Chapter Text
Dick Grayson sat in the dimly lit briefing room, tapping his pen against the table. Across the table, Bruce Wayne stood with his arms crossed, his usual commanding presence tempered by concern, and maybe even fear.
“Let’s go over this one more time,” Bruce repeated. “Your cover.”
Dick sighed but complied. They’d been running through his backstory for the better part of five hours.
“Richard ‘Ricky Kelly. Former bartender turned drifter. Grew up rough in Gotham, moved to Blüdhaven for a fresh start after a few arrests.” He replied easily as he allowed his shoulders to relax. He leaned back into his chair—slipping into Ricky Kelly’s skin with ease.
“I bounced around from job to job before heading to Gotham to see if I could make something of myself. I’m good with people, and always ready to lend a sympathetic ear. The kind of guy who looks harmless enough to trust with a secret.”
Bruce watched him, his gaze searching for any cracks in the story. “And why would someone like you turn up in Crime Alley?”
Dick shrugged, playing at nonchalance, “Maybe I ran out of options. Maybe I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck and want something bigger, something better.” He leaned forward, locking eyes with Bruce. “Or maybe I got tired of listening to other people’s problems and decided it was time to take care of my own.”
Bruce let the silence stretch.
Dick held his gaze. Refused to allow the silence to shatter his resolve. Silence unnerved many, it was one of the easiest ways to break an unseasoned liar. Those without the confidence tended to over-explain.
Finally after a minute, Bruce nodded and turned to the whiteboard on the far wall, where a crude map of Crime Alley had been sketched out alongside a handful of scattered notes about the Red Hoods.
“They’re cautious,” Bruce said, gesturing to the sparse details. “Small operations. No one’s seen the boss up close. Whoever they are, they’re smart enough to keep their face out of sight and their name out of rumors. People just call them the Red Hood.”
“And they’re expanding,” Dick replied easily. “They’ve been making moves on Black Mask’s territory, recruiting from the fringes, keeping the big players guessing. The kind of crew that doesn’t let just anyone in. Which means—”
“Which means you don’t make a single wrong move,” Bruce cut in, his tone firm. “This isn’t just some gang. They’re dangerous. Ruthless.”
Dick raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you were my babysitter.”
“I’m your commanding officer,” Bruce shot back, “And I won’t lose you to this.”
Dick dropped the facade for a moment, and looked at Bruce. "You've always been more than that. And you know that you’re not going to lose me. I’ve handled worse than some gang of hoodlums.”
Bruce hummed and pushed a slim folder across the table. Inside was everything the department had managed to scrape together on the Red Hoods—witness accounts, surveillance photos, and a few blurry images of their leader in the signature red helmet
Dick flipped through the folder, skimming the sparse details. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Just this,” Bruce said, leaning forward “They don't trust anyone. You get one shot at this. One mistake, and you’re either dead or worse. Which means you don’t make a single wrong move.”
“I’ve dealt with danger before.”
“This is different. The Red Hood trusts no one. One slip, and you’re out—permanently.”
Dick raised an eyebrow. “You’re really selling me on this, you know that?”
"This isn’t a joke, Dick. As a commanding officer, I can recognise why you were assigned this case. But if it were up to me you wouldn’t be anywhere near this thing.”
“Bruce, we both know that I’m the best man for the job.”
Bruce didn’t respond, instead he turned around to gather a binder of documents. In it contained details about Dick’s new persona. Richard “Ricky” Kelly.
Dick leaned forward in his chair, and then started to flip through the binder, inspecting the documents with curiosity, “Why Ricky?” Dick asked, looking up at Bruce, voice laced with both curiosity and hesitation. “It’s not quite a persona if I’m using a variation on my own name…”
“That’s the point. You’ll react and respond to Ricky, Dick," Bruce said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "It’s close enough to your real name that it’ll be a natural reaction. When you slip into that role, it won’t feel forced. You need to stay in character, so it will be far easier if that character shares a lot with who you really are. The fewer cracks there are in the persona, the harder it will be for anyone to see through the act.”
Dick frowned, a bit of skepticism creeping into his thoughts. “But won’t that make it harder for me? If I integrate too much of myself, what happens if I get too attached? What happens if I can’t keep the boundaries separate?”
“That’s the job. You’ll need to blur those lines. But at the end of the day this is a job like any other. You complete the mission.”
The briefing room felt colder for a moment.
“The Red Hood seems to have a soft spot for people who have had tough lives so Ricky’s rap sheet includes multiple arrests for solicitation,” Bruce said, pointing to a page that detailed Ricky’s fabricated criminal history. “We’ve included mugshots, arrest reports, even statements from the supposed officers who picked him up. It paints a clear picture of someone living on the margins.”
Dick frowned slightly as picked up the page. “And now, he’s back in Gotham, trying to survive any way he can. That’s where the stroll comes in.”
Bruce nodded, his tone clipped. “You’ll spend those first weeks working the streets in Crime Alley, making connections, picking up rumors. It’s the most direct way to earn the trust of the intermediaries who report back to the Red Hood. You won’t be able to make contact unless you get someone to vouch for you. We believe the easiest way to make contact is by befriending Kori Anders, a local sex-worker with connections to the Red Hoods. You need to convince her to arrange a meeting.”
Dick set the paper down and looked up at Bruce, his expression unreadable. “And you’re planning to check in how?”
“I’ll pose as a client, one of the regulars. We’ve already lined up a network of contacts—every john you interact with will be working with us. They’re vetted, reliable, and understand the stakes.”
“That’s… thorough. So, I’ll know it’s you when you show up?”
“You’ll know,” Bruce said, his eyes meeting Dick’s.
“Right.” Dick said, running a hand through his hair. “Because that won’t be awkward at all.”
Bruce ignored the sarcasm, flipping the folder shut. “The Red Hoods will be watching. They’ll dig into your history, your clients, your routines. We’ve made sure every part of Ricky Kelly’s life can hold up under a microscope. You need to play the part.”
Dick exhaled slowly. “I’ll make it work. Ricky’s not exactly a stretch—just a darker version of what I could’ve been if things had gone differently. If you hadn’t been there for me.”
For a moment, Bruce’s expression softened. “If anything feels off, you pull back. Signal for extraction, and we’ll get you out.”
Dick nodded, standing and picking up the folder. “Ricky Kelly, working the streets and trying to infiltrate the Red Hoods. Got it. Anything else?”
Bruce hesitated before answering. “Just remember—they’re ruthless. They’ll use whatever they can against you.”
Dick smiled, flashing his canines, “Good thing Ricky doesn’t have much to lose.”
Bruce stood with his arms crossed, watching as Dick slid the burner phone into his jacket. “Now the most important thing. Every single john we send will use the same codeword. You’re to only go with clients who identify themselves as one of ours.”
Dick raised an eyebrow, his smirk half-formed. “And if someone forgets to drop the magic word?”
“They won’t,” Bruce replied firmly. “We’ve drilled this with every contact. If someone approaches you without the codeword, you assume they’re not ours and disengage. No exceptions.”
Dick let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“This isn’t a game,” Bruce said, his tone cutting through the faint levity in Dick’s voice. “The Red Hoods will test you. They’ll send people to watch, to ask questions, to make sure you’re exactly who you claim to be. If you make a mistake—if you go with the wrong person—you could compromise the entire operation.”
“I get it. Codeword or nothing. I’ll stick to the plan.”
“Good. Because if anything goes wrong out there, I won’t be able to help you right away. You’ll be on your own until we can extract you.”
“What’s the codeword?”
Bruce hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Robin.”
Dick’s lips quirked into a small, wry smile. “Sentimental.”
“It’s easy to remember,” Bruce said, brushing off the comment.
“And it’s unmistakable. Anyone who doesn’t say it is not one of ours.”
“Got it,” Dick said, standing up and grabbing the folder. “Robin or nothing.”
Bruce watched him. “Be careful, Dick.”
Dick glanced back, his grin tempered by a flicker of sincerity. “Always am.”
As he walked out of the room, Bruce stayed behind, staring at the map of Crime Alley. His hand lingered near the Red Hood’s name.
___________
Dick stood in the East End, outside the SRO, a single room occupancy building that would become his home for the foreseeable future. The rusted fire escapes loomed like skeletal fingers over the cracked sidewalk, and the graffiti tagging every surface made it clear this wasn’t the kind of place where anyone stayed long—if they had a choice.
Inside, the room was barely large enough to contain the essentials: a lumpy twin bed, a battered chair, and a nightstand missing a drawer. The mirror on the wall was cracked.
Dick dropped his duffel onto the bed, and started pulling out the pieces of his new life: a low black tank top that clung to his torso like a second skin, a pair of tight ripped jeans that hung low on his hips and a beat-up leather jacket and platform combat boots. To sell the look, he added a leather choker and a few cheap rings.
And then he grabbed the eyeliner. He leaned close to the cracked mirror, steadying his hand as he rimmed his eyes with black, smudging the edges. The reflection staring back at him looked like someone who knew the streets too well, someone who was both desperate and dangerous.
Ricky Kelly was ready for his first night out.
________________
The streets of Crime Alley were alive with their usual chaos: broken glass crunching underfoot, distant sirens, and the soft hum of desperate conversations. Dick lit a cigarette, letting it dangle loosely from his lips as he leaned against a wall, surveying the scene.
It wasn’t long before he spotted her.
Kori Anders stood under a flickering streetlight, her long red hair catching the glow like fire. Her outfit—a metallic gold dress that shimmered under the harsh street light—was unapologetically bold. She was a tall woman, taller still in her knee high boots. She was beautiful, almost otherworldly.
Dick pushed off the wall and sauntered over “Hey there, gorgeous. I’m new. Mind if I keep you company?”
Kori turned, her green eyes sharp and assessing. For a moment, she said nothing, letting her gaze rake over him before her lips curled into a faint smile. “Bold of you to assume I want company.”
Dick smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Figured it was worth the gamble. Name’s Ricky. New in town. Figured I’d start my grand tour by meeting the most interesting person here.”
Kori laughed, the sound rich and warm against the chill of the night. “You’ve got some good lines, Ricky. But that doesn't mean much around here. This isn’t some nightclub in the Narrows. Crime Alley eats guys like you for breakfast.”
“Good thing I’ve got an iron stomach,” Dick quipped, flicking ash from his cigarette.
Kori tilted her head, studying him for another moment. “You’re easy on the eyes, I’ll give you that. But if you’re smart, you’ll tread carefully. People don’t last long here unless they know how to play the game.”
“Guess I’ll just have to learn from the best,” Dick said, his grin widening.
Kori didn’t reply immediately, but the faint curve of her lips suggested he’d passed her first test. “We’ll see, Ricky. I’ll let you work this corner, but I’ll be back by sunrise to collect.”
“Collect?”
“Collect. You owe me fifteen percent at the end of the night for any services rendered. The Red Hoods control this area. If you survive the night, we can change it to a weekly payment.”
Dick nodded. “Got it”
She turned and strode away, her boots clicking against the pavement. Dick watched her go, the ember of his cigarette glowing faintly in the darkness.
_____
Half an hour later, Dick loitered near his corner when the telltale hum of a car engine caught his attention. A black sedan pulled up to the curb, and the man who stepped out was unmistakably Bruce.
Dressed in an understated suit that screamed "wealthy but discrete," Bruce’s disguise was impeccable. He approached Dick with a neutral expression, his posture casual but alert.
“Looking for company, Daddy?”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed just slightly, and his jaw tightened.
“What, too on the nose?” Dick teased, his grin widening.
Bruce leaned in. “Robin.”
Dick smiled, and grabbed Bruce’s wrist. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s find somewhere private.”
Bruce didn’t reply, though the faint twitch of his eyebrow betrayed his irritation. Dick slid into the passenger seat of the black sedan and they pulled up the window. Bruce took a moment and drove 15 minutes away into an abandoned parking lot.
As soon as they were alone, the act dropped.
“Kori?” Bruce asked.
“I’ve made contact, but she’s sharp,” Dick confirmed. “Didn’t blow me off completely. I think she’s curious.”
“Good,” Bruce replied. “But don’t rush this. She won’t trust you easily, and if she’s connected to the Red Hoods, she’ll test you.”
“Any suggestions for earning her trust?”
“She’s got connections to the gang, but people like her don’t survive in places like this by being careless. Figure out what she values. What keeps her loyal.”
“I can already tell that she’s not just another informant,” Dick said, shaking his head. “She’s got too much of a presence to her. She handles all the collections for the workers on the stroll.”
“I need you to find out what her angle is,” Bruce said, his tone firm. “Play the part, but don’t let it consume you.”
“Relax, Daddy,” Dick teased. “Ricky’s got this.”
Bruce ignored the statement, his focus unrelenting. “Remember the codeword. No exceptions.”
Dick rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“If something feels off, disengage. Immediately.”
“Got it,” Dick said, straightening up. “Anything else?”
Bruce hesitated for a moment, then spoke quietly. “Be careful out here. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
Dick’s smirk softened, a flicker of sincerity breaking through. “I always am.”
Bruce dropped him back to the same stretch of pavement. Dick slid out of the passenger seat, adjusting his leather jacket with a practiced, casual air.
“Thanks for the ride, Daddy,” Dick called, letting his voice carry. Bruce gave him one last look, before getting back into the car. Dick watched the taillights disappear into the dark, leaving him alone under the flickering streetlight.
In the next few hours, Dick met with four more planted Johns.
He slid into four cars, and allowed them to drive him to the outskirts of Gotham.
After the last planted client, Dick pulled out a cigarette. Dick had started smoking a few weeks prior attempting to get his lungs used to it. In Crime Alley, everyone smoked. It’s an easy way to initiate a conversation with someone else, easy to come over and ask to bum a cigarette or to offer to light someone else’s. He hadn’t even finished lighting his cigarette when he heard the familiar sound of heels clicking against the pavement.
The sun was beginning to crack through the skyline as Kori Anders emerged from the shadows, her metallic gold dress catching the light like molten fire. She tilted her head, watching him with an amused smile.
“Look at you,” she said, her voice smooth and teasing. “Still in one piece after your first night. I’m impressed.”
Dick exhaled a stream of smoke, leaning lazily against the lamppost. “Didn’t realize surviving was an achievement around here.” He handed her over the cash. "Fifteen percent as promised.”
Kori arched an eyebrow, counting the money and stowing it into her clutch.
“Hmm, this is more than I expected you’d make on your first night. I’m impressed. Plenty of fresh faces don’t make it past an hour. Crime Alley’s not kind to newcomers.”
She grabbed a cigarette from her bag, and held it out for Dick to light it.“Good thing I’m not exactly new,” Dick responded as he flicked his lighter with a flourish before holding the flame steady. She leaned in, her green eyes meeting him as she lit her cigarette. “Been out of the game for a while, but I’ve got a little experience. Figured it was time to come home, see if I still had what it takes.”
Kori studied him for a moment. “You think Crime Alley’s the place to start fresh?”
“Start fresh?” Dick scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Let’s call it unfinished business. Places like this have a way of pulling you back whether you want it to or not.”
She laughed softly, her voice carrying just enough warmth to cut through the chill in the air. “Yeah, that’s Crime Alley for you. It has a way of sinking its hooks under your skin. If you can tough it out.”
Dick smirked “I’m as tough as they come. Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”
“We’ll see. You’ve got the looks like I said, but looks don’t mean much if you can’t handle yourself when things get messy.”
“Messy’s my middle name.”
Kori shook her head, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her amusement. “You’re cocky. That’ll get you killed—or get you somewhere interesting. Maybe both.”
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, sharing their cigarettes and watching the occasional car pass by.
“Welcome back to Crime Alley, Ricky,” Kori said finally, “Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to stick around.”
____________
Ricky Kelly’s first week in Crime Alley was chaos. The city didn’t just breathe danger; it thrived on it, and the streets demanded he match their rhythm or be swallowed whole.
Dick had spent most of the second day finding his footing. He made small talk with other sex workers loitering by the same stretch of cracked pavement. He flirted with the patrons who drifted in and out of the dive bars, trying his best to gauge who might be useful and who was best avoided.
Kori was around, drifting in and out of sight. She watched him the way a cat watches a mouse—curious, maybe amused, but always with an edge of predatory caution. Whenever their paths crossed, she would toss him a playful jab or a knowing look, but mostly she kept her distance, letting him prove himself without interference.
By midweek, Ricky had started to attract attention, not just from potential clients but from the regulars who worked the same corners. He played up his charm, leaning on his fabricated history when the inevitable questions about his past came up.
Kori was a frequent companion during his downtime. She would lean against a lamppost or sit on the curb with him, their conversations idle gossip about the regular johns that frequented the stroll. Their banter grew more comfortable, less barbed. She started offering him tips—how to spot a potential client from a block away, which bars to avoid when the wrong crowd was inside, and how to keep himself safe when things went sideways.
“You’re fitting in faster than most,” she remarked one night, her green eyes glinting in the low light. “Doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods, though.”
“Didn’t come here expecting a warm welcome,” Dick replied, blowing out a stream of smoke. “Figured I’d have to earn my place.”
Kori tilted her head, her gaze narrowing slightly. “And what’s your angle? Everyone’s got one.”
Ricky flashed a lopsided grin “Same as everyone else. Trying to make it through the day without getting myself killed.”
_________
After three weeks Ricky and Kori found themselves in an easy rhythm.
The night air was thick with the stale scent of the alley, a mix of smoke, sweat, and exhaust. Dick leaned against a brick wall, flicking his lighter open and shut as he watched Kori wrap up a conversation with her last client of the night. The man handed her a small wad of cash before walking away, his steps quick and deliberate, like he wanted to disappear.
Kori caught Dick’s eye and sauntered over. “You’re still here?” she asked, her voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and amusement.
He smirked, pocketing the lighter. “What can I say? I like ending my night by looking at beautiful people. And Kori, you are the most beautiful person out here.”
Kori rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. “So, what’s the excuse tonight? Waiting for another client, or just bored?”
Dick shrugged, pushing off the wall. “Actually, I was waiting for you. I was thinking about breakfast. There’s that diner around the corner, Lucky’s. Greasy food and bad coffee sounds like a perfect way to cap off a long night. What do you say?”
“Breakfast?” Kori raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You buying?”
“Of course,” Dick said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “One of my customers tonight was feeling very generous. Thought I’d spread the wealth.”
Kori studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Generous, huh? Lucky you.”
“Lucky us, since I’m treating you” Ricky said, grinning. “So, what do you say? Pancakes and bad coffee on me?”
She hesitated, glancing down the street toward her usual route home. Then, with a small nod, she said, “Sure. Why not?”
The diner was a total dive,a narrow space with cracked vinyl booths and a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked in years. The waitress, a tired woman with a beehive hairdo, poured them both coffee without asking and slid two sticky menus onto the table.
Ricky didn’t bother opening his. “I’ll take pancakes. Extra syrup.”
Kori flipped through hers half-heartedly. “Eggs and toast,” she said, handing it back.
As the waitress shuffled away, Kori leaned back in the booth, her eyes fixed on Ricky. “You know, most of my dates don't take me to places like this. They’re usually trying to impress me. You know, fancy restaurants, nice views, that sort of thing.”
“Most of your customers aren’t me. And this isn’t a date. You’re about $300 short for a date. But if you’re interested, I may cut you a special rate, a “friends and family” discount."
Kori snorted, shaking her head as she scanned the menu. “Oh, is that right? And what’s included in this ‘friends rate,’ Ricky?”
He tapped a finger to his temple, feigning deep thought. “Well, for starters, you get my charming company. That’s priceless on its own. And then it’s me on the menu.”
Kori laughed. “Yeah, you’re really selling me on this. You’re a special one, Ricky Kelly.”
“Guilty as charged.” He answered with a grain.
The food arrived quickly, and they ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Kori spoke again, her tone softer. “You’ve been here for what, three weeks now?”
“About that,” Dick said, cutting into his pancakes.
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “You seem like you’ve done this before. You’ve got that... ease about you.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly start yesterday. Let’s just say I’ve got some experience in the trade.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re not half bad at it. That’s more than I can say for some of the guys around here.”
“High praise coming from you”
By the time they stepped out into the early morning light, Dick felt something shift. Kori wasn’t just tolerating him anymore. She was warming up to him, her walls starting to crack.
As she lit a cigarette and passed it to him, Dick took a drag and smiled. “Thanks for letting me drag you out.
Kori took the cigarette back, smirking. “Don’t get used to it. But hey, you survived the night—and the coffee—so I guess that’s something.”
“Guess so,” Dick said, his grin softening into something more genuine.
As they parted ways, Dick couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. The Red Hoods were still a distant goal, but with Kori on his side, he was one step closer to earning their trust and completing the mission.
____
Two months had passed since Ricky Kelly had first set foot in Crime Alley, and the rhythm of his days had settled into something surprisingly familiar. Every night on the stroll, he’d see Kori, and they’d exchange banter, laughs, and cigarettes. What started as a simple way to win her trust had slowly become something deeper, more real. Ricky had learned a lot about Kori—the way she carried herself with a sharp edge to protect her heart, the way her smile seemed to light up the darkness around them when she let it, and how she could soften when she let her guard down.
That night, as they walked together toward their usual spot after their shifts, Kori seemed quieter than usual. She had been chainsmoking, dozens of butts littered in front of her. Her eyes were missing their usual spark.
“Everything okay?” Dick asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
Kori took a long drag from her cigarette before responding, her voice softer than usual. “It’s coming up,” she said, her gaze fixed on the street ahead.
Dick frowned, unsure of what she meant. “Coming up?”
“The last Friday of the month,” she said quietly, her voice almost inaudible over the sounds of the alley. She took a breath and gestured at Dick to follow her. “It’s… my birthday. And it’s the day my mom went missing.”
Dick didn’t say anything right away, not wanting to push too hard. Instead, he matched her steps.
“It was my 12th birthday. I had this whole thing planned. She’d promised that we were going to the movies. That she was going to make me my favorite cake: red velvet. But we never made it to the movies, and we never ate any cake. The last time I saw her was the night before my birthday. I had begged her to let me open my birthday present early and she agreed. She had gotten me these glow-in-the-dark stars. The last thing we did together was when she helped me hang them from my bedroom ceiling.”
Dick stopped in his tracks, his heart tightening in his chest as he watched Kori for the first time really open up to him.“Glow-in-the-dark stars?” he asked gently, trying to keep the mood light.
A small, wistful smile flickered across her face, but it was quickly gone. “Yeah. They were cheap as hell, but I thought they were magic. That was one of the last things we did before she—” She trailed off, eyes focused on the groun.
Dick nodded slowly, swallowing a lump in his throat. “That sounds like a nice memory.”
Kori nodded, her voice tight. “It was. It was one of my favorite memories I have of her. But then, about three weeks later… my sister… she sold them.”
Dick frowned, the weight of her words settling on him like a cold, heavy stone. “Sold the stars?”
“Yeah,” Kori said, her tone bitter now. “Sold them for weed. She ripped them off the ceiling and sold them. The last thing Mom and I had done together, and my sister—” She stopped herself, taking a shaky breath.
Dick took a moment giving her the space to keep talking if she needed to.
Kori exhaled a shaky breath, clearly trying to compose herself. “She took the stars, sold them, and just like that, my mom was gone. And no one cared. Like it wasn’t even a big deal. They just kept asking me what happened, like I had answers. But I didn’t. I was just a stupid kid.”
“You weren’t stupid, Kori. You were just a kid. There’s no way you could’ve known.”
She scoffed bitterly, looking up at the dark sky above them. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it coming.”
“No one can know everything,” Dick said quietly. “Sometimes, life just throws shit at you. And it’s not fair.”
For a long moment, they stood there in silence, the noise of the alley fading into the background as Kori took another drag of her cigarette. Finally, she spoke again, her voice low but steady.
“Every year it gets a little harder to remember her the way she was. She’s just a ghost now. Maybe it’s for the best. It’s just so painful to remember.”
“I’m sorry Kori. I know what it’s like to feel haunted by grief, when even your happiest memories feel tainted by grief. But you’re not alone in it, right? If you need to talk—”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Ricky.” Her tone was soft, almost grateful, but still guarded.
They stood there for a while longer, neither of them rushing to speak. Kori seemed to be lost in thought, while Dick kept his distance, allowing her the space she needed. When she finished her cigarette, she dropped it on the ground and crushed it beneath her boot.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, not looking at him directly. “For listening. I’m not really good at talking about this stuff.”
Dick gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re good. You don’t have to talk about it. But if you need to, I’m here.”
She didn’t respond right away, but for the first time in a while, there was a softness in her gaze, a kind of quiet acceptance. She gave him a nod, and the two of them continued down the alley, the night air cooler now as the first signs of dawn began to break.
_________
The last Friday of the month arrived, the day that loomed so heavy over Kori for as long as Dick had known her. He had spent weeks preparing, planning for this moment, not just as part of the mission but because, despite everything, he had come to care about her. That night, as they met near their usual spot on the stroll, Dick felt a quiet nervousness that he hadn’t expected.
Kori had been quieter than usual all week, her moods fluctuating as the anniversary of her mother’s disappearance drew closer. He could see it in the way her eyes were often distant, lost in thoughts only she knew. He had been trying to give her space, trying to follow her lead, but tonight—tonight, he wanted to do something different.
Dick pulled out a small, velvet box from his jacket pocket, his fingers trembling slightly. He held it out to her when she approached.
“What’s this?” Kori asked, looking at the box curiously, her expression guarded but intrigued.
“Just a little something,” Dick replied, his voice soft as he passed the box to her. It was wrapped in purple vinyl gift wrap with a gold bow on top.
Kori opened it slowly, her eyes widening when she saw the beautiful gold-coated bracelet inside, a delicate chain with a small star-shaped charm. It wasn’t extravagant, but it held its own simple beauty.
“Happy birthday,” Dick said, his voice gentle, his heart in his throat. “I know it’s a tough day, but I thought you deserved something to remember it by, to remember her by.”
Kori didn’t immediately respond. She stared at the bracelet, her lips slightly parted as she seemed to process the gesture.
“I… didn’t expect this,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “Thank you, Ricky. It’s beautiful.”
Dick gave a small, self-conscious shrug, trying to play it off with a grin. “It’s nothing, really. Just wanted to do something for you.”
For a moment, they stood there, the streetlights casting long shadows around them as Kori continued to study the bracelet in her hand, lost in thought. He just let the silence hang between them, the weight of the night not quite so heavy as it had been before.
“I’ll wear it,” Kori said finally, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist with a small, almost sad smile. “Thank you.”
Before he could say anything else, she leaned in and gave him a quick, unexpected hug.
“You really didn’t have to,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
“I wanted to,” Dick replied, feeling a warmth in his chest.
________________________________
Later that night, Bruce stopped by the SRO room for a debrief.
“You did good tonight.”
“I just gave her a bracelet, Bruce,” Dick replied, turning toward him, feeling a little defensive. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It was a gesture. Emotional manipulation can be just as effective as any other tool we have in our arsenal. You’ve made progress. She’s trusting you more now.”
Dick's jaw tightened at the mention of emotional manipulation. It felt wrong, even if it was part of the mission. “I didn’t do it for the mission, Bruce,” he said, his voice low. “I did it because I care about her. I like her.”
Bruce didn’t respond immediately, his gaze steady on Dick. After a long pause, he spoke again. “It’s a dangerous thing to let emotions get involved in a job like this.”
Dick leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’m not talking about the job. I don’t want to think about the mission right now. I just—” He stopped himself, his words trailing off.
“You just what?” Bruce prodded.
Dick let out a deep breath, a part of him feeling the weight of what he was about to admit. “She’s not just some mark, Bruce. She’s not just someone I’m trying to get information from. If things were different—if we weren’t in the middle of this mess—I think she and I could’ve been friends. Or even something more.”
There was a brief moment of silence before Bruce finally spoke, his voice quieter now. “You know what the job demands. Emotions don’t fit into the equation.”
Dick nodded, feeling the familiar pull of his duty calling him back to the mission. But something inside him—a small part of him that was still human—resented the cold distance that came with that line of thinking. He didn’t answer Bruce right away, letting the words hang in the air between them.
“I’m not saying it’s easy,” Dick finally replied, his voice quiet. “But I think sometimes… sometimes we have to let ourselves care, even in a world like this.”
Bruce didn’t argue, but Dick could tell the older man didn’t quite understand. Still, the truth was, Dick wasn’t sure he understood it either. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Kori—whether it was just friendship or something more—but he knew, in that moment, that his feelings for her were no longer just part of the mission. They were real. And he wasn’t ready to let go of them.
“Just be careful, Dick,” Bruce said quietly, his tone a little softer now. “You’re treading dangerous waters.”
Dick’s lips curled into a small, rueful smile. “I know, Daddy.”
“Cut it out,” Bruce snapped, his voice low and serious.
Dick laughed not even a little bit sorry. “Sorry, old man. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
Bruce didn’t respond, but Dick could tell his discomfort was real. He let the joke hang in the air, watching Bruce’s stoic expression, before turning back to look out the window, the night outside seeming endless.
Dick knew there was no easy way to navigate what was happening with Kori, but for the first time, he was beginning to think that maybe he didn’t need a clear answer. Maybe he just needed to see where it went.