. “There you are.”

Placing the old thing on her desk, she messed with it, making sure it would have enough fuel to burn. Holding the match between her teeth, she moved to prop her phone onto her water bottle, setting it to live footage.

An involuntary wince left her mouth as a distraught reporter yelled over the destruction of a Lexcorp building. The fortified structure fell, practically disintegrating in seconds. Noise from the footage was cut for a moment as she struck the match and in an instant-

“We have light”, Mary smiled to herself, proud that she hadn’t argued against her father for bringing it.

Maybe older was better.

“What century is that from?” A tired voice called from her window.

Mary froze. Leaving your window open in Gotham was a rookie mistake. It was practically a waving flag saying, ‘Come in to kidnap me and use me in a very elaborate ploy against Batman.’

But could one really blame her? She’d only been in the city for a couple of months.

Turning incredibly slowly, she finally saw the masked vigilante. The dark-haired male offered a smile that looked like it hurt as he pointed to her lantern, emphasizing his question.

“It worked, didn’t it?” She gesticulated to a warmly lit room. “Would you shut the window? You’re letting the draft in.”

Robin raised an eyebrow at her, “It should have been triple locked in the first place.” He leaped down, the bright yellow and red of his suit cast in shadow from the low light. “There is an alien invasion happening, you know?”

“In Metropolis.” Mary interjected, sitting down in her desk chair, “I thought the little one wore the Robin suit now? Aren’t you a little old?”

“Old?”, the vigilante choked out in offense, “I am not old. And I’m Robin, for now. The new guy’s in training.”

“Your replacement?” Mary’s mouth twisted into a wry smile before she turned her attention back to the news, “I’m just kidding.”

There was a creak as a body sat on her bed, and she could feel the gaze of someone watching over her shoulder. She adjusted her phone for a better view.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?”

There was another scream from the reporter before her screen cut out. A few seconds later, it was replaced with a new angle and a new reporter.

That earned her a deep sigh before a cautious voice said, “That’s what I’m here for.” The springs from the bed creaked once more. “My teammates and I are working to keep the nearby cities safe. The Justice League is containing the damage caused to Metropolis. I promise, I’d never let something bad happen here.”

Mary turned slightly in her chair, “You’re doing a bang-up job by hanging out here with me.”

He rubbed at his temples, avoiding her gaze, “You’re the civilian who kept her window open. I had to check and make sure the space was safe.” His words were cut off by a yawn, “No rogues have been trying to capitalize on the situation - yet.”

Robin stretched as he passed, pushing a piece of paper towards her, “Either way. I should be heading back onto the streets now. You never know when the tides can turn, and you seem to have a paper due. Do it, keep your mind off the fact that our planet is being invaded.”

Her window screeched open again. A masked face looked over at her again as if to say something. His shoulders were slumped, and despite the bright colors, the little exposed skin she could see was drained, as if the life was sucked out of them.

There was the usual tension in his temple, the clenched jaw that showed the hidden worry. Knowing your very human father figure is fighting some sort of interplanetary being was a feeling Mary would never understand. But she could sympathize.

But beyond the fear and the adrenaline, there was pure and utter exhaustion. This week alone, Robin and Batman had dealt with an Arkham outbreak, and now the world could possibly be ending. Well, maybe not ending, but still dramatic enough.

All that took a toll on a person, and that was only half of his life. Mary looked down at her computer, holding the completed copy of her paper. Robin already had one foot poised out the window, ready to leap.

“Let me do yours,” She declared, and the vigilante paused.

“What did you say?”

She stood, pushing her chair back as she moved to stand closer to the window. Mary didn’t raise her voice as she repeated.

“Let me do your paper for you, Dick.”

There was a pause, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. It suddenly felt freezing, and Mary rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms. She avoided the burning stare fixed on her face.

A definitive shut of her window was the only sound to break the quiet, followed by several almost silent footsteps. She forced her eyes up, meeting the masked face less than an inch away from her.

“How long have you known?”

“Since mid-October,” Mary licked her lips, “I didn’t say anything because it wouldn’t have helped you. You’d spend the rest of your life wondering when I’d expose you.”

Dick passed the length of the room, his booted steps sharp, “Yeah, Mary. I’m a little worried. You should have never figured this out.”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall, “Well, it happened. And I would have kept my mouth shut forever if I hadn’t realized you’re killing yourself trying to take on the entire world.” He whirled around, watching her dejectedly, “You’ve got a civilian on your side now. Use it to your advantage.”

“That’s just wrong.”

“It’s not wrong if I’m offering.”

Dick ran a hand through his hair before motioning to her to shut the blinds. The second they snapped closed, he took another look at the locked door before peeling off the mask. If he looked tired before, with his blue eyes exposed, he now looked like a walking corpse.

Dick sniffed, covering his face with his hands before looking up, “What gave it away?”

“Nothing to the rest of the population. But you’ve known since the day you met me that I notice more of the world than most. The only person I’ve ever met who is more perceptive than me is my father.” Mary clasped her hands together and then unclasped them.

She’d always prided herself on being good with words, but now they flew out of her mouth barely formed. “After back-to-back lectures on cognition and talking with Dr. Bircham about his work … things started to click.

“Things started to click,” Dick repeated deadpan.

Mary nodded, putting her hands together once more and holding them under her chin, “After those classes, I started being even more aware of the things I might not notice.”

“Like my behavior.”

“I already knew your tells, Richard Grayson.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t. Her feet refused to listen either, keeping themselves rooted to her spot by the window. “But I realized, I take the presence of the heroes around me as a given. A month ago, I barely paid attention to them.”

Dick gnawed on his cheek, urging her to go on as he finally sat down on her bed. He looked worried about what she’d say next. And he had every right to be.

“Once I started focusing, I couldn’t stop tracking behaviors. The wheel started spinning, and it couldn’t stop. Not just of Gotham’s heroes, but god, this will make me sound like a crazy person. You’re going to tell Bruc- Batman and who knows what he’ll do to me.”

“He’s not going to do anything to you.” Dicks voice was surprisingly gentle, “The worst thing he’ll do is add you to the contingency and watch lists.

Mary blinked. That didn’t sound like ‘doing nothing to her,’ but what did she know? Slowly, she reached into the locked drawer of her desk, handing Dick a notebook.

“There’s a whole page on Superman’s vocal inflections. I can watch the news now and know the exact level of concern I should have by how much he projects his voice to a crowd. Is it an exact science? No. And I’m never going to use it against anyone, you could burn those pages right now and I wouldn’t care.”

Dick flipped through the pages, the slightest bit of amusement pulling on his exhausted face, “Some of these are scarily spot on. I will have to confiscate this.”

“Go ahead.” Mary’s feet finally complied, and she made her way to sit next to him, “I swear I didn’t know how deep I was getting until I realized your two identities were one and the same. The way you tap your knee when you’re nervous. The way you’re both so curated to respond to the reactions of others. I could brush that all off, chalk it up to correlation, but your kindness,” she flopped back onto the bed staring at the ceiling, “Your level of selflessness is once in a generation.”

The bed dipped slightly as Dick lay down next to her, and she was certain for a moment that he’d fallen asleep until he said, “Go on.”

“At the start of the year, I watched you sit with some drunk stranger for hours. Letting her puke on your shoes and your shoulder, and your lap, all because you didn’t want her alone in that state. You barely knew me and still offered to drive through a flood with me to pick up my Mama during parents’ week. I mean, I swear you’d give the shirt off your back with a smile, and why wouldn’t you?”

She sat up, pointing to his costume, “Because you’re already risking your life for strangers, so what’s the harm in giving your shirt?”

Flopping back down, Mary reached for her pillow, pushing her face into it before coming out for air, “That’s what gave it away. Because Robin’s light and heroism could have only been you. And I probably still wouldn’t have noticed if we didn’t spend so much time together.”

“So we need to see each other less.” Dick finally smiled, looking a bit more like himself, “Just our luck, Bruce is probably going to send me away forever.”

Mary narrowed her eyes, tracking the line of a water stain on her ceiling with her eyes, “He hovers, he’d sooner die than send you away.”

“You really do notice everything, don’t you?” Dick pulled her up into a sitting position, “But seriously. You’d actually write my paper for me?”

“I know your writing style. It would be indistinguishable from your other papers.” Mary stood, sitting back at her desk and opening her laptop, “You go protect the world from evil, and I’ll save your grade.”

Dick nodded slowly, placing his mask back on. Squaring his shoulders, he made his way to the exit. “We’re not done with this conversation. But thank you, truly.”

Mary shrugged, opening her mouth to give some sort of sarcastic reply. Her brain couldn’t think of one. Instead, she let the silence spread, waving an awkward goodbye.

Dick cleared his throat, “Well, if we weren’t friends before, I think we have to be now.”

Being friends with him hadn’t been on in her plans. This was supposed to be a short term partnership. Now she couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day. 

Mary moved to open the window. They’d continue spinning in circles unless one of them did, “I think it’s unavoidable.”

Dick frowned, looking at her intently one last time before letting out a clipped, “Can’t wait”

It was the last thing she heard before the sound of the grapple whisked him away into the night.

GOTHAM CITY 

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23RD, 8:40 PM

Things were finally clicking in the way they always did. In the same way, Mary had solved all her cases since joining the GCPD. And especially in the same way she’d figured out Dick’s identity all those years ago. 

Once she found one tell in a person, the others came naturally. The whole world was connected in that way, a secret reality only she could see most of the time. People tended to be unaware that their actions came with behavioral cues, and if they were aware of some, they weren’t of others. 

It was a natural by-product of human beings’ incapability of having a mirror in front of them at every waking moment. There were just some things people couldn’t notice they did.

Mary took a deep breath in front of the restaurant. She could see Parker from the window, a hopeful expression on his face, anticipation apparent in the way he kept readjusting his silverware and snapping at the waitress. 

Disgust filled the pit of her stomach. Holcomb thought he’d get lucky tonight, expecting more than her needling questions. 

Wiping her hands on her skirt, Mary could feel the gaze above her hidden deep in the shadows. Her own personal guard dog, practically salivating over the idea that he may have a reason to knock Parker down. 

“Quit stalling”, pinching her wrist, Mary forced herself to open the door. She was already late as it is. 

It wasn’t going to be hard, all she could remind herself. She already knew Parker’s tells. They had the home court advantage and enough to put him away right now. All she needed was to get him talking enough to link him to someone back to Nowelsland. 

As she slid into the seat across from the killer with an easy smile and “Hi,” she prayed to god that the link wasn’t anyone she loved.

Chapter Text

October 10th, 6:50

Grayson, I swear to god if you dragged me from my internship for a gala …

October 10th, 7:00

Atleast let me in. 

GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR

FRESHMAN YEAR - DICK

October 10th, 7:00 PM 

“I feel fineee.”

“You don’t look fine. Chris, let’s just go home. Come on, your girlfriend’s probably worried about you.” Dick ushered gently, pushing the kid into the library.

The space below them was cramped and loud. Deafeningly so. And some socialite had already spilled wine on him one too many times.

“Anything for the mission”, Dick whispered bitterly, nodding to Jason as he entered. 

The plan was supposed to be simple. Christopher Luttrell was the second son of one of Gotham’s oldest and currently most problematic families. It made him the perfect target for an assassination attempt. Especially since the family needed a way out of controversy at the moment. 

Dick was supposed to stay at the gala and keep an eye on him while Bruce tracked down the would-be killers Chris' parents had hired. Except that the spoiled teenager wouldn’t listen. And there were cameras everywhere, preventing “golden boy” Richard Grayson from screaming in his face.

“No”, slurred Chris, unaware of what he was even contesting. 

Dick checked his phone, sending out a prayer of thanks. Shoving the kid onto the couch, he pointed a finger, “Stay there. Jason, don't let him move.”

There was a scoff from where the twelve-year-old sat with a large book in his lap. Tie pulled off, dark hair falling into his face, the boy looked adorably comfortable. Dick wasn’t surprised. The library had become Todd’s sanctuary from the moment he arrived at the manor. 

Dick stuck his tongue out at his brother's non-response before glancing back over to the couch. Lutrell was already far too gone at this point to get up on his own. Leaving him with Jason was a calculated risk, but there were at least two hours before the expected attempt. Loosening his tie, Dick stepped out onto the balcony of the second floor, scanning the crowd.

He thought for a moment before reaching for the key to lock the library and expertly weaving his way into the livable part of the manor. Opening the kitchen door, he mouthed gratitude to Alfred, who was discarding another broken wine glass, before pulling the back door open.

“What took you so long?”

“Screw you, I shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Mary scowled, crossing her arms, the movement causing her ponytail to swing. Compared to his tailored suit, she looked completely underdressed.

Dick rolled his eyes, grabbing her by the wrist to drag her back up to the event.

“I wouldn’t have called if I weren’t desperate. But I need to get to Bruce, and this kid shouldn’t be on his own.

From behind him, Mary clicked her tongue in disapproval before ramming into his back as he hit the metaphorical brakes. He could feel her peering from behind him as Lady Diane Hawthrone stared them down over her pearl-encrusted glasses

She raised her nose, first at the red stain on Dicks shirt and then at Mary in her sweater. Mary glanced back and forth between the socialites, tugging at her sleeve as she stepped fully into view.

“Richard, where has your father gallivanted off to?”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to look sheepish, “Oh, you know Bruce. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ditched his own party.”

The woman huffed, looking back at Mary like she was something sour, “And you are?”

“Mariam Hayes, ma’am. Gotham University first-year student.” Mary’s eyes narrowed as the woman bristled at the use of ‘ma’am.’ “Just here to pick up an assignment.”

“And the help couldn’t have-”

“My most sincere apologies, My Lady. But we really do have to go.”

Latching back onto her wrist, Dick pulled Mary into a side hallway, quickening the pace back to the library.

“My Lady”, the girl mused, voice tense from holding back amusement, “What is this a castle?”

“It’s stupid, I know. I think she’s British but not the good kind”, Dick stifled a chuckle before noticing a shadow nearby, “Duck.”

Mary sputtered an exasperated ‘excuse me’ as he shoved her head down to hide them from view. He waited a few moments before harshly pulling her up, running the last few feet to the library.

“You need me to babysit?” Mary’s voice was deadpan as he unlocked the door, revealing a drooling Lutrell, “Hey, Jay.”

Jason gave a hum of hello as Mary stepped behind him, leaning in to see what he was reading, one hand ruffling his hair. 

Curled into himself, Chris had crushed one of the emerald green decorative pillows to his chest. He mumbled before turning in the opposite direction. Mary placed both hands on her hips, running her tongue over her teeth, before turning back to Dick.

“You really need me to babysit?”

Taking a deep breath, Dick sighed before opening his eyes again. She was still there.

“Yes. I do.”

That was the understatement of the year. He’d collected pertinent intel while trying to corral the menace and keep him from sneaking wine. The plan of attack against Luttrell had changed, and Bruce needed to know. They were looking for a clean exit now instead of a dramatic one. 

It seemed that Mother Luttrell had decided that paying to have her son shot was a bit too cruel. Poisoning, however, was still on the table. Which meant the Bat’s plan of attack also needed to change. 

Unfortunately, the old man’s comm had gone out before Dick could inform him. So now his only option was a ditch and dump onto his exasperated lab partner and newly adopted middle school brother …. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He could have called Wally, but something in his gut told him Hayes was the best person to bully a drunk teenager into listening. 

“What do you need Bruce for?” 

Dick paused, the lie slipping easily off his tongue, “Kids’ parents are investors. Need to find B’s drunk ass to sign some documents.”

Mary’s eyes scanned the books on the shelves, hopping off the edge of Jason’s armchair to pluck The Interpretation of Dreams off the shelf in disgust, “Freud? Really?”

“This is not my library, Mariam,” Dick replied in annoyance as he reached over to prevent Christopher from rolling off the couch. Hooking his arms under the boy's armpits, he sat him up with one swoop, “Wake up, kid.”

The teen opened bleary eyes, “Wha-?”

“Get. Up. Your new guard dog is here.”

He could feel a pair of narrowed eyes watching him, boring into his back. Mary came to crouch beside him, staring at the boy's drunken state before reaching forward to flick him in the forehead. 

“Ow. What was that for.”

Mary ignored him, “What is this really about? You’re lying and don’t try to deny it.”

Hayes was getting trickier to navigate day by day. The more time she spent with a person, the more she was able to pick up. If he weren’t so good at masking and presenting false emotions, Dick would have started to get worried by now. 

“He’s seventeen. Downstairs, there's the faculty of the school he’ll be attending and the police commissioner.” Dick spun the words in a way Mary’s small-town self wouldn’t understand. The lives of the elite were mystifying enough that any combination of mistruth should have worked, “He doesn’t need to embarrass himself or his family or ruin his future. And he won’t as long as he stays here to sober up.”

Dick offered a dimpled smile. He was actually kind of proud of the weave he’d spun.

Mary stared at him expressionless, her eyes slowly coming down to where his hand rested on his knee. Then they narrowed, turning to the once again slumped over teenager. 

“Okay.”

Her voice was too blank to get a reaction from. Clean, clinical, expressionless. Dick took it as a good sign. 

“I can give you my notes from today, and you can cross-check them until I come back? Get a head start on the next assignment?” 

She loved doing that stuff. It was the only incentive he really needed to offer to get her to stay. 

“Okay.”

Dick nodded awkwardly, standing quickly to leap over the armchair to where his backpack was hiding. Handing it over, he expressed genuinely, “Thanks a billion.”

Mary’s eyes narrowed further as she accepted the papers, “Mhmm. It’s awfully nice of you to look out for this kid, Dick. Especially with all the hot water his parents are in.”

He was halfway out the door when he paused. He hadn’t realized just how much Mary watched the news. Enough to know the Lutrells were being indicted for arms dealings overseas. Enough to know that foreign adversaries were making threats against the family. 

Dick gave a bright grin, hiding his surprise, “I’m a nice person, believe it or not.”

“Mhmm.” came the quiet response as the girl situated herself on the floor next to the couch.

Dick sighed as he stepped into the hallway again, moving deeper into the manor where no one would follow. He was just almost out of earshot when he heard Mary ask far too casually for his liking, “Jay, do you know anything about correlation versus causation?”

GOTHAM CITY - ANGIE’S PHO

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23RD, 9:00 PM

“I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Parker’s eyes were slightly glazed over, like he wasn’t entirely there. He was looking at her, but Mary knew for certain he was looking at parts and not a whole. Serial killers like himself all shared that feature. 

Dr. Lukas Brown in Star City had postulated that somewhere between the first kill and the point of devolution, the individual's cognition underwent a significant change. Subsequent theories pointed to the idea that the perception of personhood was the most affected in order to rationalize their behavior. 

Granted, that research had been done before Mary had been born, based on undisclosed files from Arkham, so a refresher study was needed. 

Still, she couldn’t deny what she was seeing. 

“I’m so sorry. I just got off work.” Pulling out the chair for herself, she reached for the files tucked in her bag before sliding over a pen and paper, “Well, technically, I’m still on the clock. Fun’s a short commodity these days. You’re still consenting to this interview, correct?”

“Well …” Parker picked up the pen slowly, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck, “I don’t know if I’d be much help.”

Mary smiled up at the waitress, pointing to her usual order before clasping her hands in front of her, “I’ll be frank with you, Parker … if it makes you feel better. It won’t take long until the food gets here. Plus, off the record, I’m not going to interrogate you.”

All truths. Stretches of the truth, but enough honesty for Holcomb to feel a tinge more comfortable. 

“At this point, it’s simply a recorded statement. If we can get procedure done, then we can catch up.”

All it took was the softening of her gaze, and his hand reached out, snatching the pen with fervor. Parker signed all three consent forms without a second glance. 

Consent to the interview, consent to the recordings, and his Miranda Rights. Mary narrowed her eyes as she set the small recorder down. Parker glanced at it, gaze lingering on where her finger pressed the start button. 

They were in a corner booth, tucked away into the quietest part of an already quiet restaurant. That made things so much easier on her end. Taking a deep breath, Mary evened her tone as she stated the date, time, and location.

“This interview is being conducted by forensic psychology criminal profiler Mariam A. Hayes. Assigned badge GCPD-FPCP-012. This interview is on behalf of both the Gotham City and Bludhaven police departments for the open case numbered 17651. Interviewee: Parker D. Holcomb.”

Mary swallowed the bile in her throat as Parker’s gaze remained unwavering on her lips. She hated red lipstick as it was, but now she vowed never to wear it again. 

“Mr. Holcomb, are you aware this interview is being recorded?”

It took the man a total of ten seconds before he answered with an unconfident, “Yes.”

“And per the documents you just signed, you acknowledge that you were advised of your constitutional rights and agreed to speak with me without an attorney present. If at any point needed, one may be assigned to you.”

“Yes?”

Mary clapped her hands together, stretching her neck, “Wonderful. Let's begin. Where were you the hour before Andreas Soli's death?”

GOTHAM CITY - ANGIE’S PHO

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 23RD, 9:30 PM

Dick could see her from his perch, and he could hear her voice in his head. The breezy way she spoke, as if speaking to suspects like Parker was the easiest thing in the universe. The way she sat, ankles crossed, posture straight, held tilted just so. It was like a cobra just waiting to strike. 

Parker was none the wiser, distracted by shiny hair and a low-cut top. The man had become putty in her hands while Mary’s eyes narrowed and her “Okay’s” became sharper. 

The food had arrived, and the suspect was still blabbering. Holcomb had already admitted to a flimsy alibi regarding Solis’ death. One cross-reference with Delia, the pink-haired circus performer, would break it. Now it was up to Mary to needle out the fine details of his operation. 

“Thank you, Parker, your alibi has been recorded. Per protocol, I must also state that you are no longer our prime suspect.”

A slender hand stirred the pho in front of her deliberately, a front of casualness. Parker visibly relaxed, unaware that he’d gone from suspect to confirmed perpetrator. Mary’s interview strategy was venomous and sticky. Slowly debilitating their better judgment and letting them talk themselves into holes with a nudge here and there. 

Dick grinned as he watched her begin the scaffolding for Parker’s downfall. 

“I would love to pick your brain, however. See if I’ll notice something your subconscious missed.” Mary leaned forward, snatching the sriracha and turning her broth a bright red. 

“Still imitating your dad? Or is this more like your mom, following the gossip train?” Holcomb asked with a grin that stretched out his face just a tad too far. 

Mary didn’t falter at the mention of her father; any hesitance from hours before was replaced by apathy. She did, however, reach for the chili oil. Dick knew it was another attempt to burn her senses to get through the interview. 

“I’ll let you decide.” 

Leaning his head into his palm, the vigilante soaked in every drop of Mary’s presence like a man in a desert. It was rare to see her working alone like this. Calling every single shot. 

“Tell me about any changes you noticed in the past year. Catch me up on your life and let me do all the hard work.” Mary offered a small smile at the man’s nervous look, “I know you, Parker. I know who you are. I’m good, I promise. Like you said, I am Nathan Holcomb’s daughter.” 

There was a beat of silence as the man across from her raked his eyes over her figure. Mary glanced for a beat out the window before looking back as he crooned. 

“That you are. But you grew up to look like your mama. Pretty as a doll, now imagine if he had a son.”

Dick flexed a fist as Mary let the comment roll off her like water, “Speaking of sons. How’s your father? I need to pay my dues and visit him.”

Parker bristled, setting down the chopsticks he was struggling with, “The old man’s still the same.”

The blonde scrunched her nose, going back to rotating her soup in slow, even arcs, “Still butting heads with him, Park?” Holcomb practically melted at the nickname, “I get it. I’ve only just started forgiving him for how he influenced Kristy’s trial.”

“God, that’s ancient.” Mary raised an eyebrow as the man spat, “The bastard almost killed me.” 

Mary hummed in response, and the man leaned forward, pulling down his collar to show the faintest scar with pride, “You hear that I almost died a couple of winters ago? When I came home?”

“Possibly.” 

“Surprised your loud mouth mother didn’t tell you.” Dick could see the slight freeze from Mary before she loosened her shoulders again. Parker spoke through a mouthful of food. “The whole town gets snowed in. I’m talking about the worst blizzard we’ve ever seen. And then dad got this  idea to do some renovating.”

“Mhmm.”

“Somehow the nail gun goes off. Straight at me.” Dick rolled his eyes. His body was practically an abstract work with all the scars decorating it. It was cute that this guy thought a nail gun was going to impress Hayes. “The one good decision that bastard made was to run and get Dr. Goode. Brought me back to like. They don’t call him the good doctor for nothing.”

“They also call him the good butcher.”

“Don’t be bitter, Mariam. After that moment, I said to myself, I’m going to do just that. I’m going to follow in his footsteps. That’s my destiny.”

And following, he did, Dick thought, rage building in every pore of his body. A copy and paste down to the part of killing teenage girls. 

“Aha. Explains the whole healthcare thing.” Mary leaned her chin into her palm. “I was wondering what drove ya to it. Tell me more about that.” 

GOTHAM CITY - ANGIE’S PHO

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23RD, 9:30 PM

Mary had been on a lot of dates she wasn’t proud of. 

The concept of a dinner out was fun until the guy sitting across from her would come to the realization that she wasn’t a dumb blonde, was horrible at committing time, or was just a tad too on the nose about things to the point of being unnerving. 

In those instances, all a girl could do was say c’est la vie and be glad she got a good meal out of it.

Mary wasn’t proud of it, but she was a serial dater. A serial first dater, to be exact. Which meant that she should have been prepared for most of the things that came out of Parker Holcomb's mouth. 

She wasn’t. 

“What’s bringing you home this past year if not your dad?” Mary forced the words out, each syllable grating on her very being. 

Parker was insecure due to his fractured relationship with his father and downright belittling due to his issues with his mother. A combination made in hell. 

“You spending time with my dad? Visitin’ Matthew? My mama says he's been bored out of his mind since everyone moved away.”

“Your dad’s always hiding in those trees. Never had a reason to visit. Parker’s hands were greasy, and it took all her self-restraint not to smack him as he tucked a hair behind her ear, “But maybe I do now.” 

The words were honest, and it took a heavy load off her chest. They implied that her father had no connection to Holcomb. Mary breathed a sigh of relief that Parker took as a sign of comfort, leaning in closer.

“As for Matt. Can’t say I ever liked him.” That was a lie, and Mary knew it. No one disliked Matthew Parr, even her and he’d broken her heart at the start of college. “I’m surprised you aren’t wrangling his babies at this point. Running a bit behind, aren’t ya”

Mary blinked at her pho as a strangled noise sounded from the comm in her ear. A string of profanities followed as Mary swallowed before replying, “Parker … Matthew and I haven’t dated since we were kids. He didn’t tell you that when you visited?”

“No, why would I?”

Her father. Sheriff Holcomb. Matthew. All three were swiftly removed from her mental list of potential suspects. Benjamin Attila wouldn't speak to any Holcomb after what had occurred at Kristy’s trial. She’d laugh at even considering the Rowens as suspects, and Parker was too much of a misogynist for the partner to be a woman. 

“Okay.” 

The word gave just enough of an opening; it always did. People just couldn’t help filling the spaces. 

“He’s too proud. Bitter that he’s stuck in town and now all he’s doin’ is complaining.” Mary nodded, and it was all the encouragement that he needed, “Bastard looked me in the eye last visit and told me I was making Kristy turn in her grave. Like she’s some patron saint.”

She had a horrible notion of where this was going and what they were zeroing in on. Kristy, Holcomb, and Grace had all been the same age. As close as Mary had been to the twins and Matthew. But idolatry was sick and pervasive. And Parker truly believed he had been given a second chance at life. 

“You’re visiting Goode, aren’t you?” Mary felt her blood run cold. She took a deep breath that felt like stabbing through her lungs, “Parker, don’t do this to me right now. What could you possibly be doing there?”

She knew the answer. Knew exactly what Parker was thinking and what Goode was thinking. Insecurity and isolation. Validation and retribution. One insecure, emasculated young man with the belief that he’d been brought back with a purpose to serve. And a psychopathic narcissist willing to exploit Parker’s newfound worship. 

God, they’d all been so stupid to let him out of prison in the first place. 

“I’m visiting?"

“Visiting?” Mary felt her voice hardening, losing any trust she’d built into it. She didn’t care. This was sick. “Visiting Dr. Goode. Be serious, Parker.”

She could hear Dick in her ear, calm and rational, telling her to refocus. But her face felt hot, and there was a pounding all around her like static. 

This was sick, and they’d all just let it happen.

“You’re being emotional. That man saved my life. As far as I’m concerned, he brought us all to life. Have some respect.”

Parker spoke like he was talking to a child. He spoke like Goode did when she used to cut across his yard, condensation dripping from the words. 

“That man killed Kristy. Did you forget that? You cried because you couldn’t say goodbye. Did you forget that?” She was seething. Any training that told her to compartmentalize was thrown out the window, “Did you forget that she was so decomposed they didn’t let her mother see her body. Because I sure didn’t.”

“You're being hysterical, Mariam. It was a bout of psychosis, Goode’s fine now, he did his time, let the man live.”

Mary stood, snatching the recorder with her. It continued to play in her pocket, and she reached down to throw a handful of cash onto the table, “He killed a little girl. And then looked her parents in the eye and helped search for her.”

“Because Benjamin Atilla killed his daughter.”

“No, he didn’t! Jane Goode died due to an accident.”

“It was Atilla's horse.”

Mary stared at his mouth agape, eyes wide. Dick kept repeating for her to calm down. That she was losing her grip. That her advantage was shot. 

But she didn’t want an advantage if she was going to have to pretend to agree with the things the man following her out of the restaurant was saying. 

She stepped out into the night, and Parker grabbed at her arm. She pulled back roughly. 

“Why are all you bitches like this? And then you wonder why no one wants you.”

GOTHAM CITY - ANGIE’S PHO

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 23RD, 10:00 PM

“No, Parker, no one likes you. You’re an insecure submissive loser who spent most of his life looking for love that was always readily available.” Dick could see Mary fully and in the flesh as she stalked away. Her words had gone from harsh to slow and deliberate. Like a pulled back arrow locked on its target. “You weren’t man enough to imitate your father, and I certainly have no clue what makes you think you’re smart enough to imitate the good doctor.”

“Watch your mouth, Mariam. I do good work at the circus. Best medic they’ve ever seen.” Parker preened, and Dick considered how much damage he could do if he knee-dropped him from his current height. Maybe he should have grappled up to a higher building. “Trust me. You see those two little girls running around when you were there? They’d be dead of infection if it wasn’t for me.”

Mary paused, throwing her bag over her shoulder. Dick frowned as she kept turning her back on a man known to abuse his partners. There was too much faith in Nightwing expressed in her actions, like she knew he’d be there the second the tides turned. 

Because he would. 

“The Parrott twins. Yeah, they’re adorable. They called you Dad.” 

The lie rolled off her tongue like second nature. Even Bruce would’ve had to admit it was a smooth move. It softened the blow to Parker's ego just slightly, feeding whatever delusional world he lived in. 

“Is that why you’re mad? God, you didn’t have to complicate things.” Mary took a step back as he leaned closer, visibly disgusted, “I couldn’t care less about those brats or their mother. They’re all dumb as bricks. They can barely see what’s in front of them. They’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

The words were said with such hatred. Such bitter detest that Dick could practically see the shiver run down Mary’s spine. The Parrott twins were polite, talented members of the Triumph. But more importantly, they were babies. Barely seven years old, with big eyes and sparkly costumes they liked to spin in.

They still believed in magic and goodness and that the pretty detective who had talked to them looked like a princess.

Babies who most certainly didn’t deserve that disrespect.

The aforementioned pretty detective agreed with him as her nose twitched before replying slowly, coldly, “How old are they again?”

“Seven.”

“Seven and seven. Any parent would have their hands full.” Mary hummed, “Seven, seven … aces with the antics they probably get up to. I bet you just wanted to strangle them sometimes.”

“All the time. But you should know I’m not with their mom anymore. I just want to make that clear before … your apartment is nearby, isn’t it?

Dick wished he were the one being strangled right now. Or doing the strangling. Or both.

Seven and seven. 

The way Mary stressed the words wormed into his brain, and he shut his eyes. 39, 50, 18 North … 77. There was no way, Dick thought with gritted teeth, before swallowing hard.

“I’ve got work in the morning.” Mary's eyes darted to one of the rooftops, searching for a sign he was there. “It was nice catching up.”

She took one more step, back against a car as Parker grabbed her wrist harshly, “I could walk you home. Don't end the night like that, Haysey. 

Any bravado Holcomb had was lost as a loud high high-pitched scream escaped from his mouth as Dick landed hard on the roof of Mary’s already dented car. 

“I think Detective Hayes said she has work to do.” Parker's eyes widened as he stepped down, stalking to stand in front of the man with a large grin, “Don’t worry, I can walk her back.”

Parker stood straighter, puffing his chest as he stuttered, “I’m you’ve got better things to do. This isn’t your buis-”

“I’m this city's prodigal son. Everything’s my business.” Dick clicked his jaw, “Try to touch a woman like that again on these streets and I’m breaking your arms.”

It wasn’t easy to act big and tough and smart when the person talking back was taller and stronger and would make good on his promises. 

Parker sputtered out a weak response, and Dick couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Scram. Dates over.” 

He watched with labored breath for a moment until Holcomb entered his car and drove off in a screeching huff. When he turned back, Mary was staring with wide eyes, like she was seeing something for the first time. 

“I-“, she shook her head, blinking a few times before walking quickly down the alley. Dick followed a few paces behind as her words caught up with her body, “I … I need to call Daniel. Let him know he needs to take Amanda and her kids to the station. Jesus-”

The sky was darkening, and shadows were beginning to loom. But Mary’s apartment was only a few blocks away, so against his better judgment, he let her walk out her thoughts.

“Dick, he’s going to try to kill those kids.”

“I know.”

Stopping in front of a particularly muddy puddle, Mary paused, staring ahead at nothing. She whirled back, glancing at him like she wanted to say something before turning back around with fervor. 

“Okay ..” Her voice was calmer than it was a second ago as she teetered between rage and rationale, “Okay. You’ll leave for Bludhaven in an hour to submit evidence. Daniel will deal with the twins. I’m going to present a final profile to Lawrence, and they’ll raid Holcomb’s home and take him into custody … okay.” 

“And then?”

“And then I’m giving Agent Brookes from the BAU a call and asking him if he remembers a case he did for a mountain town in Maryland. Lawrence is going to kill me, but I want to make sure Goode is prosecuted federally this time.” 

They paused at the steps of her apartment, a heavy silence in the air. 

“I’m really angry, Dick. I don’t think I’m in my right mind to make that final arrest either way. It’s too personal.”

His hand twitched forward to touch where her wrist was already beginning to bruise a light purple from Parker’s grip.

“I think that’s okay. I think you’re allowed to step back, Mare.” Glancing back at her wrist, something hit him, like a full force smack to the head, “You realize that ass didn’t even get you flowers.”

“I’d rather he didn’t.” Mary replied bitterly, buzzing herself in, “Anyways, are you coming in-”

But before she could even finish her words, he was already gone. 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 23RD, 10:45 PM

Slamming her door shut, her feet stomped so hard that her downstairs neighbors would be complaining in the morning. Mary didn’t care as she forced her window open, stepping onto the fire escape. 

The summer night air hit her in the face as a beautifully warm breeze tousled her hair. Gotham was holding her breath, bathing the city in its usual quiet. Calm like this was hard to come by these days. 

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

Fingers gripping the railing, she let out a strangled screech before collapsing to the ground, head thumping against the rusted metal. It honestly made her raging headache better. 

God, what would Kristy think? Any sign of self-control Mary had tried to emulate from her was oscillating between complete and utter fury. She felt stupid for not noticing what was right in front of her. For not noticing in the first place, because that one action had made her a pawn in Goode's game. 

“Well, that was something else.” Dick landed quiet as a dormouse, all kind teasing and barely hidden concern. He was still in his suit, eyes covered, gloved hands holding something wrapped in parchment. “Someone's angry. Woah-”

Mary reached up, latching onto his wrist and pulling him to the ground with her. Side by side, back to the rest of the world. A moment that couldn’t last. Dick reached to pull off his mask, and she met the gaze of the loveliest person she’d ever met and saw herself mirrored back, down to the slightest emotion. 

“How’s your head and heart?”

The question was simple, echoing the words he’d asked her back at the circus. God, that day felt like a million years ago. Mary shut her eyes, hitting her head a couple more times against the rail before a hand stopped her. She mulled over the question, relishing the darkness her eyelids offered. 

“My head hurts.”

She frowned as she considered the second part of his query. Her heart was pounding, practically hammering in her chest from adrenaline. It hurt just as much as her head did. Taking a deep breath, she was about to open her eyes when whatever Dick had brought with him was deposited in her lap. 

The scent hit her first. Sweet and green like an early spring in the orchard. Like home. When she finally did rejoin reality, the first thing she saw was the small purple petals peaking from the parchment. 

Lilacs. 

Mary had never believed that someone could die of heartbreak. Scoffing at red string and intertwined souls had been easy until forever had cornered her on the fire escape after the worst date the human race had ever witnessed. Forever now whispered of blue eyes, and laughter, and lilacs in her kitchen for one measly price. 

Wherever one went, the other would follow. And when the time came, the moment his heart stopped, the strings of hers would snap. 

Dick was the first to break the silence, “You deserved something after taking one for the team. We are not doing that again.”

“Understatement of the century. But we’ll see what plans I have next week. Maybe I’ll find the next Bundy at Apple Bee’s.” 

Laughter, so warm it practically burned, left Dicks mouth as he shook his head. 

“No more dates. You’re done.” There was more to that statement than just work. Neither dwelled on it as he continued, “Mendez confirmed that both Amanda and the twins are safe at the station. You should be proud of the work you did, not try to wake up all of Burnley by screaming.” 

Mary flexed her hand staring ahead. Her brain attempted to mull over the night, pushing any thought of the man beside her aside for a moment. It was a pointless attempt as her breath hitched the moment Dick reached his own hand up to touch the tips of his fingers to hers.

“I’m heading up to Maryland by morning. And then this will be all over.”

Fingers interlocked with hers as Dick added softly, “And you can sleep knowing it isn’t your dad. And I get to sleep at night knowing Holcomb’s going to be behind bars and will never see you again.”

There was a scar from where he’d been slashed over his knuckles. Mary ran her thumb over it, listening to the way his voice deepened as she did. A confirmation of what she already knew. 

“I don’t sleep.”

“Call it hubris, but I think I can fix that.” Dick’s teeth gleamed, face illuminated by the nearby streetlight, and her heart leapt, “Mare … we need to talk about something. I need to tell you something.” 

“I know.” The words came out clearer than she expected, “We’re not great at hiding things from each other. 

Letting go of her hand, he turned to face her fully. Everything about him fluttered like the last leaf in autumn. Shaking precariously, like her own hands, now clasped tightly in her lap.

“Of course you do.” He ran a hand over his face, and her heart clenched once more. The mask he’d worn most of his life was gone, replaced by longing so pure she was certain it would kill her, “Are we doing this right now?”

It was a simple question with a not-so-simple answer. 

“We shouldn’t. I just went out with another man.” Mary’s hand reached up on its own accord, running a hand over his jaw, “I’d ruin your morals, golden boy.”

Dick leaned into the touch, lips a hair's breadth from hers, “Doesn’t phase me.”

His breath was warm, and his eyes, half-closed, burned into hers. They were so close it wouldn’t take much. This was it, and they both knew it. There was no going back; the second either moved, it would be written into stone. Fates sealed. 

But not just yet. 

Forcing herself back, Mary sighed, her head hitting his chest at the noise of indignation that escaped from Dick. Shaking, she looked back up, giggling at the lost eyes, big and pleading that stared back at her. 

“You’re cruel Mare.” 

She didn’t mean to be. Down to her core, there was nothing more she wanted to do than stay like this until the world imploded. But if they were going to do this, they were going to do it right. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Dick stared at her a moment before a chuckle escaped him, resting his head, “You’re not sorry. You're being logical. I need you not to be right now. I really need you to just close this gap-”

Waggling a finger, she pushed back, scrambling as a hand reached for her ankle. Fishing for her phone in the jacket pocket, she argued, “Unhand me. This is so unheroic of you. I will bite you, I swear-”

It did little, and she found herself chest to chest again. Narrowing her eyes only seemed to egg the vigilante on further, as did the stern, “Richard.” 

“Mariam.” 

“Dick, I’m being serious. Not yet. I won’t be able to think. If we cross this line, you aren’t leaving tonight, and you need to be in Bludhaven. Aces not just because of my stupid case. That’s your city, your life, your career.” 

“I’ve got it under control. I know what I’m doing.

“You’re going to lose your job.”

“I’ll get another.”

“I’m not going to be the reason you get fired. Go. home.” She fumbled with her phone, adjusting the police scanner on it to pick up the happenings of the next city over, “Listen.”

Dick stared at her incredulously, tightening his grip on her, “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s so unromantic. You’re a mood ruiner, Hayes.”

The sound of a siren screeching following reports of a bank robbery, forced his jaw to clench just the slightest. 

“Good, that was my intention,” Mary sighed, wiggling herself out of his grasp enough to lean against his arm. “I think they need their hero.”

“Hero's busy. Arsenal’s helping.”

Standing, she brushed the dust off her skirt, grabbing the lilacs beside her. Raising the volume on her phone, she repeated once more, “Nightwing needs to go home. I hear an annoying detective is making him drop off a key at the police station. The very sweet Officer Grayson must be so bored waiting for it.”

Dick took a step forward, and Mary clicked her tongue, stepping back into her apartment. “Go home, Nightwing, before I start screaming again. Not yet isn’t a no. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

“You better be. Because I’m coming back the second this thing is over.” 

Putting his domino mask back on, Dick stepped back onto the edge of the fire to escape the look on his face, practically intoxicating. Setting down the flowers on the sill, Mary nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. 

“Love ya. Stay safe.”

How many times had they said those words before? How many times had it meant as much as it did now, watching him disappear again with a strangled, “You’re killing me, Hayes.” 

Chapter Text

June 24th, 7:30 AM

Lock. The. Door. 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 5:00 AM

Thinking about Richard Grayson was not an option. Matter of fact, looking in her kitchen, where a spring of purple flowers hung in her window, was completely off the table. 

You are better than this. 

The words fluttered in her head as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Water dripped from the glass, puddled on the floor, and down her back. The old Gotham U shirt she wore was drenched. 

Focusing on the case at hand. Getting at least an hour of sleep. Preparing the final profile for presentation. Those were non-negotiable. Those required her focus. Richard Grayson did not.

You must be better than this.

Profilers had to be better than the killer. Smarter, faster, crazier. That was how they beat them at their own game.

A telltale drip came from her faucet. The sharp ping reverberated in the silent room as Mary scrunched her nose back at the love-sick girl in the mirror. And then she melted, face falling into her hands as a deep breath escaped her. 

“Mariam, focus.” 

Slowly, she stood back up, dialing a number she’d never had the heart to call before. Digits that had first come to her written hastily on a sticky note and then plugged into every subsequent phone she had from the moment she got one. 

“Hello?” The voice was deep, baritone, older than the one that existed in her memories

“Agent Brookes?” Her voice came out squeakier than expected, and the girl in the mirror stared at her with wide eyes and messy hair. No one would question if that girl knew how to climb a tree or bend a couple of rules to get what she needed. Mary honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen herself like this. 

There was a pause before a sympathetic, “That’s me, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

Profilers knew the people they saved. They weren’t caped heroes in the traditional sense. Mary knew for certain that roundhouse kicks and free-falling would never be in the cards for her, and she relished in that fact. Still, she’d been working this job for a fraction of what Brookes had and remembered every single person.

The college student held hostage at a train station in Pennsylvania. Her first case at the GCPD helping Mendez narrow down a child molester. The serial rapist victim she’d interviewed for the BAU, whose case had been closed years ago. Two years later, and the woman’s thankful goodbyes still haunted her memory. So while Brookes may have had no idea exactly who she was, he most certainly knew what she was. A piece of a case from long ago.

“I don’t know if you-”, she took a deep breath, composing herself, “My name is Detective Mariam Hayes with the GCPD. You worked a case in my hometown of Nowelsland-”

An incredulous laugh cut her off, and Mary frowned, wiping up the water off the counter as Brooke apologized, “I’m sorry, Mariam. Nowelsland … Yes, I do remember it. It’s not every day a kid helps you close a case. I’m guessing the little girl who played fairies grew up?”

Mary bit her lip, “She plays detective now.”

Brookes laughed again. She couldn’t recall him laughing this much when he was younger. Maybe she hadn’t been paying attention, “She is a detective now. It breaks my heart to see you local, even if it’s in the city of crime.”

Mary sighed, navigating her apartment to the pile of paper on the small kitchen table. Her tablet lay on top of them, and she brought it to life, pulling up her profile, “I tried federal for a bit. Missed the rush of home.” Her eyes darted back to the kitchen, to the window, mind wandering just enough that she missed the beginning of Brooke’s reply. 

“-So what can I do for you?”

Mary sighed, clearing her head as she pulled up a chair. She needed to focus, “I have a serial case that needs to go federal. Would you like to hear the profile?”

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 6:00 AM

“Christopher Goode is a textbook narcissist.” 

Most of this case was infuriatingly textbook, Mary had to admit to herself as she circled around the table. Her heels clicked as she stepped off the carpet, her wrist firmly held behind her back. 

“Lack of empathy, the need for admiration, heightened skills at exploitation. And all his malice is aimed at hurting one town. A handful of families.”

Meeting the eyes of the officers in front of her, she emphasized every one of her words. Lawrence stood off to the side, face cold as he analyzed what his profilers had spent far too long on. No doubt, sorting through the details they may have missed. 

“He won’t jump the gun, and he won’t run. What he is going to do is urge his submissive to so.” Mary forced herself to take a shallow breath, “If Parker Holcomb feels the pressure sinking in, he’s going to do exactly what he’s been told. He’s going to finish Goode’s mission quickly. We’re looking at full devolution.”

Officer Cesar had a bad habit of leaning on the back legs of his chair during meetings. A compulsion likely born in the back of Gotham public school. Over time, it had become a necessary step to focus, like now as he asked, “What do you suggest, Detective?” 

She paused, considering her words. Beyond this moment, Parker Holcomb would be out of her hands.

“Move faster. Our forensics team is better; send them up to Bludhaven to expedite the evidence. Don’t wait for it to be processed", she eyed her supervisor for the go-ahead. Lawrence responded by raising an eyebrow at Gordon, who simply raised his hands in exasperated concession. “Raid his home. Take caution, though I doubt he’ll be able to do much harm. By the time you book him, your evidence will be processed.”

“And don’t worry about collateral.”

The voice from the doorway was stern. Mendez stood jaw clenched, arms crossed over his chest. It clashed with the pink sequined dolphin he held in one hand. 

“His intended targets are safe. No one’s in the home.” Mary peered around her partner, where one of the new cadets was handing the Parrott twins hot chocolates from the kitchenette. Their statement must have hurt, but something told her they were stronger than most adults gave them credit for. “Frankly, you should be gone already. What are you still doing sitting here?” 

Mary rolled her eyes as one of the officers raised his hand, oblivious to the insult, “And Goode?”

“Out of our jurisdiction. You’re all dismissed.” Gordon stood, patting Lawrence on the shoulder before leaving the room. Officers slowly trickled out, leaving the profilers alone.

Sitting on the edge of one of the tables, Mary rubbed her temples as Mendez tossed the stuffed animal to her. She’d need emotional support for what she was about to tell their boss. 

“You gave up the case, didn’t you?”

The accusation was tinged with amusement, the older man’s eyes sparking with confrontation. Mary ran a finger over one of the sequins before bracing her hands on the edge of the tabletop. 

“Federal oversight is necessary for a conviction.”

“You went against my orders.”

Mendez cringed from behind them, tapping the sole of his leather shoes into the ground. He was usually the one going toe-to-toe with Lawrence. Disobeying orders was his thing, not hers. 

“If I recall, Harold, you said we could try to keep the government out of it. I never received a direct order not to get them involved.”

Lawrence quirked a brow. Mary raised her own, teeth clenched so hard she thought she’d chip one. 

“You’re getting bold, detective.” Motioning for her to follow, he shoved past Mendez, who wrinkled his nose at him. “It’s about time.” 

BLUDHAVEN - GRAYSON APARTMENT

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 24TH, 6:00 AM

Bludhaven was not on fire when he got back. It was not shot up. Or poisoned. Or decimated to the ground. Nothing horrifically, horribly bad had happened since he’d left for Gotham. But the way Roy Harper now stared at him … you’d think all of the above had occurred.

“So anyway. Thank you guys for filling in for me.” Dick scratched the back of his neck, looking to the side to avoid his friend’s eyes, “You did me a real solid.”

“Tell me one more time, very slowly, who you were helping because I feel like I didn’t hear you right the first time.” Roy took a deep breath as he pushed out the words.

Her name rolled off his tongue like it was the only one that belonged. Each vowel tugged on his heartstrings. Roy’s eye twitched, and he reached into his pocket with a muttered ‘unbelievable’.

“Don’t text Wally.”

“I’m texting Wally.”

“Wally’s here.” The speedster sat on the couch, head propped in his hand as he joined the conversation. Dick shot Roy a withering glare, “Sooooo why were you helping her?”

Mary had the unfortunate reputation of being dubbed a “fun hater” among a select group of Titans. Despite meeting only once, both Wally and Roy had dragged on a very one-sided grudge after she had ruined their night out. Then she’d had the audacity to become one of his closest friends. Wally, in particular, took great offense to the idea that he could ever be usurped.

“Serial killer, Wall. Her case.” He fought against the tug of his mouth, “She is a detective.”

The man on the couch paused, considering for a moment, before giving Roy a conceding shrug, “It’s a valid point. Is the case done?”

Dick nodded, opening his mouth to say his thanks once more. Assurances that he wouldn’t need substitutes any longer. He’d go back to caring for his city - there were whispers of a new smuggling ring he wanted to crush. That would take up his time. But how could he make those promises when he knew the second he got the call, he’d be back in Gotham?

Wally leaned forward, brows furrowing. There was no hiding from his friend. Kid Flash and Robin were etched into every version of themselves. Together in every lifetime.

“You guys aren’t friends anymore, are you?”

The words were said delicately, offering a way to skirt around the truth. 

“No.”

They wouldn’t ever be friends again. That title had officially been retired.. Dick pursed his lips, offering a pathetic shrug. The speedster nodded in response as Roy let out a delighted “Thank god” before launching into celebration plans.

“Roy …”

“No, this is my Christmas. Someone call Donna, we’re hitting the -”

“Roy,” Wally stressed again, pointing to Dick, who was slowly backing away, “Look at him.”

The archer paused, frowning as he stepped closer. The frown grew deeper as he bore into Dicks eyes before a “No” escaped his mouth.

Was it that easy to tell? What mask covered up the feeling that his trachea was crushing itself, that pressure behind his eyes was building, and that it was suffocating, but it didn’t hurt. Not having her around would hurt more than anything he was currently feeling.

“Look at his eyes, man.” Wally clicked his tongue, tilting his head with a small smile, “Suffocating isn’t it? Linda says it’s more like a squash than falling.”

Linda Park was a smart woman. It must’ve been the journalist in her because Dick had fallen before. It was nothing like this.

“I’m done for Wally.”

“Good. I’m glad.” His friend thought for a moment as Roy flopped onto the couch in defeat, “Does this mean I have no competition for best friend?”

Roy muttered a tired, “Donna,” from his new spot, staring at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Donna doesn’t count.”

Dick felt for the key in his pocket, suddenly remembering the task at hand. He needed to drop off the evidence so that Holcomb could spend a very happy life behind bars. Then they could close this horrible case behind them and open up the next.

“Look, can we talk about this later. Thank you guys again.” Trading his suit for his police uniform before he left was the only thing on his mind now. “I promise.”

Wally nodded, standing with a stretch to leave. And then he was gone in an instant. Roy continued to sit until Dick let out a sharp cough, and only then did the man stand with a grumble.

“Your brother would never betray me like this.”

“Jason adores her.”

“… You can’t make me like her.”

Dick sighed, shoving him out the door, “You don’t have to. She loves being hated. You’ll be doing her a favor.”

NOWELSLAND, MARYLAND

TWENTY YEARS AGO

12:00 PM

“You see the grains? Squint if you have to.”

The sun’s rays were beating down on her head as she watched the wheat sway back and forth with each breeze. The grassy patch of land across from the Atilla’s fields was warm, like a big, squeezing hug. Almost like her father’s voice beside her, where he lay, propped up on his elbows.

“I don’t think I can.”

Her hair had long ago fallen out of the ponytail her mother had lovingly secured with a bow. A ladybug now climbed up the end of a golden strand, and Mary looked down out of the corner of her eye.

It was awfully pretty, maybe Daddy would let her take it home.

“Mare-bear, are you paying attention?”

Dad’s voice was always calm and level. Everything about him was as natural as the swaying of the field. Mary turned her attention back to him, scooting closer with a shake of her head. He just laughed, engulfing her hand with his own to direct her eyes.

“Squint Mariam.”

So she did. And the world went from big and bright and full of so many things to just a couple. The field. The grains of the wheat. The little black dots that were climbing up and down and up and down. Like marching soldiers. There were a lot of bugs, and even at five, a farm kid knew that couldn’t be a good thing.

“Mr. Atilla’s not going to have a good harvest.”

Her father shook his head, brown eyes crinkling. Daddy looked at her like what she said was important, and that made her smile so big that it hurt.

“No, he’s not. Ben’s got wheat weevils, and he doesn’t even know it yet.” His eyes narrowed, and she copied the action, trying to see the world like he did, “Started at the west end of the field. See how that part looks the saddest. It’s long gone. Are we going to have a good harvest this year?”

Mary shrugged, flopping onto her back. A blue jay darted across the sky into a nearby tree, worm in its mouth, ready to feed its babies. She wondered what Mama would make for dinner.

“I dunno.”

“Well, let’s think. Do I catch all the bugs before they infest our trees? Mhmmm. Do I know when my trees get all sick and infected? Mhmmm.” Her father sat up, flicking her nose, following her eye line to the blue jays nest, “Would Dad ever risk having a bad harvest and leaving his little chick hungry?”

Mary shrugged once more before being picked up. Dad’s work boots crunched on the grass as they walked back to the car. She yawned, leaning against his shoulder, suddenly feeling very, very sleepy.

“Never. Dad would never, ever let something bad happen to you, Mary.”

The ground blurred beneath her as her eyes drooped. Dad’s chest rumbled as he continued to speak, patting at her mess of hair, “But one day you’re going to be all on your own. And the best thing I can give you is my attention.” Opening the door, he set her down into the back seat, her head falling to the side, “So tomorrow we’re going into town to watch people. Okay?”

Mary yawned once more, letting out a mumbled, “Okay”, before a kiss was pressed to her forehead. And then she fell asleep. Dreaming about soaring blue jays and dancing ladybugs.

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 7:00 AM

Between her work bag, the stack of files in her hand, keys, and a coffee she’d picked up from the break room, Mary had no spare fingers, let alone hands to answer her buzzing phone. 

God knew who it was. Mendez, Dick, Brookes, her mother? Balancing the coffee between her chin and her other arm, she unlocked her door, stepping inside with a groan. Her key went on the hook and bag on the kitchen chair as she answered the call.

“Hayes.”

“Hey Mare.”

The voice made her heart stop, and she fought the smile as she leaned against her island. Grabbing her go bag for Maryland could wait for just a moment. She had said in her profile that Goode wouldn’t bolt. 

“I know you’re busy coordinating with agents, but I wanted to let you know Bludhaven has cataloged all our evidence. Darnell is pulling Shelling in for a final witness statement the second he gets another psych eval. From our end, BPD has officially pulled a case against Holcomb.”

She sighed, tapping a heel against the floor. Staring ahead at the clock, the minutes ticked down, “That might be the best thing you’ve ever said.”

“I can think of something better.”

She was about to give a reaction to the sly comment when something on the floor caught her eye. Squinting, Mary could barely make out the grains in the carpet. Her nose twitched as she straightened, phone pressed to her shoulder. She’d vacuumed that morning right before she left. Straight even lines, where the vacuum has moved up and down over the carpet. 

But one of the lines was uneven, like someone had stomped over it. Her eyes screwed shut as she stepped behind the counter. The granite felt cold against the fingertips, grounding her as she thought. 

“Mary, are you paying attention?”

The voice sounded from both her memories and the present. Clashing so hard that her feet swayed and she forced herself to press even more firmly into the counter. She wasn’t paying attention, and that was the problem. 

Tell him. Tell him. 

Hang up. Use this opportunity. 

Tell him. 

“Dick. I need to call you back.”

“Everything okay?”

She stared at her bedroom door as it slowly creaked open. Evening her breath, she straightened her spine, holding her hands behind her back. 

“Yes. But I cannot finish this if I'm talking to you.” She hoped her voice sounded cold, even if it broke her heart to do so. “I’ll call you back.”

As the door completely opened, she reached to press the bright red end call button, finger hovering. The sight in front of her made her stomach drop, and she shut her eyes again, sending a prayer above. Hand faltering, she softened her voice as she cut him off with a final, “I love you.”

GOTHAM CITY - GCPD HEADQUARTERS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 6:30 AM

Mendez didn’t even glance at the rocking horse paperweight this time. He sat one leg hooked over the armrest, massaging his temples in the chair across from Lawrence’s desk.

“For the last time, Harry. Kids don’t say things outright. At 7, they’re just barely rationalizing things.” Loosening his tie, the former FBI agent ignored his supervisor’s protest, “So sign the documents and use my analysis as their statement. I don’t like kids testifying.”

Mary could feel her hands heating up. Lawrence looked over like she was an oddity he could unravel in a moment's glance. Maybe he could. 

“You’re not a lawyer Daniel.”

“I can threaten a lawyer pretty well.”

Mary sighed, pacing beside the string board that spanned one length of the office wall. Harold Lawrence wasn’t a hands off kind of boss, but she hadn’t realized just how much he followed their cases. All their cases. Her own was in the far corner, Parker’s face staring back at her. Beside him was a bright red circle emphasizing the words “Low intelligence” and an off-branch questioning, 'Wiped footage?'

“Ah. You’ve found the missing piece.”

Lawrence didn’t smile. Mary wasn’t sure if he was even capable of the action. But his eyes did spark with something that reminded her of looking in a mirror. “The crux of this case is loyalty. Small town cases are always like this.” Tapping his pen against the desk, the old man stopped as Mendez joined in. 

“It’s the same idea in big cities with organized crime. Loyalty means once you narrow down the source you don’t look outside it.”

Mary crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. She scrunched her nose with an eye roll, “Thank you for the lesson, but I already got my degree. It means whoever helped Holcomb is from Nowelsland.”

Mendez’s eye darted between his partner and supervisor for a moment before he tossed his leg back onto the ground, grabbing a piece of paper off the desk. “Who from your hometown could wipe footage of Hayes?”

Mary narrowed her eyes, only one name coming to mind, “Someone who’s been Holcomb’s friend for a long time. Who’s scared of what he’s become but is incapable of separating past from present.”

She sighed as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. With a quick nod to Lawrence, she pushed her way out the door, “Which means I’ve got to make a quick call to my cousin.” 

It took her a few short moments to push to the rooftop of GCPD headquarters. It wasn’t her usual spot; rooftops in general weren’t her thing. But with the entire building buzzing, it was one of the quietest locations.

Her phone rang a few times before a hesitant voice asked, “Yes?”

Mary had gotten good over the years at mimicking her dad’s affectionate tone, especially when it came to talking with family. Lowering her voice, she answered with a quick, “Hey, Grace, it’s Mariam.”

“Mary?” A shuffle cut her off, as something was being pushed aside, “Aces, hold on a minute my cat’s jumping like crazy.” And pause before a breathless, “Is Aunt Em okay?”

Looking down from this height made her stomach drop, and she took a large step back to the middle of the roof. Running a hand through her hair, Mary waited for a moment before replying, “She’s fine. I do need your help with something and I need to preface with that you are not in trouble.”

Grace was loyal. The down-to-earth, would give her shirt off her back while judging you type of loyal. After Kristy’s death she’d become even more attached to town. It’s people more than the physical location. Despite moving to Metropolis, every cataloged moment of her life was with someone from Nowelsland. 

Mary wouldn’t be surprised if her cousin had no other friends besides those from childhood and her cat. So the likelihood that she erased the footage without asking questions was incredibly high. Incredibly stupid. But also very likely. It didn’t make things right, but at least her cousin hadn’t been completely aware she was an accessory to murder.

“Why would I be in trouble? Mary, you're scaring me.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” When have those words ever calmed anyone down? Mary pounded on her forehead as she continued, “But I do think it’s in your best interest to come to Gotham. Today ideally.”

“Mariam …”

“Grace, I think at worst you're a witness to something. And the good thing is you don’t know what that something is.”

This conversation was a crash and burn. A complete, horrible, smoldering crash and burn. This call needed to be transferred to an expert. Someone good at making people comfortable, not interrogating them. 

There was silence on the other hand, followed by the yowling of the cat. Pounding once more on her head with her palm, Mary forced an overly cheery tone, “Can I at least have you talk to my partner over the phone?” 

She forgot to breathe until a reluctant word of approval was given, and she was immediately running back into the building and into Lawrence’s office, startling Mendez as she shoved the phone in his face. 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 7:15 AM

Devolution was a strange thing to see up close.

Reading about it in textbooks didn’t reveal much about an unraveling killer. Emotional instability coming from external pressure resulted in almost manic-like behavior. Except forensic psychologists weren’t recommended to use the word mania unless correlating it to clinical evidence. That’s what they told her in her masters program.

Cut and dry. Unlike the trickle of blood staining Grace Moroney’s gray top. 

Her job was anything but cut and dry. To the rest of the world it verged on the border between science and a parlor trick. Profilers could say almost anything, as long as they had enough evidence and gusto. Because at the end of the day people like her were the ones looking people like Parker Holcomb in the eye as the spark in their eyes verged on something inhuman. 

Grace had stopped struggling in Parker's arms. But there was still life in those cloudy eyes. The jagged “N” on her wrist was bleeding more profusely than the stab wound to her abdomen. She’d never taken anatomy, but Mary had to assume that meant nothing vital had been hit. Thank god-

“No!”

The knife slid in and out once more. Her cousin screamed and Mary could only force herself to stay behind the counter. Distance was an advantage. Talking was her upper hand and she could only talk with something separating them. 

Devolution was the only way to describe what she was seeing. Regressing so far back into those primal instincts that any innate compassion, decorum, or logical thought was lost. In the process serial killers became sloppy and got caught. This was the third time in her career she’d seen it in real time. It was the first time it was happening in front of her. 

There was a loud shudder from Grace as the knife bit deeper against her throat, a drop of ruby blood hitting Mary’s cream carpet a few inches away from the soaked spot under her feet. She frowned, the granite of her kitchen counter no longer cold with how long she’d had her hands splayed against it. 

“Parker…”

She kept her tone even despite the loud “SHUT UP” that was yelled back. Mary tried again, voice laced with warning. He was too far gone. 

39, 50, 18 N 77 …. 

Stupid. A truly dense riddle. Narcissists always thought they were so smart. But the point of a riddle was that it could be figured out, and the idiot hadn't considered that. There were only two people on the planet with the tools necessary to understand that the "N" didn't stand for north. And Nathan Hayes wasn’t on this case. Goode hadn’t even targeted Hayes family with this elaborate plot. Her mother had never done him wrong, Mary had been a nuisance but nothing more, and her father had been the only person perceptive enough to warn the doctor about Jane before her death. 

No. Goode just thought the world revolved around him, that most people would think like him. It was just plain luck that little Mariam Allison Hayes was the detective who stumbled onto the case.

“Stupid.”

Grace stared at her wide-eyed, mouthing at her to stop. Mary simply tucked a strand of her behind her ear, shaking her head as Parker turned red, pointing the knife every which way. It caused a splatter on her white wall. 

“What did you say?"

“I said this is stupid.”

“Do you want to die?”

Mary licked her lips, “You’re not going to kill me, Parker.” She cut off his retort, “I’m the only person who’s going to be able to play this game. How’s Goode going to feel if you kill the one person who is going to notice?”

“I’ll kill her.”

“You’re already killing her Parker. You have no advantage.”

Grace sobbed and Mary took a deep breath. Holcomb’s hand was shaking; that was a good thing. He wasn’t feeling regret, but he was feeling fear and she could use fear. Stepping around the counter she raised both hands. 

“Police are raiding your house right now.” One step after another, she kept her eyes trained on his. They used to be green like fresh blooms, now they burned like acid. Envy and insecurity were a poison that corroded its vessel. “Let me give you an advantage.”

One manicured hand reached for her cousin's limp arm. Grace was much taller than her, and her extra weight made running no longer an option. Had it ever been an option?

“Don’t—.”

Her blouse had been the color of the sky, of unfurling blue bells. Blue. Her sleeve had been blue. 

“I’m one of you.” The words hurt like a sore throat. Raw and inflamed. Anger boiled under her fluttering pulse. And Grace kept growing heavier. “Let me help.”

Parker paused and clarity passed through his eyes. He was seeing a ghost. Maybe two. 

Kristy’s spirit lived in the blown out hair. The way her blouse was ironed despite the blood on her sleeve. Her perfect posture. But the words. The whine in her tone. That was the same little girl who used to cry, “Let me play!”

Parker’s ‘God’ had killed both. What a legacy to live by. 

“He doesn’t love you, you know. The level of narcissism he has doesn’t allow him to love anyone.” Pulling the limp woman further behind her, Mary widened her eyes in what she hoped was earnest, “Doesn’t stop him from being brilliant. A lot of brilliant people have the disorder.”

“Like you.”

There was still something in Parker that watched her with intrigue. Whether it was lust or genuine adoration didn’t matter. What mattered was gaining his warped idolatry. 

“Maybe.” She shrugged languidly, pushing Grace onto her couch. She looked so pale, skin almost tinged blue against her auburn hair, “What do you think?”

“I don't …”

“Do you want me to think for you? I’m pretty good at it.” Sitting on the edge of her couch, she held her shaking fingers in her hand, “I know how Goode thinks. I know what you think. I know how the cashier down the street thinks. I’m brilliant. 39, 50, 18, N … that’s for Nowelsland. You weren’t going to kill those kids before killing someone from Nowelsland. I know because I’m brilliant, not him.”

She wanted to throw up the way she was being looked at right now. Parker bit his lip stepping forward and she prayed he stopped. The prayer was answered as he reached to pull his hair in frustration. The realization that he’d picked the wrong one hit hard. That this path was so completely avoidable if he’d thought just for a moment. 

“Even you can’t fix this.”

“Can’t I?” She nodded towards Grace and then herself, “Let the FBI take down Goode, they’re already on their way. Gracie can wipe away that we were ever here. Then … we can run away.”

Parker accepted the lie, hook line and sinker. 

“This city isn’t just crawling with cops looking for you. You saw how protective Nightwing was. That’s how all the Bat’s are with their officers. They’ll break you Parker, quite literally break you. But not if you listen to me, if you leave with me. I’m smarter. I’m better.”

Another bold faced lie. She’d never be better but pretending to be wasn’t too hard. Especially to someone who had spent most of his life in Metropolis. 

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Mary. I made people kill people. And then I killed them.”

Holcomb wasn’t regretful. He was scared for his ass. Terrified, his face had grown pale, hair spiking in all directions. Mary had to force herself to swallow the bile in her throat.

“Doesn’t matter because you're one of us. You just got a little mad at Grace because she wanted to go to the police after I called her. That’s okay, it was just a lil miscommunication.” Standing, she walked backwards slowly to where her phone still sat. A string of unanswered messages, first from Dick and then Mendez lit up the screen. Shaking her head she held up the phone slowly, “You love Gracie. And she helped you so much, just like Kristy would have. Just like I am now. Don’t let Goode ruin Kristy for you. Don’t let him kill another one of your friends, Park.”

Parker blinked once, and Mary hit a home run as she said, “Goode didn’t even love his own daughter. He used her as a rationale for murder. He won’t help you now.”

Bingo for Hayes. 

Parker nodded to the phone, “Who-”

“A nurse. You know HIPAA, don’t you.” There was another shallow nod, “She’s going to tell us exactly how to fix Gracie. Then we’ll go home, and my dad will hide us. Just until this blows over

GOTHAM CITY - MENDEZ RESIDENCE

PRESENT DAY - VAL

JUNE 24th, 7:30 AM

“And you really okay sending her to Maryland all by herself?” Valeria Mendez bit her lip, shutting the linen closet with her hip, “She's little Daniel. What if-”

Pulling off her scrub top, she tossed it into the hamper, eyes down turned as she catastrophized the worst. Her husband's usual wild laugh came from the other end. After a 12-hour shift it was a well welcomed noise. 

“Mi vida. She’s not a child, she's 25”, he talked over her as she insisted that yes 25 year olds were in fact still babies, “Val, my love, I promise you she’s not going to get in any trouble on her way to her own home, where the FBI are probably crawling already. Mariam’s a big girl, even if she was in trouble, she can talk her way out of it.”

Mariam Hayes could probably talk her way out of Arkham. It didn’t stop the growing pit in her stomach that something absolutely positively wrong was happening. 

“I just don’t-” Her train of thought trailed as the very topic of conversation popped onto her screen, “Oh.”

The sound of two joyful young voices was heard on the other end as her husband was asked once more to “spin us around on the spinny chair super fast”. He obliged and Val shook her head, “I’m glad you're working so hard.”

“I am, and the girls are going to get juice boxes later and talk about how ‘weird’ Mr. Holcomb is. Right, ladies?” There were two simultaneous cheers as Daniel cleared his throat, “Is Mariam calling?”

“Mhmmm.”

“See. Nothing's wrong.” Another joyful shriek hit her ears and she couldn’t help but smile, “Keep me on the line, but don’t tell her. I want to see if she’ll complain about me.” 

Val simply shook her head, pulling on her pajama top, before answering the call, “Hi, baby.”

There was a pause of silence so unlike the girl she knew, “Hey. I’m in a bit of a pickle. Are you somewhere private?”

The pit in her stomach dropped, dread filling her completely, “Yeah-yeah I’m just home. I finished my twelve. Whats-”

“A twelve?” Mariam’s laugh was the fakest she’d ever heard, “You’re going to hate what I have to ask. But I’m in Bludhaven right now and … I was following a lead and you know I push too hard sometimes. And then Nightwing showed up and - I can’t explain it now but there’s a lot of blood. NOT MINE, don’t freak out. I just … I need you to walk me through how to stop some bleeding.”

Sitting up immediately, hand over her chest, Val was sure her heart was going to give out. Mariam didn’t laugh like that and she most certainly didn’t talk like that. She talked slowly and deliberately, each word carefully chosen. Nothing about what she’d just heard was deliberate. Daniel heard it too if the text's popping up on her screen were any confirmation.

"Just act normal.”

“Don't you dare say your name. Give your medical advice and end the call.” 

“Get up. Lock the door. GCPD is monitoring.

The text kept coming, and Mary kept talking, and it felt like the room was getting hot and stuffy even though she was the only one there. Panic coursed through her, searing in her bloodstream.

“What kind of wound?”

“Stab.”

“Valeria. Lock. The. Door.”

One hand over her mouth, she stood. Then she pressed it to her eyes where tears were already falling. She hated this. So, so, so much.

“Are you still there?” Mary’s tone was tinged with panic, and it made the tears fall faster. 

Her “yes” was far too shaky to appear normal and Val sniffed, “Sorry, you just scared me. Yeah baby, I’m still here. Do you have gauze?”

BLUDHAVEN - BPD PRECINCT 

PRESENT DAY - DICK 

JUNE 24TH, 7:40 AM

Dick wasn’t going to question how Mendez had his number. After the cold shoulder Mary was suddenly giving him he was just glad he did. He just needed some confirmation that she’d made it to Maryland safe-

“Is Mariam in Bludhaven?”

In the short time he’d known him, Dick had seen Mendez’s usual insane self. He’d seen him angry. He’d seen him as a stern partner to Mary when she lost her footing. 

Hearing Mendez be scared, however. That was new. 

That made his chest tighten as he nodded to Rohrbach, leaving his desk for an empty conference room. Something in him told him he needed to sit down as he answered the question. 

“Not that I know. She told me she needed to focus-”

Mendez’s shoes hit the tile floor with sharp clacks as he paced, breathing ragged, “Do you people have like a Nightwing signal or something. Does he patrol by day? What's his deal, what’s his schtick."

Dick frowned, checking to make sure he hadn’t missed any texts from Mary. Any indication that she might make a stop in his city. There was no sign of her besides the lingering “I love you”. Three words that sounded far too definitive now. 

Like some sort of ending. 

“No. Nightwing's not out now. I can assure you of that.”

“God damn it Mariam.” Mendez groaned, the sound of him breathing into his hands preceding his next words, “I am not losing a partner-”

Dick's blood ran cold, and his words felt like cotton in his mouth, “Daniel. What’s going on.”

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 8:00 AM

There was blood on her hands. Lots of it. But by the third blood pressure check that Val had guided her through Grace’s breathing had evened out. Parker, despite it all, had actually been helpful with his EMT training coming in good use. Now, if she stalled just enough. Maybe, just maybe, someone would arrive. There were still more than six hours until nightfall. Maybe she could get a recorded confession out of him.

“Okay, she’s stable. We need to go.” Parker grabbed at her arm harshly, enough that she squeaked in protest, “You said you’d hide me.”

“We should wait until she wakes up. So she knows the rest of the plan.”

“No. Don’t be stupid, Mariam.” Another tug, Mary took a deep breath, stepping back hard enough to pull herself free, “We’ll write down instructions for her. Come here.”

The knife that had been stashed in his pocket was out again, being touted around like some sort of pointer. Mary pursed her lips, words jumbling as she tried to figure out how to spin the situation. 

“Maybe you should come clean?”  That would get her stabbed. He’d take that as a betrayal. 

Should she try again to get him to stay until Grace woke up? He'd just say she was a stupid woman who couldn't follow instructions. He’d either kill her here or lock her in the trunk to do God knew what while on the run. Dying in the subsequent police chase would likely be her best outcome. 

Willing accomplice it was. 

“Or … we could pin it on her.” 

Parker’s head shot up, a dark look in his eyes. He motioned to her to continue. 

“Grace would take the fall for both of us. We just have to make it look like she did it.” She glanced around the room. If they left this apartment, evidence needed to be left behind. A clue for whoever found it first of the truth first. “We lay low until you’re not a suspect and then …”

“Then we can be together. Normally.” Parker grinned, like he’d actually somehow gotten away with murder, “Ace’s that’s genius, Hayes.”

Mary nodded, barely registering the words. Her eyes flitted over her apartment, looking for something she could leave a sign or clue. Either Mendez or Dick would be the first to notice she was gone. But Mendez wouldn’t check on her, not with the fact that he thought she was states away. Dick would try to make it from Bludhaven, but that short drive would be too long now. 

Still … Richard Grayson was a smart man. A smart man with a lot of siblings who owed him a lot of favors. And if he asked one of those siblings to just ‘stop by Mary’s apartment,’ well, the first thing they’d do is swing by the window right behind her ….

“How do we do this exactly?”

Parker tore her out of her musings, and she shook her head, holding her hand out for the knife. It felt cold and foreign against her skin. The closest thing she’d ever held was a box cutter or her kitchen set. 

“Like this.”

Dick’s hands were scarred. Beautiful constellations that were proof of the people he’d saved. She’d never thought about how much it hurt to be cut on the hand. It made sense … a paper cut hurt like the devil. She let out a welp, slicing the three lines into the meat of her palm to make up the letter “N”. Deep enough, her hand was slick in an instant. The man before her watched with predatory interest. 

Mary would be the first to admit she wasn’t used to pain. She enjoyed her cushy desk job. She enjoyed avoiding the chance of being shot or stabbed. Her eyes now prickled now at the burning sensation. 

“We’ll just make me a potential victim.” Placing her hand against the window, she pulled down, leaving a bloody handprint, “That thankfully got away because you saved her.”

“And then we hid because we thought Grace would come get ya?”

“Mhmmm.” Mary closed her eyes, heart pounding. The plan was so stupid that only someone like Parker would believe it. No wonder he’d been so easily manipulated by Goode. “We’ll go to the police once this all dies down. It’ll all be okay.”

The words were just as much of an assurance to herself as they were to him. She'd make everything right. 

“No.”

“No?” Mary paused, stepping carefully around the subject. Devolution was a slippery slope to play with. 

“No, it can’t be okay. They’ll-” Paranoia was setting in again, and she was running out of time, “No, it won’t. You can’t outsmart Batman, you can’t. He’s going to get me.”

“You’re okay.” She looked down at her hand, pressing down on the cuts with her finger. Val had told her just minutes ago that pressure was good, “You’re just nervous. Let me do the thinking-”

“No. You’re not smarter than him.” Mary cursed under her breath, about to turn around when he pressed up against her, “You’re just pretty, and it makes my head mushy. No-no…Goode will … Goode will know what to do.”

Where had she screwed up? The suggestion of using Grace as a scapegoat? Calling Val? Mentioning the Bats earlier? She had to think, but her palm hurt like - Oh god. Her reflection stared back at her, and she saw herself the way Parker saw her. Her whole life, she’d tried to emulate Kristy, and she’d failed. Except with one person, because Parker didn’t see her when he looked at her. He saw Nowellsland's perfect girl. 

Nowelsland’s perfect girl, who was now bleeding. Who was willing to throw one of their own under the bus. The illusion had shattered because Kristy Atilla had died perfectly inside and out. Mary wasn’t perfect, which meant she couldn’t be brilliant. A woman couldn’t be brilliant, but the good doctor could.

“If Parker Holcomb feels the pressure sinking in, he’s going to do exactly what he’s been told. He’s going to finish Goode’s mission quickly. We’re looking at full devolution.”

Blowing out a breath of air, Mary blinked, watching Parker behind her head, buried into the crook of her neck, arms around her waist. She could fix this. This was salvageable. It had to be because now that she’d marked herself with that “N,” …. he’d never lay a hand on Kristy, but she doubted there was any hesitancy to kill Mariam Hayes. Not if it meant completing his mission. 

She pulled the curtains over the window, patting his head with a soft smile. Her voice hummed softly. 

“Okay, you lead the way. We’ll do whatever you want.” Turning slowly, she channeled every ounce of someone long gone, “See, I’ve already stopped bleeding. Now we can-NO!”

A hand reached for the metal in her pocket, and she covered it as much as she could with the body pressed against her. Parker’s look of determination meant one thing. He realized he was cornered. And if she couldn’t help him, and Goode couldn’t help him. Well … most cornered animals bit before going out. 

Murder suicide. How lovely, how unique.

That was her first thought as she struggled. Pressing herself against the window to get a leg up, to jab her heel wherever it could land. 

She hoped Bruce found her body. 

That was the second thought as she realized just how much stronger the small man was compared to her. His grip was like a vice, smacking her head once against the pane in frustration at her struggling. Gasping, she saw stars as the knife in her hands was ripped away. As it came down, the only thing she could think of was blue and sunshine and anger. Righteous anger. The kind that gave Lady Justice meaning. 

With one final ear-splitting shriek, she flailed uselessly, twisting enough to step back. Her heel hit a slick pool of blood, the dizzying momentum throwing her onto her back with a sharp crack. Her breathing felt ragged and tore through her lungs, but she’d never been stabbed before. Maybe it was supposed to feel like falling off a dumpster at Gotham Bay. Parker stood, mouth agape, swaying slightly. At least he felt regret before … her hands reached down, touching her abdomen, her chest, everywhere the knife had been. 

There was nothing. 

Parker crumpled in front of her. 

“Oh god. Oh - Oh my god.” In an instant, she was crawling, her slacks picking up everything on the floor, leaving behind a smear, “I- Please - God.”

The knife was still lodged straight into his stomach. Had she pushed it in before falling? Had his hand slipped. She couldn’t remember; her brain felt like static. She’d never killed someone before. Had she killed someone?

“Mariam ..” One deep breath, “Mariam, focus.”

Another breath and her mind felt clearer. The only thing she knew was that Parker had killed people. Far too many people, though her brain couldn’t think of the number. Maybe she’d hit it so hard she was having a brain bleed. Then there would be three bodies found in her apartment. She hoped Di- … No.

With one final breath, she was standing, crossing the room to grab her phone and recording device. Footprints marked her every path as she came back to sit in front of Parker, whose chest was heaving. Tears slipped from his eyes into his ears as he gargled out, “I’m sorry.”

Mary ignored him, forcing herself to stop shaking to notate the date and her badge number. She was getting a damn confession. If he wasn’t going to rot in prison, he was going to die guilty. 

“I’m sorry, Haysey .. Grace.”

“It’s a little late for regret. Make it right.” Voice cold, Mary narrowed her eyes, “Don’t ask for absolution. Do something right.”

“I’m going to die.”

She paused her recorder. Internal affairs could question her all they wanted on the missing footage, but she was saying her peace. The words were bitter, and they didn’t feel right, but she said them anyway. 

“I’m not going to try to save you, Parker.”

An ambulance wouldn’t come in time, and even if it did, she wouldn’t have the strength to call one. Parker Holcomb was going to die in her living room, but not until she got what she wanted. The click of her recorder starting again made that final. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

The green in his eyes was tinged with red. He looked like a scared child. The only sympathy Mary felt was for Elizabeth Holcomb. No one deserved to bury their kid like the Butlers had … like the Atillas had.

“Absolutely not.” Mary glared down, and Parker shut his eyes, reaching for the knife. There was a sharp sound as she smacked the hand away. There was no way she’d let him speed up the process, “But I’ll stay with you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” She replied, pulling out her phone, “Call your dad and start talking.”

Chapter Text

July 24th, 3:00 PM

For the love of god, can you please pick me up?

July 24th, 3:05 PM

Ah, so you've all just forsaken me, I see.

GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR

FRESHMAN YEAR - JASON 

DECEMBER 2nd, 7:00 PM 

“I’ll get it!” carried throughout the entire manor as socked feet raced to the front door. 

Snow was piling into tall banks, and the boy could see that the driveway was already covered despite being cleared about an hour ago. Shivering, he looked up at the irate girl standing before him as the warmth from inside leaked out. At least her mood matched the sour one inside. 

“Hey Jay, can I come in?”

Mary’s arms were crossed, but her face had morphed into something kinder as she spoke. It was nice, but she was always nice to him. It didn’t stop her from tapping her feet and scanning the manor behind him. Mary was annoyed, which meant one thing … his brother was about to get an earful. 

Dick’s earlier warning not to let Mary in lingered in his head as he opened the door, letting her escape the cold. 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He watched as she stamped the snow off her feet a little too harshly, “Hayes is here!”

A deafening thud rang through the foyer, loud enough that Alfred let out a warning from the kitchen. Dick stood frozen at the top of the stairs, arms still outstretched as if to pick up the box. He remained that way as Mary stalked up to the staircase, hands on her hips, eyes throwing daggers. 

“Pretty full box. You going somewhere?”

The tone was full of accusation. The petty words of a friend who felt blindsided. 

“Here, let me help you.” There was a sharp crack of boot meeting wood as Mary took a step up the stairs, “It’s not like you’re moving or something.”

Jason watched in pure, unadulterated joy as his brother attempted to simultaneously compose himself and diffuse the situation. It was what he deserved after taking the last roll at dinner. Dick sputtered out some excuse, and Mary raised an eyebrow, but her cheeks were as pink as her scarf, and her arms had never become uncrossed.

“You can’t understand. I need to get out of here.”

“Can’t understand? What? Being stuck in a place that’s practically suffocating? Sure, yeah, I totally don’t understand that.”

Dick raked a hand through his hair, adjusting his hold on the box as Mary rummaged through it, clearly unimpressed by his packing choices, “If you’re moving out, you need to bring all your clothes, not just the ones you like. Being independent means not crawling back for - Why would you think I wouldn’t understand?”

Jason frowned as Mary dropped a pair of well-worn Superman pajamas back in the box with a scoff, unbuttoning her coat just the slightest. He was having trouble gauging just how mad the woman actually was, and judging by the look of confusion on Dicks face, he wasn’t the only one.

“Because on every conceivable level, you can’t understand Mary. This isn’t something normal people understand.” Dick swatted at her hand as she tried to check the box again, pushing out the words as if they hurt, “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’d never seen you more excited than when we made all those plans for next semester-”

“And that’s why I’m annoyed! Because why the hell would you think I’d be mad about that? You need to leave great. I can’t stop you from doing what you think is right. But at least tell me! Have the decency to-”

“I’m moving to Bludhaven.”

“Well established at this point, Golden Boy.” Mary rolled her eyes, “Did you tell anyone else? Did you bring this up to poor Jason?” Holding up a finger, she leaned to call down the stairs, “Did he give you a proper goodbye?”

Jason shrugged as Dick hissed down at him about eavesdropping. Scuffing his foot into the carpet, he reluctantly climbed up the stairs towards Mary’s wagging finger.

“It’s one thing to try and disappear on me. But poor Jason … Jay, you gotta pout or something, make him feel bad.” With a pair of arms settled on his shoulders, protecting him from his older brother’s glare, the boy jutted out his lip, “Now go to his room and take whatever you want as a consolation prize.”

“Don’t you dare.” Dick sighed once more as he saw Bruce rounding the corner, tossing the man an icy glare.

“Good evening, Mariam. Are you staying for dinner or just here to be the voice of reason?”

Bruce hadn’t even had time to loosen his tie after being in meetings all morning, but his gaze was still the steely one he wore on the streets. It kept teetering between flashes of anger and total blankness. Jason glanced between the three adults as Mary didn’t miss a beat.

“Hi, Mr. Wayne. Just stopping by.” She held her hands clasped behind her back, squeezing her wrist every few seconds, “I might take Jason out if that’s alright.”

Bruce’s eyes flickered up to Dick before humming a response, gaze blazing as he tore his attention away from his son before stalking into the kitchen. Mary finally unclasped her hands, bumping Dicks shoulder, “He cares.”

“He does not. Maybe he cares about his image-”

“He cares, Dick. It’s practically written on his face, the poor man’s sick to his stomach at the thought of losing either of you.” Ruffling Jason’s hair, she exchanged several expressions with Dick that the boy honestly couldn’t decode. By the end of the brief, silent exchange, his brother was rocking on the balls of his eyes, feet asking hesitantly. 

“So you’re not mad?”

Mary tilted her head, thinking as she reached into her coat pocket, “Oh, I’m mad. 30 minutes isn’t so far that you need to cut everyone out of your life.” Placing a five-dollar bill and her keys into Jason’s hands, she shooed him off. “But I’ve assumed you’ve learned your lesson or are in the process of a huge personal discovery. So if you promise to start communicating, I might just forgive you.”

“Deal”, Jason rolled his eyes as the two shook on it like a bunch of cornballs, “Let me finish packing up, and I’ll get hot chocolate with you two.”

Bright gray eyes and a scrunched nose met Jason’s as he headed down the stairs. Mary’s presence was never particularly warm, but since the moment he’d met her, she’d always made him feel important.

“No, you didn’t earn hot chocolate. Let me peek and see what you’ve got so far and then Jay and I are heading out.” With a flourish, she urged him off, “Go start the car, dude. We’ll be freezing before we get there.”

Jumping the last few steps down, Jason nodded, about to rush off to find his coat. Still, he lingered the last few seconds listening back upstairs. The young adults’ voices were much more serious as Mary chided, “You need to talk with Bruce before you leave, or you’ll regret it.”

“No, I won’t,” Dick whined, and he could hear Mary’s twinkling laugh before she went completely serious again. 

“Yes, you will. Don’t leave things unfinished.”

Jason strained to hear Dicks response. There was a long pause as he stepped one foot onto the stairs, flinching as two sets of voices called out, “Seriously, go, Jason.”

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 10:15 AM

Parker Holcomb died at 9:34 that morning after confessing to his father everything, including his accomplice. 

Mendez was breaking down her door at 9:40, a breathless look of pure terror on his face before pulling her to her feet. 

At 10:00, Grace Moroney was loaded onto a stretcher and driven to the nearest hospital. One of the EMTs had gazed at her like she was something pathetic, commenting that she’d done decent work considering the circumstances. 

Five minutes later, her apartment was swarming with GCPD, and she was once again reminded that 30,000 people did, in fact, work for the city’s police department. It took Mendez fifteen minutes, a lot of yelling, and several select unprofessional choices of words to get internal affairs off Mary’s back for the next twelve hours. 

And by 10:15, she found herself sitting on the back of an ambulance, shoulders covered by the ugliest blanket she’d ever seen in her life. It was also the same time that he arrived, car sputtering to a crooked stop, door slamming open.

Mary did the mental calculation as a pair of frantic blue eyes met her own tired, bloodshot ones. Fifteen minutes. It had taken him fifteen minutes to arrive from a police department that on a good day was 35 minutes away. And then he was crouching beside her, and the blood on her sleeve didn’t matter, and the blanket didn’t feel so uncomfortable. Because he was there and she was alive and he was there. 

Mary shut her eyes against the pressure in her head as soft lips grazed over her temple and cheeks and nose, and the bandage wrapped against her palm. They lingered there, with a silence heavy enough that she had to force her eyes open to meet the searing gaze looking up at her. Dick ran his fingers over the wrapping in silent questioning, watching from below his lashes, only sitting up with concern when she pursed her lips, the morning rushing back to her. 

It took her a moment to exhale, shaking her head just the slightest. But Dick knew, he always knew, because he could see through her like she saw through the world. And then the words tumbled out before she could even think because she couldn’t imagine leaving things the way they were. 

“I need to leave.” 

GOTHAM CITY - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 10:15 AM

At 9:34, Dick felt a sudden dread, like the world was connecting and crumbling simultaneously before him. His partner had knocked sharply on the conference room door as he tried Mary’s number for the third and final time. Mendez was calling him at 9:50, and he was already out of his seat, pushing past Amy to get to the parking lot. She’d followed him there, hands on her hips as she reminded him he was on thin ice for his attendance already. 

At 10:00, he’d pressed his badge into her hand, thanking her once last time for being the best partner a boy from Gotham could have ever had. Effective immediately, his career at Bludhaven PD ended before they let him ever try for detective. Dick couldn’t have cared less. 

It took him fifteen minutes of weaving through traffic to arrive in the city that had raised him and the city that had become hers. Fifteen minutes too late as GCPD flashing lights and ambulances surrounded the apartment that was supposed to smell like vanilla and lilacs. By 10:15, he was shifting the gear into park, throwing the door behind him as he scanned the crowd, vision locking onto the most lifeless version of familiar gray eyes he’d ever seen. Dick’s mouth dried as he realized he was too late; he hadn’t made it in time. 

The freezing in his bones only worsened as he knelt in front of her. Mary’s hands were cold despite the heat; there was blood on her sky blue blouse, and her left hand was compression wrapped. But the fluttering pulse beneath his thumb told him one thing. She was alive; he may have been too late, but she was alive despite it all. 

The words clung to his throat, refusing to come out, and so he reached up, pressing a kiss onto her forehead where he knew it was pounding and then onto her freckled cheeks and her perpetually scrunched nose. Those beautiful, knowing eyes of hers remained screwed shut until he reached down to kiss her bandaged palm, watching with bated breath as she finally met his gaze. 

What had occurred in her home wasn’t up for conversation; she needed time, space, and the opportunity to work. Mary thrived when she had the chance to compartmentalize, to shove all the bad that had happened into productivity. He could see it in the way she pressed her lips together, and her face became slightly panicked, like he might tell her to step down. But never in a million years would Dick even think of taking her from her work. In the same way, he knew she’d never ask him to hang up the mask. It took Mary five seconds to finally exhale, to come back to reality in the way he knew she always did to cope. 

Still, despite everything, it didn’t stop his heart from cracking as her calm voice told him, “I need to leave.”

NOWELSLAND - HAYES ORCHARDS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 2:30 PM

Nowelsland had a bad habit of never changing. Gotham was always evolving, always improving, tearing herself down only to rebuild again. It was her favorite part of the city, the fact that her day could change quite literally based on the flip of a coin. Home had become change, and comforting consistency had turned a stranger to her over the years. Still, there always existed a fear in the back of her mind that one day she’d never come back. 

Today was not one of those days. 

“Mariam?”

Stepping onto the gravel and shutting her car door behind her, Mary stared at a reflection of herself. Older and a bit more anxious, but still a damn good mirror. Her mother stood on the front porch, frowning at her like she might break, and Mary once again thanked Dick … for everything. He’d refused to let her leave without changing, fingers feathering over the blood on her sleeve before shoving past the cops in her apartment. 

Fiddling with the sleeve of the burgundy top he’d shoved into her hands, Mary opened her mouth to assure her mother she was fine. Terrible things happened every day, but she was fine now. She was fine-

“Mama”, the words came out hoarse and cracked, like she’d just fallen off her bike and scraped her knee. 

“Oh, Mariam.” She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her mom until she was wrapped in the small woman’s arms, and suddenly the whole world smelled like spring despite it being the height of summer. “I heard everything from the Moroneys’ and Sheriff Holcomb all morning. You don’t need to say anything.”

“Mama, I think I killed someone.”

Those words stayed shut inside. They had to stay shut inside. Closing her eyes, Mary could’ve allowed herself to be rocked back and forth like that forever, listening to her mom’s gossip like she had her entire life. But if she did nothing would change, and something needed to change. 

“Emily let her go”, her father’s voice glided through the air like silk, gentle enough not to stir even the air, “She’s dressed for work and she’s got a job to do. Don’t you, Mariam.”

Emily Hayes leaned back, wide eyes searching her face as she pushed the hair out of Mary’s face. But her mother had never been particularly good at reading emotions, and so with a ‘tsk’ she finally let her go. 

“She doesn’t have to. Detective Brookes is already at the Goode house.” Hands on her hips, a towel from wiping the counter still in her hands, the woman glanced up at her husband, “She could let it go this-”

“She can’t. This is something that she has to do.” With a smile, her father nodded to her, “Work before play. Finish what you started, Mary. Then she can tell us all about the boy she found.”

Mary clenched her jaw at the tail end of the words, avoiding her mother’s gaze. He knew, but of course he knew. The way the corners of his eyes shifted just the slightest as he watched her. Her father could see every bout of exhaustion and lingering terror around her; he could most certainly tell she hadn’t slept or eaten a proper meal in days, and somehow, he could see the knots in her stomach at leaving Dick behind. 

She’d said it once before, and she’d keep repeating it. Profiling was fun. Being profiled back was the worst feeling in the world. 

“You said Brookes is up the hill?”

“Been here for hours. Waiting for you if I had to venture an explanation.” 

Mary let out a slow breath, adjusting the cuff of her sleeve once more, “Why would he do that. He has to have heard the news.”

“Because this is your case, Mary. You get to finish it.”

GOTHAM - BURNLEY SQUARE APARTMENTS

PRESENT DAY - DICK

JUNE 24TH, 2:30 PM

Where Mary’s apartment had just nights ago smelt like garlic and butter, now there lingered the smell of drying blood and antiseptic. It smelled like something he owned, not the usual vanilla warmth and honeyed lilac scent that belonged to her. It smelled like his life as Nightwing had touched her and ruined it all. 

His jaw clenched to the point of pain as he stepped into the space, setting down the supplies in his hands. Eyes tracking the pools and streaks of blood, he could easily put the pieces of the morning together. He didn’t dare glance again at the handprint on the window because he knew just how well that hand fit into his. Instead, he looked at the streak on the floor that led to the spot where Holcomb had died. 

The crimson smear must have come from when she crawled to him. Mary would have considered every option before standing, footprints marked in red, to force him into a confession. He knew her well enough that she’d already decided in that moment that Holcomb wouldn’t survive. Mendez had confirmed it, one of the last cops to leave, while sitting beside Dick on the hood of the car. 

“It’ll be a wait for the M.E. to confirm, but it must have been some major artery he hit. It was too much blood, too quick.” Mendez had stared up at the sky, searching for an answer to how things had gotten so bad. “Hayes made the right call. Now I’ve got to convince internal affairs of the same thing.”

Dick was too well accustomed to violence; he knew Holcomb had been a dead man walking. Running on that much adrenaline, people already rarely survived a knife to the gut. A knife to the gut followed by immense shock … Well, that was a death sentence. 

And Mary would be blaming herself. She’d compartmentalize long enough to finish her role in Nowelsland, and then it would hit her. The regret. He’d felt it before. It wormed into a person’s brain, making them reconsider every possible option, every move that could have been rewritten. Dick had felt it so quickly, like a punch to the gut, that he’d thrown up the first time. The concept of being complicit in taking a life, even if it wasn’t by one’s hand, was utterly sickening. 

And he’d been a vigilante. Mary was a civilian; she was never supposed to be in this situation. What would that feeling do to her?

Swallowing the bile in his throat, Dick turned on the faucet, staring at the lilacs in her window. Almost everything had been ruined. Because in her kitchen window still hung the deceleration he’d pressed into her hands. A declaration that he was there to stay. Turning the water off, he moved quickly, dropping the bucket in front of the window as the door opened. Leather dress shoes padded softly across the space, sharp eyes soaking in the scene. Dick didn’t say anything, ringing out the soaking rag and dragging it across the glass. 

The clink of a watch worth more than the apartment itself and the rolling of sleeves were the only noises. Dick kept his back turned, methodically turning the white cloth pink before bending to rinse it out. 

Bruce hummed in thanks as he handed him the extra cloth, his father lowering himself to wipe up what was left of Parker Holcomb. Swiping at his nose with the back of his hand, Dick watched for a moment, unsure what to say. So he simply turned back to the window, staring out at the afternoon. They lived their lives in the dark. Had it ever occurred to them how much tragedy occurred in the light?

“How is she doing?”

Bruce’s voice was quiet, barely heard over the ringing of the rag as it darkened the water in the bucket further. Dick shrugged as he lifted it again, making his way to the kitchen to refill it. Mary’s window was now streaky, and he rummaged beneath the sink for some Windex. 

The streaks would make Mary’s brain crawl more than the blood ever would. 

“She’ll be okay, Dick.”

The life he led meant he had to be okay. Because there was always another crisis around the corner. The life they all led meant learning to hide the impact of the world’s worst on them. Mary hadn’t learned that luxury yet. She didn’t need to. Water sloshed out as he set the bucket down before joining Bruce on the floor. The older man huffed before locking him down with a glare. 

“She will be okay. You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t believe that.”

Twisting his neck to the side, Dick sniffed, shaking his head. The old man had a point, as infuriating as it was. Mary would insist on coming back to her home. She wouldn’t end her lease early. That would be admitting to letting the case get to her. His girl was too stubborn to let a killer haunt her. 

“She’s still going to think she did it.” Leaning against his heels, he held up his hands, “I would-”

Bruce raised a finger, pushing his sleeve back up with care, “She might for a moment. But Mariam’s not you, Dick.” Standing, the soles of his shoes squeaked against the wet flooring. “Did you bring hydrogen peroxide?”

“Should be on the counter.” 

Bruce nodded at his tired response before tackling the stain on the carpet. Dick couldn’t tell if it was Holcombs’, Mary’s, or Grace’s. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

“Mary isn’t bound to any code you follow. She’s not bound to any code any of us follow. If any of us fault a young woman for fighting to survive, I’m going to be very disappointed, Richard.” Dick narrowed his eyes as the spray bubbled against the carpet before Bruce rubbed harshly at it, “Be cautious but not to a fault. She’s been doing this job for a while, Dick, she knows the risks and how to handle them.”

The silence returned, more comfortable than before. Slowly, the pieces came back together. The space that had once been ruined now looked as it had before, minus the couch cushions that had been thrown in the wash. 

As the last dump of water circled down the drain, Bruce clipped his watch back on behind him, “Need a drink?”

Dick shook his head, hand running over the stack of files by the sink, “Nothing here to drink. She’s like you. She says she can’t live with her perception lowered.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched before he checked his phone. Dick’s own lit up from where he’d tossed it on the counter. A message from Damian in the group chat inquiring who would pick him up. 

“For what it’s worth, chum. You’re not bound to anything she follows, either. I think you two will be okay just following each other.” Dick paused, blood rushing as his father pocketed his things, “Take it from someone who’s messed it up before.”

Nodding, he stood rooted to the same spot as Bruce reached for the door to leave. 

“She left Dad.” Dick wasn’t sure why three words were so hard to say. But they physically hurt. 

Bruce paused, hand on the door, and then he had the audacity to smile. Dick glared in shock as his father let out a laugh, like he’d just gotten the best news he’d ever heard. Then, once more checking his phone and muttering about Damian, he finally responded. 

“She’ll come back. I’m expecting you both for Sunday dinner.”

Chapter Text

June 25th, 2:00 AM

Can you keep an eye on your brother for me?

NOWELSLAND - HAYES ORCHARDS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 2:45 PM

Mary hadn’t crossed the hill onto the Goode property since Kristy died. She’d always taken the long way around. Now she took the shortcut with purpose, tucking her hair behind her ears as she approached the two men sitting on Ben Atilla’s porch. 

Sheriff Holcomb looked destroyed. The man had made mistakes, but no one deserved the type of call he’d gotten that morning. Mary furrowed her brow in condolences as she took a seat on the porch stairs. A million years ago, she’d sat in the same spot with Brookes. Life had been shinier then, brighter. Now there stood a glimmer just out of reach at the other end.

“He’s not making a run for it. Didn’t a decade ago, won’t now.” Mary frowned as Agent Brooke’s knees cracked while he lowered himself beside her, “Narcissists tend to do that. They’re proud of their crimes.”

Brookes was still bald, head gleaming like before. Time had worn down the skin around his eyes and the smile lines of his mouth. Somehow, he’d managed to spend most of his life happy in a career rarely filled with joy. A more optimistic person, someone like Mendez, would see that as a sign of some kind. She wasn’t sure she could ever buy into it. 

“His whole worldview revolves around a lack of attention. Running won’t give him the eyes he wants. He’s waiting for someone to put the pieces together.” She could feel the agent’s eyes on her, trying to piece her together. Analyzing who she’d become. Mary sighed, stretching as she stood, “Are we waiting for more federal agents or …”

Keaton Holcomb could barely look her in the eye as he responded quietly, “That and his parole officer … He’ll go quietly.”

Mary nodded, narrowing her eyes at the home. She could feel their gaze on her, and she turned to meet it. “Can I go in?”

“In what context?”

Mary stood, back turned to the home, hands clasped behind her back. She gave an expectant nod, and Brookes grinned.

“Concerned neighbor?” A blue jay followed a lazy arc over their heads, sailing over the hill towards her parents’ orchard, “I want to say my peace.” 

NOWELSLAND - HAYES ORCHARDS

TWENTY-TWO YEARS AGO 

JULY 4TH, 8:00 PM

“Mariam, slow down”, Nathan Hayes shook his head, calling softly to the racing toddler. 

The poofy outfit and large hat hadn’t slowed her down like Emily had assured him. His wife had squealed when she’d shown him, large eyes shining in satisfaction while holding up the red-and blue-clad three-year-old. Now, hands tucked comfortably behind him, he took in the space as he walked behind his daughter, who, on wobbling legs, was attempting to make a sharp turn past the food carts. 

Someone had already burnt a batch of popcorn, and several teens were exchanging whispers that only meant trouble. It reminded him of his own teen years at the fair, which wasn’t surprising. His mother had once said that Nowelsland was a Sleeping Beauty town, that living there was like a perpetual sleep where nothing changed. 

As Mary let out a high-pitched, “Hi!” at one of the Rowens’ show chickens, he felt nothing but content at the thought. Her childhood would be the same as his, full of fall harvests and Fourth of July fairs. She was already showing signs of being too much like him, pointing out little details, always distracted by the things others glossed over … anywhere bigger than Nowelsland would be too much. 

“Now don’t go touching it.” Kneeling, he pushed one chubby hand away from the fence, “See how it’s already starting to tense up. Leave it -.”

Little pink shoes were already racing off, bored with his chiding. Standing with a groan, he made a move when, in the far-off corner of the space, a flicker caught his eye. Ben was standing, arms crossed, as he let a group of kids fawn over the small ring of horses he brought every year. Narrowing his eyes, Nathan let the world dim for a moment, focusing on a mare in the back, whose right ear twitched once more. 

That didn’t seem right. 

Taking two steps forward, he scooped a laughing Mary up into his arms. Ben now had his back turned, talking to a small crowd. Atilla never paid much mind to his horses, and he usually didn’t have to. He trained them well. But the sky was beginning to overcast as the wind picked up, and there was the wafting smell of fireworks being set up lingering in the air. It was all just enough to begin getting on the youngest horse’s nerves.

The ticks came in beats, especially if someone laughed a little too loudly or the trees shook just enough. Enough that it could cause trouble if no one caught on. Especially with kids crowding around the ring. Nathan shook his head again, scanning the crowd before making his way towards the lemonade carts. 

“Take her, Em.” Shifting her drink to the other hand and cautiously placing Mary on her hip, his wife frowned in concern, “I’m serious, don’t put her down.”

“Everything okay?” Emily peered around him in an attempt to find the source of his concern, pouting when she saw nothing. 

“Will be”, came the terse reply before he was pushing past the crowd towards his best friend, now engrossed in conversation with Christopher Goode. He wanted that horse pulled out as soon as possible before the fireworks started lighting. 

Ben nodded in earnest at his warning, swearing he’d do it as soon as possible before turning his attention to where his daughter was tugging at his pants. Nathan nodded, stepping away, before something caught his attention again. 

“Chris, you should tell Janey to steer clear, too. She keeps trying to sneak behind the horses.” Pointing at the young girl, he side-eyed the man, “Better safe than sorry.”

The doctor simply rolled his eyes, moving towards where another child had skinned their knee, “I’ll keep an eye on her. You people should watch your own children.” 

And that should have been the end of it. 

He made sure Ben took care of the nervous mare just in time to watch the fireworks with his own family. Bouncing Mary, Emily scanned the sky carefully, terrified of how the child would react. Perpetually friendly, her night would have a disappointing end if she couldn’t talk to the entire town due to a screaming toddler. As they waited for the first streak of color in the sky, he leaned in to whisper to the squirming girl that it would be fun. 

It should have been fun. 

Instead, from the corner of his eye came the flick of a tail followed by the crack of an explosion in the sky. The entire town watched in amazement, no one noticing the girl who had snuck her way back to the horses when no one was looking. No one heard the sickening crack of a hoof hitting skull. No one moved to check on Janey Goode for a horrifying thirty seconds. 

Except for him. 

Nathan could still feel the air pushed out of his lungs as he’d run, unable to scream to grab someone’s attention on what had just occurred. Looking for Goode because there was still a chance. A small chance, but an existing one that, if someone got there in time, the damage could be reversed. 

And then the chance faded. 

A father lost his daughter in an instant, in a crowd of everyone he’d ever known. 

Nathan swallowed hard, heart racing as they wheeled away a shroud of white that was far too small. People watched now, but the damage had already been done. And so he did the only thing he could think to do and held his own little girl tightly against his chest, swearing he’d never let her make the same mistake. 

NOWELSLAND - HAYES ORCHARDS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 24TH, 3:00  PM

A loud squeak from the door followed her as she entered the sparsely furnished space. A shiver ran down her spine as she eyed the only decoration on the main wall, a charming school photo of a girl with short brown hair and glasses that practically engulfed her face. She couldn’t have been any older than ten. 

A photo that haunted the space, existing as the smallest admission of guilt. 

Mary had never had the chance to properly meet Janey Goode. Her father had always said she was half of Nowelsands’ greatest tragedy. The other half’s life had been scuffed right underneath where she stood. 

Cold and alone and …

Shaking her head, she stepped further into the living space, Sheriff Holcomb right behind her like a shadow. The good doctor watched her every move as she did, scanning her from head to toe.

“Who’d you bring me, Sheriff?”

“A fancy city girl,” Keaton shook his head, feigning composure. He was failing at it, and Mary waved him off. 

“You sure?”

She narrowed her eyes, placing her hands in front of her as she sat on the opposite couch, “I’m sure.”

After a moment of hesitation, the door shut, and cold eyes studied every inch of her face before spreading cracked lips into a slow grin, “Well, I’ll be. It’s nice to see you, Little Miss Mariam Allison Hayes. Almost didn’t recognize you until you did your little squint.”

“You remember who I am?”

It was a ridiculous game they were playing. Mary was a copy of her mother, and no one let her forget it. And no one forgot Emily Hayes. They lived in a town of only a few hundred, and the woman talked to anything with a pulse. 

“I helped bring you into this world.” Goode still played the game, needling for a way to draw out her discomfort. “The way you almost killed your mama coming out, I remember everything about you.”

Mary licked her lips. “You’ve been busy, doctor.”

Parker had had trouble looking into her eyes as he had devolved. Goode stared her down, like he still had all the cards in his hands and she was simply some nuisance. Mary offered a small smile. 

She’d be a pesky nuisance to get rid of. 

“Your mother used to put your hair in pigtails. How is she?”

“We’re not here to talk about me. I want to talk about Kristy.” 

The first thing anyone had ever told her about interrogation was to find a way to keep her cards to herself. Three years in, the best trick she’d found was to even her tone. Emotions were something criminals latched onto like a drug. 

“You two were never friends. Has something happened?” The innocence in his tone was sickening as the man slowly poured himself a drink. Four sugars and too much milk for a black tea. Mary fought the urge to roll her eyes. Goode liked the idea of the task more than the actual drink

“Well, I’m afraid we can’t blame me this time.” The old man tapped his ankle, producing a dull tink, “I prefer to stay home these days.”

Forcing herself to unscrunch her nose, Mary kept her hands clasped, back straight. The way Kristy would have sat. “There’s no blaming, doctor. Fifteen years ago, you confessed immediately.”

“That I did. Still, I couldn’t have done anything now. Unless you know a way I could Mariam.” Scooting forward expectantly, he raised his cup at her. Mary clenched her jaw as she reached for her bag, snatching up the files she’d carried around all summer. Victim after victim was laid down in a line on the coffee table. The doctor didn’t bat an eye at the images.“You see, there, someone managed to slip up and cut the tendon with this one. I try to keep up with my medical education.”

“Sure, because in a town this small, you never know when the Sheriff might let a killer out because of a snowstorm.” The words came out a bit too bitter, a crumb for the doctor to snatch up. Mary hissed internally at her blunder. 

Goode clicked his tongue, “You’ve been keeping up. You know I don’t like that world killer, Mariam. I am a healer at heart.”

“Like you healed Kristy?” Mary looked up as she fiddled with one of the photos Mendez had taken of the Parrott twins. The kids played dead incredibly well. 

“Kristy was retribution. Kristy put the world in balance and healed our minds.” The doctor spoke like he was giving a sermon, like he had some sort of wisdom to pass down to her. 

Unfortunately, she wasn’t in the habit of taking advice from murderers.

“Kristy was thirteen; she did not deserve to rot in that basement just so you could fix our attention spans.” 

Goode kept his focus on the photo of the girls. They looked pale, sunken, a terrifying image to see of any seven-year-old. Janey Goode had been seven when she died. Shaking his head, the man looked up, staring her down again, “You call your daddy from time to time?”

“No”, she lied.

“That’s a shame, Mary. I’d kill to talk to my little girl one last time.” 

It would almost be easy to feel for him. The sadness in his tone, the grief he’d carried for so long. But almost wasn’t enough. “Like Benjamin Atilla misses his daughter?”

Mary lifted her chin. The doctor breathed heavily before drawling out, “Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you. Nathan Hayes’ daughter down to the last drop. Go on, Mariam, tell the tale.”

“Jane Christensen died from a kick to the head at the same time the fireworks started. No one noticed for a whole minute, but it was enough to not save her. So you chose to punish the town where everyone knew each other’s business, but no one paid attention.”

“I told Janey not to go around it. That man couldn’t control those beasts for the life of him.” The room felt suffocating as he grinned, “A daughter for a daughter, Mariam.”

She was here for closure, but one piece of the puzzle that still gnawed at her brain was answered. Mary knew both stories inside and out, but one detail just didn’t make sense. Because Doctor Goode didn’t truly care about Benjamin Atilla. He hated the town, so why target one family?

“But you never blamed Ben. Even in your trial, you never-”

“Because the bastard’s house was right there! It was opportunity; I could just walk in. Her mama didn’t question it, her daddy didn’t see nothin”

Mary took a shuddering breath as she said the words she’d been afraid to ask since the moment Kristy died, “Then why not me. I was right there. I was always closer. Why didn’t you kill me instead of Kristy?”

The man adopted a disturbing fatherly expression that made bile rise in her throat. Watching her for a moment, his fingers twitched as if to touch her hair before answering. 

“Because of Nathan.”

Mary’s mouth went dry as the man continued, “You would have been just as easy. Your mother was overprotective but not the brightest. Your daddy always in the fields. But the thing was, Nathan Hayes noticed everything.”

“And he would’ve caught you?”

“No. I would’ve slit your throat before he figured you were gone. But I couldn’t do that to the man. I can’t fault the only one around who sees”

“Then why not blame yourself?” The sound of tires bolting against gravel could be heard from outside. Black sedans were arriving, and she was running out of time. 

“Because I wasn’t there!”

“That doesn’t absolve-”

“When the entire world doesn’t notice, that absolves me of everything.”

Silence filled the room. Mary fought the slow smile spreading on her face. Bingo point for Hayes. “Including poisoning the mind of Parker Holcomb? I hear he visits you often.”

“Now that ain’t a crime.”

“No, but twisting the man’s mind to follow your sick mission is” Mary leaned forward as the doctor’s jaw twitched, “But it wasn’t that hard, was it. Parker didn’t need much of a reason to follow your bidding. He was so … pliable.”

Goode met her across the table, causing the cup of tea to slosh onto the table. She kept her eyes as wide-set as possible; she’d get more if she appeared innocent. “How many of the victims were chosen by you? Conspiracy to commit is a crime, Doctor.”

“I can’t be held accountable for another man’s actions, Mariam.” The man remained focused on her, but his left eye was twitching, a sign that the nuisance was getting under his skin. “What Parker does is his choice.”

Mary shrugged, moving the pictures around and pulling four toward her. 

39, 50, 18, 77. 

“Four.”

“No.”

Studying the display intently, she hovered her hand over the 77 before making space for Kate Dyson’s picture. The caged girl led so far astray by a man controlled by another. No one in this case was innocent, but the man across from her … she hated him. 

“Five. I know there are five.”

“There are five, but you’re not paying attention, Mariam. LOOK. CLOSER.

She settled her fingers over Carolyn’s picture, holding her breath as he watched them twitch.

“39, 50, 18 NORTH 77. Pay attention, it’s right there spelled out for you. Put Grace’s picture up there now.”

Mary looked up. 

None of the pictures showed the numbers, and Grace Moroney’s photo hadn’t been included. The doctor took a shuddering breath, staring at the photos with bugged eyes. Tapping her finger against each one, she said quietly, “Grace is in surgery right now. Why would you assume she’s dead?”

The man who had been so confident just moments before now looked at the floor. He avoided her gaze entirely.

“Maybe you should’ve looked closer. Would you like to write your confession now or with the FBI?” Goode snarled at her, and Mary pulled out a pen and paper from her bag, “Nowelslands’ geographic location. You wanted to see how long your followers could write it out on each victim before someone noticed. Clever.”

“I get bored, Hayes. I sit here, and the world rots. And my Janey stays gone.”

For the minutes it took for him to begin writing, Mary sat in silence, locking her jaw. It was better to let him dig his own hole, allowing him to unravel bit by bit. Jurors hated seeing it happen, and it made convictions easier. He deserved to rot. 

Finally, she stood, legs shaking with relief, not realizing just how tensed up she’d been. Grabbing her bag, she hiked it onto her shoulder, pausing to ask one more question. The last one she needed. 

“Why confess so easily?”

Those snake-like lips grinned one last time in a way she had to assume was to unnerve her. All she felt was exhaustion. 

“Because the game is over. You noticed it won’t be fun anymore.”

GOTHAM CITY - CRIME ALLEY

PRESENT DAY - DICK  

June 25th, 11:00 PM 

It had all started with a simple question. 

“Is it weird to stay in her apartment?” 

Jason had paused, noodles hoisted in the air just inches from his mouth. A drop fell on red Kevlar, and he set the chopsticks down, blue eyes flashing with something that was a surprisingly decent mix of concern and confusion.

“See … I was going to say yes and hit you over the head.” Reaching over him, his brother had the audacity to grab his drink, slurping it down in performative thought, “But I’ve crashed on her couch once or twice when she’s been out of town. Granted, I was bleeding out, so maybe man, just I don’t know, call her.” 

Poking at his own box of Chinese food, he honestly couldn’t muster up the appetite for it. “I can’t… I don’t know … " ‘What ifs’ swirled in his head, the mask on his face the only cover between them and the world. “Do you want my General Tso’s?”

“Yeah. Don’t change the subject.” 

“Greedy.” Handing the box over, he sighed, “Part of me knows she’ll be fine. But I wasn’t there, Jay, and it’s eating me alive.”

“That sucks. You know what would fix that.” Jason replied, reaching into his pocket to wag his phone in his face. Dick frowned, confiscating it, “Okay, stay feisty.”

“You shouldn’t have this on patrol.”

Jason groaned, likely about to say something about how he was being overbearing, when an idea dawned on him. Quite literally dawned by the way the young man’s face practically lit up. 

“Hey, Oracle?”

“No.” Dick let out the sharp warning, moving to stand as if running away would stop what was to occur. But the damage was done, Barbara’s attention was already caught. 

“Any chance you could patch a call all the way out to Maryland?”

Of course she could. Barabra Gordon could do anything. 

And she was quick about it. 

“Hey, are you alright?” The sound of shuffling sheets could be heard as Mary sat upright, voice laced with concern, “Jason?”

Her voice was like water in a desert, a blessing he didn’t know he could somehow miss more. Dick froze, hands pressed to his knees as Jason grinned, messing with the fine-tuning of his comm. 

“Should be asking you the same thing. A brush with death? That’s bad ass, Hayes.”

And there it was. That twinkling laugh, the chiming of a thousand little bells. Not full of sadness or stress but somehow … free. Hundreds of miles away from him and somehow more alive than he’d heard her in weeks. 

“Well, thank you.” There was a pause before she asked, “How’s Dick?”

A third voice cut in from the line, speaking rapidly to get a word in, “Wellllll, from my vantage point, I’d say he looks like a puppy that was kicked one too many times. He’s also lost his ability to speak, it seems. Anything to add?”

Dick shot up, glancing around the space to pinpoint the rooftop his younger brother had to be on. It was just his luck that Tim was one of the best at hiding in plain sight; the pain could barely be seen by the slightest visibility of red three rooftops over. 

“Tim …”

“Thank you for asking, Drake. I have nothing to add to this pathetic display.”

“Damian.”

He was ready to rip out the comm and live a life of solitude. He could certainly do it, hide away in Bludhaven where no one could bother him, and live in lonely peace. Dick had almost convinced himself of it when two words pulled him back by snagging right on the strings of his soul. 

“Hi, Dick.”

Nothing else mattered beyond that point. Even when Jason announced incredibly loudly and judgmentally, “He wants to know if he can sleep in your bed.”

Embarrassing as it was, even that didn’t matter, because at least it got that lovely voice to keep speaking to him as Mary squeaked out a questioning, “What?” before waxing poetically about an apartment she still assumed was a crime scene. 

He’d be content with anything he could get because nothing mattered besides her. 

NOWELSLAND - HAYES ORCHARDS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 26TH, 1:00  AM

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

Lying down, Mary soaked in the soft chuckle on the other end, “You can just say you miss me.”

There was something so comforting, so right in whispering in the middle of the night like two kids. Just intimate enough for her to worry about her parents down the hall, somehow hearing her. A thought so ridiculous that it made her snort into her pillow. 

“I do miss you, you know.”

Dick’s voice had always carried a kindness to it, like he actually cared about what everyone said to him. Beneath all the shining brightness, the bravado, there was a genuine heart, a person who cared in spite of all the cruelty he’d seen. 

It was no wonder he was so inspiring, touching everyone he met.

Setting her phone on the pillow, she tucked into herself, fighting off the sleep creeping through her. Inevitably, even insomniacs crashed at some point. “It’s good practice.” Blinking several times, she worked through a yawn, “You know, when you leave me for all those missions.”

Dick shuffled on the other end, dropping something heavy and metal on a counter of some sort. Home from patrol and a good one from the levity in his tone. 

“I don’t have to do them. Just say the word.”

He meant every word, and she snorted again, pulling the sheets up to her chin. Not a thing in the room had been changed; her mother had preserved her childhood in a time capsule, stuffed animals shoved into the closet and introductory psychology textbooks on the bookshelf. Dick would have decoded the whole space, teasing her if he were here.

“I would never do that.” Waiting for him to start the microwave, she continued again, voice picking up in excitement, “Hey, do you want to hear how we got him yesterday?”

A hop on the counter and clinking of cutlery were followed by, “Goode? Yeah, speak to me, Mare.”

“Well …” Closing her eyes she could almost imagine the wrinkle of concentration between his brows as he listened, “I was right. Classic narcissist…” 

NOWELSLAND - HAYES ORCHARDS

PRESENT DAY - MARY

JUNE 27TH, 6:00 PM

Stretching far across, there was green. The entire summer in Gotham had been gray and orange, humidity sticking like a second skin. This felt like a summer she knew, a summer she hadn’t let herself enjoy for far too long. 

Squinting, Mary could just make out the blue jay two trees over, caring for its babies. Three chicks nestled into one another, chirping for attention. They were old enough that they’d be leaving the nest soon. 

“Well, you sure are pretty.”

Sound didn’t travel far, tucked away on the tallest branch that would hold her. The air smelled like honey, the sweet scent of blooming lilacs perfuming the whole space. With her knees folded into her chest, Mary could almost believe that she belonged here again. 

Almost. 

Boots crunched against the soft ground, stopping under her to test the roots with a light tap. Slowly, she unfurled herself, beginning to lower herself branch by branch as a voice called up. 

“Is there a lot of root rot in Gotham?”

Hooking her feet, the world flipped upside down. Her hair was brushing dirt, but for once, she didn’t care as she swung slightly, “So much.”

Her father huffed out a laugh, sitting near the trunk. How many moments like this had simply disappeared seemingly overnight? How long had she deprived him of the girl he’d spent ten years raising, replacing her with a stranger? 

“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

It had been far too long since she’d swung like this, and the blood was rushing to her brain. Reaching a hand out, she allowed herself to be lowered to the ground. Her father brushed a stray hair out of her face, eyes crinkling slightly.

“Do you remember when you would run around, peeking into everyone’s windows?” The bark bit at her hands as she leaned back, listening to the comforting voice, “I’ve never seen your mother more mortified than when people started complaining that we were raising a peeping Tom.”

Tucking her feet under her, Mary nodded, “I got banned real quick from playing spies.”

“Didn’t stop you from doing it. The best part of my week was Goode stopping to complain that you were loitering around.” One hand reached over, slowly unwrapping the bandage on her palm with a whistle, “Look at that. You’ve got proof of the tale now.”

The EMT had told her the cuts would most likely heal into a scar, especially since she’d insisted against stitches, hell bent on wasting no more time. But with the proper care and dropping some money on creams, it was something fixable. 

“You’ve always been tenacious. Sharp-tongued too. How many times were you grounded because you made Matthew Parr cry?” Wrapping the bandage back up, her father patted her head, “And particular. Things had to go your way, and no one could pull a fast one on you if things weren’t in the right order.” 

He could see her doubts as clearly as if she’d said them out loud. Mary looked up at the green, listening to sharp chirping, “So I was a horrible child?”

“You were our child. You made those traits your own.” He whistled once more as her mother called them back inside, “Shame to let someone take them from you. I’ll let you hold that damage in your hand, but I’ll be damned if you let it fester in your head.” 

Fixable. Everything about this case was fixable. 

Pushing herself to her feet, Mary stretched her neck, “I’ve got a couple of weeks of forced leave. Maybe I’ll start paying extra attention to my therapist … or I could just stay here?”

Nathan Hayes had a laugh that sounded like bells, a laugh that made people feel important, “You’ve overstayed your visit. Come back when I need you for the harvest. Avoidance isn’t a good habit to have, Mariam. I raised you better.” 

Humming in agreement, she wiped the soles of her feet on the mat before stepping into the house. “So what do you suggest?”

A sharp voice from the kitchen answered her in response, “I suggest you wash up. I have so many questions, and I’m a bundle of nerves today; it must be the changing weather. So we’re only doing happy questions, normal questions. No more sad talk”, Her mother’s small figure weaved around them with curiosity, holding onto a steaming dish, “Is he nice? Does he have a job? Who-.”

“Emily …” 

“Not all of us can simply glance at her and know.” Her mother replied nasally, leaning close to meet her eye, “Is he kind. The best thing you can do is find someone kind.”

Mary grinned, taking the hot dish to set it on the table. They had no idea.Truly no idea. 

GOTHAM CITY 

PRESENT DAY - DICK  

June 28th, 4:00 AM 

Somewhere along the lines, Dick had missed the memo that he was no longer allowed to be alone or act on his own devices.

“Did you tell Jason to steal my tires yesterday?”

Mary guffawed like the accusation was ridiculous, peeking her face into the camera’s view, toothbrush poised in her mouth. Her eyes twinkled brightly like the few stars in the sky above him, fighting against the smog. It looked better on her than the city.

“I told him there was no need for you to come down here.” Pumping some sort of skincare in her hands, she shrugged innocently, “I plead not guilty to influencing how he chose to act on that information.”

“I want to come down there, Mary. Especially if you have no intention of coming back any time soon.”

Sighing, the benched profiler narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m coming home.”

“When?”

When she was healed? When they finally let her drown her thoughts in work again? People didn’t just bounce back from being attacked in their own home, even someone like her.

“When I finally pick up all the pieces of myself.” Grabbing her phone, she continued, voice falling into a calm lecture, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. I’ve been given a chance to be better, to take back what he took, not just for myself … I think Kristy and I would agree on this one.”

“I know you just threw up a little using that saying.” With a grin, he leaned back, flipping the screen to show her Gotham’s skyline, “What’s the actual definition of insanity?”

“Merriam-Webster generic or the legal one?” Mary teased, lips pursed at the scene he presented before her face sparked in thought, “I need to show you something.”

“What are you, a human encyclopedia?” He asked as she rushed out of the room.

Her home really looked like an old farmhouse from the little he could see in the darkness as she silently slipped down the stairs. Shaking his head, Dick could only wonder how many times she’d snuck out the same way.

“I just might be. I think Gotham U defines criminal insanity as a mental illness, absolving the defendant from understanding the nature of their actions.” Quiet footsteps filled the silence as she trudged over  grass, and then she was pulling herself up higher and higher in the hair. He complained as she tucked him into her pajama pocket, blocking his view, “You can pull up the site and fact check me.”

Laughing, he could help but melt as a freckled face game into view again, “I believe you.” Whistling, he squinted at the rows of branches she showed him, “How many acres is that?”

“Ten. Not nearly enough, but we make it work.” Pointing with one finger, now painted a deep red, she leaned her head against the trunk of the tree she’d climbed, “There are these three baby blue jays right across from here. I’ve been watching them every day. I think they’re going to fly soon.”

“You’ve been bird watching?” The concept of Mariam Hayes spending the better half of a week getting attuned with nature shouldn’t have been as funny as it was. Mary exaggerated an eye roll as he clutched his side, “You just solved the case of your life, and you’ve been bird watching.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, eyes glazing over as she stared at the scene ahead of her, before letting out an almost imperceptible, “It’s quiet. It’s easier to work things out alone, where no one can follow me.”

Dick swallowed hard, trying to see what she saw in the darkness. Climbing higher, one foot after another, before reaching the highest precipice. Above the pedestal people put them on, above the criticism. He understood it. No one understood the euphoria of being at the top before free-falling better than him.

But he also knew how quickly a free-fall could turn into a spiral.

“But I don’t mind having you up here with me.” Mary finally spoke, louder and clearer, “I think you can stay. Don’t come here. Not yet … it’s still too tainted. But you can stay.”.

Dick nodded, picking up on her unsaid hesitation, the need to make things right … to make things perfect. Old habits died hard. 

“I went to visit Grace today.”

Mary sat up, eyes wide, searching his face for any sign of how the visit went. She nodded her head for him to go on. 

“She’s okay. She’ll make a full recovery and appreciated the visitor.” Mary hummed in thought as he continued, “But they’re going to charge her.”

Mary thought for a moment, pulling words together in her head before speaking, “I think that’s understandable. Even if it wasn’t her intention, actions have punishments.” Freckles meshing together as she thought, a small “Thank you” was added to the end.

He hadn’t had to go visit her cousin, but it had felt right. Especially with Mary so far from Gotham, unable to pay her respects or say her peace. It hadn’t been out of his way or any weight off his skin, but by the way she looked at him, it meant more to her than he could have imagined. 

The silence was comfortable. Like a warm blanket, connecting them in a way no one besides them would understand. It had existed seven years ago in Gladstone’s over homework assignments, and nights when they despised each other, calling in to make sure the other was alive, and now, when so much was still left unsaid.

The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon when Mary broke it with a quick, “Hey, Dick?”

“Hmmmm?” He questioned, lazily, only for panic to rush through his veins a moment later. 

“I’m so in love with you.”

Mary glanced at him expectantly, face uncharacteristically vulnerable, way too honest for her usual persona. Her concern made his brain even more of a mess of white noise before she called his name again hesitantly.

“You’re going to kill me, Hayes, you know that, right? I love you to death.”

And there she was again, eyes rolling as she propped her chin into her hands, “God let me sign the prenup first.”

“Come home first.”

GOTHAM - GC MINIMART

PRESENT DAY - DICK  

June 30TH, 4:00 PM 

Daniel Mendez was persistent. A horrible stalker, but a persistent one. He was a loud soul, a bright man whose very presence screamed that he was there. And for some reason, he was everywhere at the moment. Likely due to his little blonde partner expressing concern about him. 

He couldn’t think of any other reason Mendez was bound to show up at every point in his life now. As Dick Grayson and as Nightwing. Crime scenes, morning jogs, his apartment, Mary’s apartment, Bludhaven, Gotham, and all that was in between.. 

It wasn’t that he disliked the man. Daniel was easy to get along with and one of the nicest people Gotham had ever produced. But being around him was just another reminder of who wasn’t there. 

And so, Dick, despite himself, couldn’t prevent the groan as he heard the inevitable, “No way! Fancy seeing you here, lover boy.”

Dropping the box of cereal in his cart, he turned around slowly to the shit-eating grin of the giant leaning against the end of the aisle. Mendez wore a t-shirt the same neon green as the grocery store’s logo, arms crossed as he continued, “What a coincidence.” 

“Yeah. Coincidence.” 

The interaction had somehow culminated in him meeting the famed Valeria Mendez, an equally tall woman with the brightest smile and sweetest voice he’d ever heard. The type of voice that belonged on PBS children’s broadcasting, straight out of an episode of Mr. Rogers.

And that’s all it had taken to get him where he was now, sitting in their apartment, food piled on his plate as Mendez complained about Mary’s internal affairs case. She’d  mentioned being adopted by the couple, and he understood why now. 

“They’re being ass holes, kid, and there’s nothing Gordon can do about it. That’s why Lawrence is insisting she stay one more day, so her case opens on a Monday.” Daniel reached over, stealing a spoonful of his food, which earned him a hiss from his wife, “Gives the entire FPCP department enough time to close ranks. Old man’s protective of his own.”

Dick paused, mouth full of food, swallowing quickly, “She was supposed to be back today?” Mendez frowned at his expression, and the younger man reached uncomfortably for his water, “I feel incredibly out of the loop. Again ”

“Don’t take it personally, sweetheart”, Val consoled, leaning against the counter, “You get used to it. They get so engrossed with work that they forget. No matter how many times you remind them.” The words were emphasised by a light whip of the towel to Mendez’s head. 

“Get a load of her. She’s great!” he grinned, pointing a thumb at his wife, “But in all honesty, poor kids have been in off-the-books calls all day. I was there and … you’ll understand when she comes back. It’s the kind of thing that makes you not want to be a cop anymore.” Pausing for dramatic effect, the detective added, “How about you, Mr. Unemployed!”

Dick groaned, dropping his head on the table as Mendez continued to talk before raising a hand to stop him, “How hard are they going to go into her?”

Disappointment sank in as the serious reply came, “Hard. Cities are looking for ways to cut departments. Lawrence won’t let that happen, of course, but it’ll be an uphill battle. It’s easy to pick on the youngest girl in his club and not the hundreds of cops shaking people down on the street.”

Corruption in Gotham wasn’t what it once was. Gordon had worked hard to revitalize what had been the worst of the scum. But it didn’t stop certain officers from taking any inch they were given. No one was clean. Not Gordon. Not Mendez and not even Mary. But the difference stood between bending the law for a person’s sake and being punished for it  and actively harming civilians with no repercussions. 

Bruce would warn him that he was standing on a slippery moral slope. Jason would say he was a hypocrite. And he couldn’t care less because he knew Mary down to her very soul. She could play with the law like a jump rope for a case, but she was good. She saved lives and cared for the people she helped, and that was all that mattered. 

No one was taking her job from her. 

“But yeah, Hayes is obviously going to go tooth and nail on this. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to have a headache”, Mendez continued, lamenting, “She’s a beast at paperwork, and now I have to do double the load.”

Val paused, looking up from her phone and giving him the stink eye, as she said warningly, “You make that poor girl do your work?”

“She likes to do it!” 

GOTHAM CITY - NARROWS 

PRESENT DAY - DICK  

June 30TH, 9:00 PM 

It would have been far too simple for that to have been the last time he saw Mendez that day, but life hadn’t ever been that easy for him.

“So you just weren’t going to tell me when you were coming back?”

A well-aimed kick had the goon on the ground faster than Mary could reply with a huff. 

“What do you have against surprises?” There was the click of her heels against concrete, some sort of town event she’d mentioned her mother dragging her to before she made the drive back to Jersey in the morning. 

“Personally, I don’t like surprises either.” Jason’s voice filled the line as he dropped onto the roof, moving to tie up the unconscious drug dealers, “I’ve never seen a surprise that ended well.” 

Dick messed with the switch of his fraying grappling hook as Mary dropped her voice in affection, “You’ve never had a surprise birthday party? Never had the girl you like drop by unannounced? With all the books you’ve read, I’d assume you’d think it’s romantic.”

Jason scoffed, pushing one of the goons over with his foot, “Dying during puberty kinda ruined my love life.” Dick shot him a sharp look that he returned with a frown, “And look at what a surprise proposal did to poor Darcy. What do you care about romance anyway?”

Mary remained silent on the other end, and Dick glanced off to the side. Jason remained oblivious as the door to the roof pushed open and Mendez stepped into view. He honestly wasn’t surprised at this point. 

Jason stretched, stepping to the side to speak to his inside source. From the hushed exchange, he gleamed that the men they’d just taken down were part of some trafficking ring Mendez was helping investigate. With Jason’s help, he was going to see if some of the kids could offer a positive ID on the men strong enough to keep them behind bars. 

“You still there?” Mary’s low voice reverberated in his ears, and he gave a quick reply of acknowledgment. “I just wanted to let you know I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

And then she left, leaving behind a teasing promise. 

His brother gave a final nod, and Mendez moved forward, photographing the incapacitated men with a frown, “The tattoos are similar to what we’ve seen before. I’ll make sure to bring it up at the next meeting we have at the force.” Finally noticing Dick, he gave him a curt nod, “Although I fear my department will be a little busy with some … internal issues at the moment. Hey, I know you, you’re the guy my partner hates. How ya doing, Nightwing?”

Dick crossed his arms, face carefully crafted into slight amusement. Enough to seem friendly but keep Mendez a stranger to the mask, “She’s the one that fell off the trash can? You two make quite the impression.” Mendez held out a hand to shake, and he slowly took it, “I’m doing as well as anyone in Bludhaven can be. How are you two? Clearly doing things under Gordon’s nose.”

Mendez rubbed his temples with a dark laugh, rocking on the back of his heels, “You have no idea. I’m this close to leaving the field altogether and going old school private. Good old Red Hood over here, and a few gems at the GCPD are the only things keeping me together these days.”

“Aha …” 

He made a move to leave when Jason nodded to him with a wide grin, “You know, Detective, if you ever need a contact in Bludhaven …” 

Dick shot him a warning look before giving the man a plastered smile, “If our cities ever cross lines again, I’ll see what I can do. I don’t mind working with the entire department.” 

“I appreciate that. Truly.  I don’t think I can take on a third role, but keep an eye out for me, pretty boy.” With a wink, Mendez moved back towards the door, hesitating for a moment, “However, rethink the Gotham contact thing. I know a couple of detectives from the FPCP with some open schedules these days.” 

A few minutes later, exchanging a glance with Jason as he hoisted the last unconscious man over his shoulder, his brother defended himself, “We’re not the first and not the last people to have our own people within the law. Bruce and Gordon started it … take advantage, why don’t you?”

The door shut, and Dick shook his head, moving to the edge of the building, a hand to his comm to ask, “What does that mean?” when the door opened again. 

Great, now he could just ask him in person while berating him about losing something. 

Except the footsteps were louder, not as trained to walk through darkness. Louder and much lighter. And then there came the scraping of a light jacket against brick as someone leaned by the doorway. 

“And here I thought you enjoyed working with profilers. Oh dear, I must have made a bad impression.”

Turning around, he was met with narrowed eyes, one blonde eyebrow quirked slightly. A dark kitten heel tapped against the floor as she took in his shock, tilting her head in a way that caused her windblown hair to fall to one side. 

She was ethereal. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet, is it?” The words fell plainly as he took a step forward, heart racing as Mary pushed herself off the wall, “You’re really committed to that surprise.”

Mouth pressed into a sharp line, Mary shrugged, taking a few steps to meet him in the middle. Her presence was like a Gotham night, gray and foggy, wrapping around him like home, the threat of ruining him simmering just behind those slitted eyes. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything, I was just testing it out. I didn’t think I could come back to my home, not in the state that it was. I was surprised when I stepped on it, and it’s not destroyed but completely clean. Then I realized something. 

Something about the words were far too serious, nothing like her quiet teasing over calls. Moving once more, he pulled at his gloves, shoving them away as his brows furrowed. 

“And what’s that?” 

“I don’t think I can be your friend anymore.” A small smile graced her features, lighting up her eyes as she tilted her head the other way, “I think this is the end of an era.”

There was no silence. No waiting. Only two steps. 

Two steps and the grabbing of an arm before lips were crashing against one another, desperate and messy. He could feel Mary push onto her toes, a hand tangling into his hair as the entire world ceased to exist. With a soft exhale, the hand gripping her arm lowered to her waist, the other coming to the nape of her neck, pulling her up and closer, toes barely scuffing the ground as he deepened the kiss.

Lock and key, a spark running through every neuron at the slightest movement from her. And suddenly, everything that had happened between them made sense because it had led to them. 

Teeth grazed against one another as Mary pulled away, arms still wrapped around his neck as she caught her breath, a dazed look crossing her face. And then a breezy laugh escaped at the realization that one of her heels had fallen off. 

“Perfect.” If he could have bottled up the way she looked at him, he would, but settled instead to catch soft lips in his once more, “You’re perfect.”

Quick and self-assured and thoughtful, everything about Mary was like the way she talked down to the way she fit against him. A finger brushed against his face, stopping at the mask, and she paused, nose brushing against his. When Mary Hayes was completely, soul-shatteringly happy, she shimmered. And right now, she stood before him like a million glittering diamonds.

“Stay. When you’re done.”

Less of a question and more of an offering. One he’d been waiting for since that night in her apartment. The chance to stay in each other’s orbits, not for an evening and not just for a call every three months. To be each other’s paths completely. 

Swallowing hard, he nodded, letting her feet hit the ground before he knelt for her lost shoe, slipping it back on, “I think I can do that.”

GOTHAM CITY - BURNELY SQUARE APARTMENTS 

PRESENT DAY - MARY  

JUNE 31TH, 12:00 AM 

The knock came hesitatingly, as if the person on the other side was afraid to break some kind of spell. Turning down the music from the stolen CD, she couldn’t help the pull at her cheeks. Bypassing the mirror without a second glance, she opened the door.

Dick stood, hands in his pockets, no mask, physical or metaphorical. Only sky blue eyes and a sheepish smile that graced her with just the slightest presence of a dimple. The buzzing in her chest worsened as she took in his damp hair, the way his chest rose slightly like he’d run up the steps to her apartment. 

She forced herself out of the squint, nose scrunching in affection as the dimple deepened when the only world she could think of, despite wracking her brain, came out to be. 

“Hi.” 

The man before her didn’t seem to mind one bit, looking at her wholly, because he knew every single part of her and, by some miracle, still liked who he saw. 

“Hi, Mare.”

Dick Grayson managed to shine brightly even when a million techniques and masks covered his face. But when he was happy, truly happy, he burned brighter than the sun, and right now, standing before her, she was convinced he was the embodiment of warmth, teeth gleaming at her as she opened the door even further. 

“You wanna come in?”