Confidence Lost (Part 2) a Batman/White Collar crossover fanfiction

by C. R. Scott Chapter 7 New York City… fifteen minutes later…

Robin had forgotten how fast Nightwing could move when gravity had absolutely no hold on his oldest brother. Damian's youth of body and spirit meant absolutely nothing tonight as he struggled to keep pace with the former circus acrobat as they dashed across rooftops and swung between buildings towards a very specific address.

Ten minutes earlier, after learning they had actually found their missing brother, the long lost Timothy Drake-Wayne, once Dick had recovered his composure he had immediately demanded a home address from Barbara, which she was all too glad to locate.

"87 Riverside Drive," Oracle informed them, and Nightwing was off like a shot, with Damian trailing behind.

Still, despite his initial annoyance with having to play catch up with Nightwing,

Robin couldn't help but enjoy the view in front of him. The man he saw ahead of him was someone he hadn't seen in years. For the first time in what felt like forever, Dick

Grayson was truly defying gravity. There were flourishes and flash in his leaps and flips.

From head to toe, he was the personification of sheer jubilation. Despite the uncertainty of his own feelings towards his formerly lost brother, Damian couldn't help but smile as he chased Nightwing down. Now that Dick, his favorite beloved brother, was truly happy, for the moment all seemed to be right with their world.

They finally came to a stop on the rooftop of a building that overlooked an old, but well kept white townhouse in Manhattan, just a few blocks away from Central Park.

Despite being completely out of breath, Nightwing moved to the edge of the roof and peered down at the townhouse.

"Is this it?" Damian asked about thirty seconds later when he finally caught up with his brother. His lungs burned and his muscles ached as he leaned against the railing, trying to catch his breath.

Nightwing didn't answer immediately. He was too busy scanning the darkened building. Searching for something… And then he froze when he found it.

"There!" he said as he shifted his position a few yards to the left. When Robin followed his brother's gaze, he saw several illuminated windows and an open balcony door on the top floor of the townhouse. A smile lit up Dick's face as he zeroed in on movement through the windows. "He's still a night owl."

"Send me a video feed!" Barbara said through the com link. "I want to see him too!" Of course the man she loves obliged as he activated that component of his mask.

She sees what he sees, and what she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Unaware of the late night audience he's just acquired, Neal Caffery was dealing with a bout of insomnia the only way he knows how. Dressed only in a pair of dark pajama bottoms and sporting several bruises from his earlier encounter with Damian, the lean, dark haired man was hard at work on his latest oil painting. He turned his focus from his art only long enough to refill his glass of wine and to readjust a nearby wall mirror, which seemed to be just a little too crooked for his tastes.

"He looks so grown up now," Barbara remarked quietly. Dick and Damian could hear the smile and the tears in her voice. "Definitely not seventeen anymore, but definitely our Tim."

Dick silently agreed with her as he leaned against the railing on the roof. He couldn't take his eyes off his younger brother. It all felt like a dream, seeing him alive and well and very much an adult. He watched with contentment as the man in the townhouse apartment decided to pull out a fresh canvas and start a new painting with quick broad strokes.

While his brother kept his eyes on Tim, Damian lingered in the shadows, occasionally casting glances towards the townhouse. Part of it was from discomfort. Of everyone in their family, he was the only one who hadn't believed that Tim could possibly be alive after his encounter with Ra's Al Ghul, his grandfather. He'd held no hope when he was ten year old, and that's the way it had been with him until just this evening. To be proven so thoroughly wrong after all this time was a shock, to say the very least.

The other part that made it hard to look at Tim were the bruises.

It wasn't that Damian still hated his other adopted brother. Over the years, he'd realized how much of a arrogant little bastard he'd been when he first came into his father's house to try and stake his claim as the heir to both Bruce Wayne's and Batman's legacies based on bloodlines alone. When he was ten, he'd wrongly assumed that his father had taken the usurper under his wing out of a sense of pity or sentimentality because he was an orphan. It wasn't until he was older that he was able to understand everything Tim had lived through, lost, and survived to get where he was in the family.

Nothing had been handed to him. Everything Drake had, he'd earned through blood, sweat, tears, and multiple trials by fire. At age seventeen now, Damian Wayne did not hate Timothy Drake. In fact, he had developed a quiet respect for his lost sibling. Alfred had explained the unfamiliar emotion to him once.

"There's a old saying," the aged butler had said back when Damian was fourteen and had been driving himself crazy with some of Tim's old encrypted files. "You never really know what you've got, until it's gone." Damian had stumbled upon several dusty forgotten hard drives in one of the old safe houses the Red Robin used to frequent, back when he'd gone rogue. Inside them was a veritable treasure trove of incomplete projects that Drake had never had a chance to bring to life. There were planned upgrades to his motorcycle and to the equipment for his uniform. He had a wing design in the works that would allow him to actually fly for short distances, instead of just gliding with the capes. Tim also had a theoretical concept for linking the capture of one criminal directly to the next one. Something he called the "hit list". To Damian, the discovery of this wealth of knowledge was inspiring.

At least, it was until he started to wonder how much more he could've learned from Tim if he'd actually survived... or even if he'd actually been nicer to him when they first met.

In the end, Damian began work trying to complete some of his brother's projects, as a quiet tribute to his memory. The uniform he wore as Robin today was his first. The hit list concept was one he finally perfected last year. This year, his pet project was the flight suit.

And so, after all that, it actually made Damian feel a little ashamed that, once again, the first meeting between him and his brother resulted in bruises and bloodshed, although the more sensible side of him kept repeating that if he hadn't punched Tim in the head a few times, he'd never have gotten that blood sample for Barbara.

Still, Robin stood back.

He couldn't look at the bruises.

"Damian? Do you hear me?"

Robin looked about. Nightwing hadn't budged from his spot, so he knew Barbara was only talking to him. "Yeah," he whispered as he silently shifted further away from his brother. "What's up?" Oracle's voice was guarded now. "There's... something I don't understand. You did say Tim's current alias is Neal Caffery, right?"

"Of course. That's how we found his address. Why?"

"Something else came up with his name when I ran it through the system.

Sending you the files now. Make sure Nightwing doesn't see them."

After taking a second glance to make sure his brother's attention was firmly occupied elsewhere, Robin flipped on his virtual palm top computer, which consisted of a holographic projection of a small computer screen from a micro emitter on his gauntlet. The files Oracle sent him popped up immediately on the screen, and he furrowed his brow as he scanned them. "I think you sent me the wrong files," he said.

"This looks like one of Selina's old rap sheets."

"They aren't the wrong files," Barbara insisted. "Take a closer look. Those are documents from the FBI and Interpol on Neal Caffery."

Robin took a closer look at the files, and his eyes widened in surprise. "What the hell is this, Oracle? Money laundering? Embezzlement? Art forgery?"

"I don't know all the details," Barbara said solemnly, clearly the wind taken out of her sails from earlier. "All I know is that as far as the FBI and Interpol are concerned,

Neal Caffery is one of the world's most notorious white collar criminals."

"Um... Guys," Nightwing's voice caught Robin's attention. "I think I've just been made."

"What makes you say that?" Robin asked.

Nightwing looked down at the townhouse once more. Still cloaked in shadows, he followed his brother's gaze again, this time using his own mask's telescopic lenses to get a closer view of what he was seeing. Down in the townhouse apartment, Neal Caffery was working rapidly on his new painting. It was a hastily painted picture of the wall mirror he adjusted a few minutes earlier... And the reflection in that mirror was the building the two vigilantes were currently perched upon. The last stroke of paint Neal put on the canvas was a small, but obvious, crimson V on the rooftop.

Nightwing sheepishly glanced back at Robin. "Just a hunch?" Author Notes: Here in Chapter 7, after the emotional revelations of the previous chapter, here we get a small look at the how Damian feels towards Tim

Drake. The boy has grown up quite a bit in the last seven years. He's not quite the blood-thirsty, short-tempered, arrogant kid with an entitlement complex he used to be.

Well, he's still short tempered, but at least Neal didn't require a hospital visit. Chapter 8 New York City… a moment later…

Dick had never felt more nervous about anything in his life. After instructing

Damian to remain on the rooftop, which the teen oddly had no argument against, he

took out his grappling gun and made his way to the balcony where his brother was

waiting. He could feel his heart thudding in his ears as he silently landed just a couple of

yards away from Tim.

Observing his brother from the distant rooftop through telescopic lenses was

nothing compared to standing within arms reach of him. This close up he could see how

much Tim had grown over the years. Though he obviously gained in height and was now

maybe two or three inches shorter than Dick, he was still obviously the shortest of all of

Bruce Wayne's sons, adopted or otherwise. Despite not being a vigilante any more, it

looked like Tim still took good care of himself. There was one curious observation that

Dick filed away for contemplation later.

His scars were all missing.

Over his years of work as Robin, Tim Drake had collected a generous amount of

battle scars, like everyone else in their family who fought crime. Gunshot wounds,

stitched up blade injuries, burn scars, etc. However, as Dick stood there looking his

brother over, he could see nothing but clear, unmarred skin across his upper body.

"Took you long enough," Tim said after taking a moment to drain the last of his

wine. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show up."

Dick raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "You were expecting me?"

The man before his shrugged. "Of course. I know what you're here for." He

motioned for his brother to follow him into his home.

Dick was at a loss for words. Tim was expecting him? Did his memory return between the incident at the gallery and now? Wordlessly, he stepped into the well-lit apartment and absorbed all he saw. Though this was clearly a studio apartment, what it lacked in size it made up for in style. It looked like Tim had developed a taste for good art, antique furniture, classic novels bound in leather, and fine wines. The only sign of his former addiction to all things hi-tech was a small unassuming laptop on his dining table next to the kitchen.

It definitely wasn't the typical bachelor pad he kept when he was the same age as

Tim, and Dick was certain Alfred would be praising the Lord almighty that at least ONE of his boys developed a sense of good taste.

"Here. Catch."

"Huh?" Dick was distracted from his observation by a small black remote tumbling through the air at him. His quick reflexes allowed him to snag the object before it had a chance to rebound off his chest. "What's this?"

Tim shrugged. "That is how I got into the vault in the Wayne art exhibit this afternoon."

Dick stared at the device with confusion. "You think I'm here for this?"

"Of course. Why else would you be here?" Tim poured himself another glass of wine. "I tried to tell Peter that Bruce Wayne would have someone from the cape and cowl set watching over the gallery. Must be nice having the Batman in your back pocket."

The derisive tone of voice coming out of the man who looked like his brother stung, and Dick had to resist the urge to wince. The dreamlike quality of the evening had come to a screeching halt. Quickly, he was reminded that while yes, this man was Tim

Drake, he didn't know that. His brother was calling himself Neal Caffery, and Neal Caffrey had never met Dick Grayson or Nightwing. In fact, Dick came to the late realization that he had next to no clue who Neal Caffrey was. "It doesn't sound like you care too much for folks like me," he remarked casually as he made a show of looking over the device. He honestly couldn't make heads or tails of things like this. This kind of object was the sort of thing he'd give to Damian or Barbara to puzzle out.

Neal smirked. "Well, in my previous line of work, avoiding you and your comrades was kind of the point."

"And what was that work?" Dick's curiosity was piqued.

A surprised look crossed Neal's face, before melting into amusement. "Wow...

And here I thought my reputation preceded me with nearly every law enforcement agency in the world." He shook his head and meandered over the mirror. "Although, I suppose never having visited Gotham did do a lot to keep me off the Bat's radar."

Dick frowned. "You're not going to tell me?"

"Of course not." Neal said with a charming, yet extremely sly grin. "You people have a reputation for being detectives to uphold. I can't just give you the answer. That, would be an insult to your competence."

If Dick didn't know better, he'd have sworn up and down he was bantering with

Selina Kyle back during the height of her Catwoman days. It was an uncomfortable comparison, to say the very least, and triggered more questions than he knew what to do with. He tumbled the device in between his fingers.

"I suppose that would be the same answer if I asked you exactly where you got this thing?"

Neal flashed him another thousand-watt smile.

"Well then," Dick said as he pocketed the device in an empty pocket on his utility belt. "I suppose we're done here. It's been an enlightening visit."

"Oh we must do it again sometime," Neal said as he followed Dick to the balcony.

"It's been fun. Although, next time, call ahead first. We can do tapas. I know this great little Spanish place just down the road."

He was mocking him! Tim—no Neal- was mocking Nightwing! He obviously held no great fondness for masked vigilantes, but he wasn't at all intimidated by one in his home. If Dick didn't know that this was really Tim, he'd have thought he just spent the last few minutes with Selina Kyle's non-existent cocky little brother. The realization made Dick's head spin. He pulled out his grappling gun and aimed it for the nearby rooftop. Before he let the line fly, he glanced over his shoulder at Neal. "It was nice to meet you, Neal."

"Pleasure was all mine."

Dick was quickly back on the rooftop where Damian had been waiting. The teen had a stoic expression on his face, as he normally did to the untrained observer.

However, Dick was an expert in reading his youngest brother's subtle facial cues. As soon as he saw Robin, he could tell the teen knew more than he was letting on. Dick frowned as he turned opened up the com link with Barbara once more and spoke with both of them at once.

"Alright you two. I want everything you have on Neal Caffrey, and I want it now." Author Notes: The dream-like state has ended for Dick Grayson, and now the reality of the situation has settled into place. Neal Caffrey does not like costumed vigilantes. Neal Caffrey was once in a profession where avoiding them was a high priority. Neal Caffery's silver tongue reminds him too much of Selina Kyle's. And tomorrow morning, Dick Grayson has an appointment with Peter Burke. Chapter 9 New York City… the next morning…

Rather than wait for Special Agent Peter Burke to show up at the art gallery,

Richard Grayson made it a point to head on down to the FBI's offices there in New York

City first thing in the morning. It was around nine am when he exited the elevator on the floor where Burke's office was.

"Mr. Grayson," Peter said with surprise when Jones showed Dick to his office. He rose up from his seat to offer his hand. "I wasn't expecting you to come looking for me this early in the day. I was just reviewing the security report for the gallery. Please have a seat."

Dick shook Peter's hand warmly and offered him a friendly smile. "Well, the security report was only part of why I decided to stop in today." He glanced over at the still open door that Jones was standing in front of. "Could we speak in private for a moment?"

Peter nodded and inclined his head to Jones, who left the office, closing the door securely behind him. Then he turned his full attention to the man sitting on the other side of his desk. "So what can I help you with, Mr. Grayson?"

"Well, it's about what happened yesterday," the younger man said with an uncomfortable expression. "About... my behavior with your agent after my brother's altercation with him." It wasn't hard for Dick to slip back into the role of a heartsick man desperate for any chance of finding his long lost brother. "I know it must have been very unexpected, but..."

"It's quite alright," Peter reassured him. "I may not have been on the case back then, but I do know about your missing younger brother. I'm just sorry that no one has been able to find him yet." "Are you sure about that?" Dick took a more desperate tone as he spoke, half- rising out of his chair. "That agent of yours yesterday-"

"Consultant."

"Excuse me?"

Peter shook his head. "Neal is not officially an agent of the FBI. He's more of an independent consultant with a specialty on white collar crimes."

Dick filed this bit of information away and moved on with his act. He sat back down heavily in his seat. "Agent, consultant... It doesn't matter. I know who I saw, Agent

Burke! That man could be Tim's twin! Is there any chance at all that this Neal Caffery could be my brother?"

As Peter and Dick spoke behind closed doors, the man they were talking about finally stepped into the FBI offices.

"There you are, Neal. Where have you been?" Jones asked as the former con artist took off his hat.

"Dentist," Neal said simply. Then he looked up and noticed a closed door that normally wasn't. "What's going on with Peter? Did a new case walk through the door while I was out?"

"Not sure. Peter said something about a security report for a gallery?"

Recognition dawned on Neal's face. "Ah. That would be Richard Grayson." He raised an eyebrow at the man's body language. "He seems pretty upset about something."

Jones gave Neal a sidelong look. However, before he could say a word, Diana chimed in from her desk with her two cents. "You didn't actually make it out with anything when you broke into that gallery, did you, Neal?" "Please, give me a little credit, Diana," Neal said. At the knowing look she shot him, he shrugged. "I didn't even make it outside the building before I was busted, alright? I told Peter the security was tight on the place." He poured himself a cup of coffee and gingerly sipped at the hot liquid when he got back to his desk where a stack of paperwork waited for him. Neal picked up a file and opened it up, pretending to read its contents. However, his attention was squarely focused on Peter and the increasingly agitated man sitting in his office.

Meanwhile, Peter was trying to settle down his guest. He really hated being forced to snatch away a slim thread of hope from Grayson, but he needed to know the truth. "I kind of anticipated this," Peter explained as he pulled out folder from his desk.

"When I saw the records the bureau had on your brother's cold case, even I had to wonder if Neal wasn't Tim or not. So I had a friend in forensics compare a record we have of Neal's DNA with your brother's last night."

Dick took the offered folder and flipped it open quickly. His eyes widened in surprise. "The DNA doesn't match?" he said softly.

"I am sorry," Peter consoled. "I know the two of them look very similar, but their physical appearance is all they share."

Dick Grayson closed the folder as well as his own eyes. "I understand," he said after a long moment, seemingly needing it to recompose himself. "I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble, Agent Burke."

"Please, it wasn't any trouble, Mr. Grayson," Peter reassured him. "I am only sorry that I couldn't be of more help to you." He took the file back from Dick and placed it on his desk, alongside the security report folder.

"It's alright," Dick said as he rose to his feet. "I should be going though. I need to look over the security report and figure out what changes need to be made before the gallery opens next week." He picked up the security report and subtly slid the DNA file into it while Peter had gotten up to get the door for him.

From the other side of the etched glass door, Neal Caffery's sharp blue eyes zeroed in on that folder.

"Oh. I almost forgot," Dick said as he started making his way out the door, he turned back to look at Peter. "I've got a set of tickets to the gallery's opening reserved for

Neal as well as you and your wife. I do hope I'll get to see all three of you there next we— oof!"

"Oh! I'm sorry!"

Dick's retreat from Peter's office was cut short as he and another man collided with one another. The file he was carrying slipped to the floor along with the other three the man he'd run into had been holding. That person was kneeling now, quickly picking up the folders and putting their spilled contents back into their proper order. Dick froze when he saw the face of the man who offered him his folder back.

"I believe this belongs to you, Mr. Grayson? I hope the report helps you fix the gaps in the gallery's security." Neal said with an apologetic smile.

"Ah... Yes... Thank you. I'm sure it will," Dick said with a forced nonchalant air.

To Peter it seemed he was trying to keep his emotions in check in the face of someone who resembled his long missing sibling. "Till next week, Agent Burke," Dick said as he made his way out of the FBI offices and into the elevator.

Once he was out of the building and safely in his car, Dick opened up the folder, flipped through all the pages, and swore under his breath. Then he pulled out his cell phone. "Babs? It's me. Do you still have that backdoor into the FBI mainframe?" "Are you new here? Of course I do. Why?"

"I need you to locate the DNA records they have for Tim and Neal Caffrey and compare it with the sample you got from Damian. I swear to God, Babs, if the reason we didn't find Tim earlier is due to some federal clerical error, heads will roll."

"Did you at least get the bug into Burke's office?"

Dick smirked. "Are you new here?"

"Are you sure it's really necessary to spy on the FBI?"

"We can only gather so much information about Neal Caffrey from the records you've collected from your sources. He and Agent Burke seem to work together on many assignments. I think we can learn more about Tim's current state of mind by keeping an ear on the two of them."

He could hear Barbara sigh on the other end of the line. "Are you still dead set against calling Bruce in on this?"

Dick's smile faded. "I don't want to bring him in until we have as much intel gathered on Tim as we can. I... don't want to have a repeat of Jason's return."

"Tim is not Jason, and from what I've gathered so far, even Neal is not Jason."

"...So far. There are still a lot of unknowns about Neal Caffrey, and I don't want any surprises when we're ready to let Bruce know we've finally found Tim."

"Whatever you say, pixie-boots."

Meanwhile, back in the FBI offices, Neal was seemingly reading up on an insurance fraud case file at his desk. In actuality though, he was closely studying a very curious DNA comparison report that had happened to accidentally slip into his folders just a few minutes earlier. Author Notes: The story is starting to take a definite direction in my head. I have a general idea of where the characters are going, who else they will be running into along the way, and how it might end. I honestly have no idea how many chapters it will be before this tale is done, still.

In this chapter, though, it becomes a little clearer that Tim/Neal is to Dick what

Jason Todd is to Bruce. They are both the Robins that the Batmen "failed" and lost.

Both were seemingly felled by a dangerous mortal enemy to the Batman. And both have returned to the existences of their Bat-family with tarnished reputations in tow.

Jason remained a vigilante, but with no hesitation about using deadly force whenever necessary (and even when it wasn't necessary). Tim/Neal may not murder anyone, but he's still clearly a criminal who is one of the best at what he does. Chapter 10 New York City… that afternoon…

Neal had wondered if telling Mozzie about his late night visitor was a wise idea.

As he watched his best friend going over every nook and cranny of his apartment with a bug-detecting device with a frantic obsessive-compulsive fervor, he was starting to wish he hadn't.

"I'm pretty sure that Nightwing guy didn't have a chance to bug my closet," Neal said as he worked on his computer, which had already been Mozzie-approved. "He didn't even make it past the living room."

"Oh ye of little faith," Mozzie said as he finally satisfied himself with the confirmation that none of Neal's suits were covertly wired. "The bats are so much worst than the suits. It's not the one you see you have to worry about. It's the three in the shadows that you don't." The short bald guy whipped his head around, looking for some corner he hadn't thoroughly investigated yet. Then he made a beeline for the nearest window, opened it wide, and leaned halfway out it, continuing his sweep for bugs on the outside of the building.

"Hey! Will you cut that out? I don't want you falling out a third story window because of your paranoia." Neal got up from the table to try and drag Mozzie back into the building. However, before he could lay a hand on him, an insistent pinging began to come out of his friend's bug-detecting device, and Moz chuckled triumphantly.

"Aha! I knew it!" Mozzie leaned a little bit further out the window so he could reach for something that was just barely within his reach. "If I've told you once, Neal,

I've told you a thousand times. It's not paranoia-"

"-if they really are out to get you," Neal finished as he helped Mozzie back into the apartment. Moz then smugly dropped the nickle-sized listening device into the palm of his friend's hand.

Over in the secret command center tucked within the penthouse suite of New

York City's Wayne Tower luxury hotel, Damian Wayne was listening to the goings on in

Neal Caffery's home in stunned silence. "He found one of the bugs," the teenager said in disbelief. "How does that Mozzie guy have the tech necessary to sniff them out? Who is he, Barbara?"

"I couldn't tell you, little D," Barbara said over the live video chat on Damian's computer. "There is no record online anywhere of this 'Mozzie' character. Not even the

FBI or CIA have anything on him. Whoever he is, he's somehow managing to live in New

York City without leaving any kind of digital trail to follow. He's like a ghost."

"Alright Moz. You convinced me," Neal's voice chimed in over the speakers.

Damian turned his attention back to the screen. "Before you indulge in saying 'I told you so' let's find the rest of the bugs."

Back in his apartment, Neal was rolling up his sleeves and had moved into the center of the living room, examining the layout critically.

"What do you think?" Moz asked. "I know the bats had to have used more than one, but how many?"

Neal looked back to where Mozzie had found the first bug. He closed his eyes and thought for a long moment. "I think we'll find six—no, seven. We already know the bedroom and bathroom are clean. Besides, if there's anything of note that they want to listen to, it'll be in this area." He made a motion with his arms encompassing the living room, dining room, and kitchen."

"How many bugs did you plant this morning, D?" Barbara asked curiously.

Damian grimaced. "Seven." For the next half hour, Neal and Mozzie thoroughly combed the apartment, both inside and out. By the time they were done, they had all seven tiny listening devices gathered together in the center of Neal's dining table. The two men were sitting at that table, contemplating them over a bottle of wine while on the other side of the city

Damian was shaking his head in disbelief.

"They really are quite a marvel of high technology," Mozzie said as he picked up one of the bugs and examined it with a jeweler's eye loupe he had in his pocket.

"Yes, they are," Neal added.

"Whoever you bats are listening on the other end, I send my props to their architect. He or she is a technological virtuoso of the highest standards." He sighed, then turned to Neal. "They certainly are works of art. I almost feel bad about what I'm going to do to them now."

"Almost?"

"Almost. Hammer please."

Neal handed him a regular, everyday claw hammer. Then he silently watched as

Mozzie methodically and thoroughly smashed each bug into scrap.

Once Moz was certain that the listening devices were, indeed, all dead, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Do you feel better now?" Neal asked.

"Much." He wiped his brow. "I knew there was a chance that doing the Wayne security test job was attract the attention of the bats, but to go to all this?" Mozzie waved at the collection of scrap now cluttering the table. "You really didn't get away with anything yesterday, did you?"

"For all this trouble, I'm wishing I had," Neal remarked then shook his head. "But no... I don't think they're looking at me so close just because I got through their security." He reached over to his laptop and pulled out a piece of paper that had been tucked underneath it. Then he gave it to Mozzie, who scanned it quickly.

"Okay..." Moz said. "Why are the suits comparing your DNA with some guy named Timothy Drake-Wayne? Do they think you're some long lost Wayne heir?"

Neal turned the laptop around so that Mozzie could see what he was researching before he got up to help him with the bug hunt. His eyes widened when he saw the old

Gotham Gazette news articles Neal had found from seven years ago.

"I had a run in at the gallery yesterday with Wayne's oldest and youngest sons,"

Neal explained. "The older one seemed to think I looked just like his missing younger brother, so much so that he asked the FBI to check if I was or wasn't."

"Wow... The resemblance is uncanny," Moz said. "But why sic the bats on you?"

Neal shrugged. "Maybe Grayson just didn't want his little brother to vanish without a trace again before he got confirmation of who he was? He was pretty emotional this morning when Peter gave him these results."

"Then how did you get this? Did the suit give you a copy?"

"Of course not. This is the copy Grayson tried to slip out of Peter's office when he wasn't looking. I'll put it back tomorrow."

Mozzie gave the page another look-over, as well as the newspaper article on the laptop. "You know, Neal-"

"No."

"But-"

Neal sighed. "Moz, you know I have no problem with a little identity theft now and then. But this-" He tapped the computer screen. "-would be crossing a line." He got up from his chair and walked over to window, which was still open from their bug hunt.

Neal sat on the windowsill and looked out over the neighborhood. "It's one thing to take the identity of someone alive and well, or someone who is dead and buried. Timothy

Wayne is a missing person. He's probably dead, but there are members of his family still clinging to the hope that he'll one day be found alive. Even if I had the freedom to go to

Gotham City and try to pull off this level of con, I couldn't take advantage of a grieving family like that, no matter how wealthy they are."

Moz gave a mildly disappointed smile. "I suppose we all have our limits as to how far we'll go for the next big score. It's too bad that your line is there, but I can respect that."

Neal leaned against the window frame. "Besides... I don't have time to be distracted by people like Wayne or bats like Nightwing. I have bigger fish to fry."

"You're talking about Fowler, aren't you?" Mozzie said, all traces of his smile fading.

"I need to find him, Moz," Neal said grimly. "If I find him, I can find out why Kate died, and who is really responsible for everything that's happened."

"And for that, we need the music box."

Neal nodded. "Diana's got it. I know Peter wouldn't trust anyone else with it at this point."

"I'll see what I can dig up concerning her and the music box. If we can get a hold of it, we can use it as bait to draw Fowler out-"

"-and then I'll get some answers, one way or another."

When Mozzie looked at Neal, he noted the dark expression on the younger man's face as he brooded over the too recent death of the woman he loved. It made him uneasy. He knew that seeing Kate die right in front of his eyes had changed Neal. Exactly how much it changed him still remained to be seen.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Dick Grayson had finally returned to the hotel where his brother was examining the device Neal had given Nightwing.

"Wait? He found all the bugs?" Dick asked in surprised after Damian updated him on the lack of surveillance. "Every one?"

"Found them. Chatted to us through them. Then smashed them." Damian sounded frustrated as he pulled out a small circuitboard from the device and put it under his microscope.

Dick shook his head and massaged his temples. He was still happy that they had finally found their brother, but all the questions and mystery surrounding his current identity over the last seven years were absolutely maddening.

From the FBI and Interpol records, Neal Caffrey was allegedly a brilliant criminal mastermind suspected of over fifty different white collar crimes across the United States and Europe. However, only one charge was ever successfully pinned on him, and that was a bond forgery here in New York. The only man to ever capture Caffrey was Special

Agent Peter Burke. And for some insane reason that Dick still could not wrap his head around, Neal broke out of prison with just four months left on his sentence only to be recaptured by Burke yet again a few weeks later. However, instead of being sent directly to jail (do not pass GO... do not collect $200), he was offered a job as a consultant for the FBI. Things seemed to be going well for awhile there. He helped the FBI solve quite a few cases. He seemed to be on track to staying on the straight and narrow.

Then things happened. Things that involved an amber music box, a corrupt FBI agent, an exploding plane, and unfortunately a dead woman who happened to also be Neal Caffrey's long-time girlfriend.

As Dick began to wonder where the aspirin was in the hotel room, the com link to

Oracle began to ping. "I really hope you have some good news for me, Babs," he said after opening up the web chat.

"I wish I did, Dick," Barbara apologized. "I just got the info you wanted. You're not gonna like this."

"I already don't like this. Just, please, give it to me quick. Like ripping off a band- aid."

"Alright." A new window popped up on the computer screen. "I ran the DNA the

FBI and Interpol have for both Neal Caffrey and Timothy Wayne. The DNA for Neal

Caffrey for both of them matches my DNA records for our Tim." Barbara frowned.

"Their DNA for Timothy Wayne ended up matching someone completely different in my records. This wasn't just a glitch or a clerical error. Someone hacked those agencies and changed Tim's DNA record on purpose."

Dick felt that migraine strengthening behind his eyes. "So who's DNA is listed as

Tim's at the FBI?"

"Damian."

At the sound of his name, the teenager lifted his head from his research. "Yes,

Barbara?"

Babs shook her head. "No. I mean it's Damian's DNA they have on record."

"Wait, what?" Damian's eyes went wide. "You don't think—You can't think that

I'd-"

"Don't worry, I'm not accusing you, little D," Babs said in a reassuring tone.

"These records were hacked back when Tim first went missing. At that age, there was no way you could've hacked either of those agencies."

Dick felt his expression darken. "No... There's only one person I know with both the resources to successfully hack those agencies and the access to Damian's DNA." He slammed his clenched fist down hard on the table and glared balefully at the computer screen. "This is no coincidence. This is a god damn calling card!" Author Notes: And the plot thickens. In the first part we have Neal and

Mozzie having a pleasant afternoon of bug exterminating. Though it was interesting for Neal to learn that he was being mistaken for the lost Wayne heir, it's a development that pales in comparison to his quest to find Kate's murderer. On the other side of things, Dick gets his first solid lead into who could've turned Tim Drake into Neal Caffrey. Chapter 11 Cairo, Egypt… five years ago…

It had taken two years to track down Ra's Al Ghul. This was because one of Tim's last acts as Red Robin, the act that brought the fury of the demon's head down upon him, had been too successful. Immediately after Tim's kidnapping, Dick, Damian, and many other members of their extended network of friends and family had searched the world over for any sign of the League of Assassins, the organization Ra's headed. Only then did Dick realize the full extent of what Tim had done.

While reluctantly working with Ra's and the League in order to locate clues to find the missing Bruce Wayne, Tim had used the opportunity within the shadowy organization to bring it down from the inside out. The League's computer network had been completely dismantled, many of their bases worldwide had been destroyed, and its members were sent into disarray. Tim's plan had been a spectacular success, but it also made it near impossible for Dick and the others to track down Ra's through the usual channels when the Red Robin went missing.

Only after Bruce Wayne returned and joined the search was some semblance of progress finally made in tracking down Tim's kidnapper. The League had been quietly rebuilt, and over several weeks had been starting to take assignments, working even more covertly than they did in the past. Despite their caution, though, rumors concerning their rebirth made their way to Bruce Wayne's ears. These rumors were the reason Batman and Nightwing were cutting a vicious path through ancient, nearly forgotten catacombs beneath the city of Cairo.

"Where's Ra's?" Nightwing growled as he had one of his escrima sticks pressed hard against the Adam’s apple of one of the Demon's Head's most trusted assistants.

"Talk Ubu! Where the hell is your master?" In the dim lighting, the red lenses of his mask, and the new red accents of his uniform gave the enraged vigilante a more menacing, almost demonic expression. When the muscular bald assistant stubbornly refused to answer his questions, Nightwing pulled back his other arm and brought his other escrima stick crashing against his skull. "Where the hell is my brother?"

Batman had to grab Nightwing's arm on the younger man's upswing to prevent him from pummeling Ubu into unconsciousness or worse.

"Stop!" he ordered as he held his eldest son's wrist with a vice-like grip. He tightened it when Nightwing tried to pull it free.

"Let me go!"

Batman's eyes narrowed. "There's no need. Ra's is here, and he's going to invite us to whatever inner sanctum he's got himself holed up in-" He looked up and around. "- aren't you?"

From the communicator hooked to his assistant's belt, a grim elderly voice with an Arabian accent spoke forth. "Bring the Detective and his son to me, Ubu."

Ubu stifled a groan as he eased himself gingerly to his feet. "Yes, master." Though he shot Nightwing a steely glare, he turned on his heel and obediently led the two vigilantes through the maze of halls to a secret doorway.

Before they entered the room, Batman traded a silent look with Nightwing. The younger man felt his jaw tighten as he ground his teeth in frustration. The look he got from his father spoke volumes to him. Batman was going to take the lead in speaking with Ra's, and Nightwing was going to restrain himself.

"Welcome, Detective," Ra's greeted coldly as the two masked men silently walked into his sanctum. The immortal leader of the League of Assassins was standing before a massive fire pit, its blazing flames a virtual barrier between them. "Cut the formalities," Batman growled. "Where's my son?"

"To the point as always," Ra's said, the corners of his lips twitching upward almost imperceptibly.

"Where is Timothy?" Nightwing shouted as he tried to storm forward. The flames from the fire pit flared high, preventing him from getting any closer to Ra's than his father. "What did you do to him?"

Ra's face hardened. "What makes you think, after all he did to my organization, that he's even still alive after all this time?" The old man's eyes narrowed. "I promised

Timothy there would be consequences to his actions."

Nightwing's heart clenched. "No... He can't be," Despite himself, despair etched itself on his face.

"Your brother, your son, is dead," Ra's said stoically. "Your family should be no stranger to loss. If you wish to take your revenge, then you are welcome to try at a later date. But leave this place now, or else your family will have two more lost members to grieve."

The younger vigilante's vision was blurring from his tears. His tightened fists were trembling. Nightwing wanted nothing more than to leap across the flames and pummel the Demon's Head into oblivion, his oath to never kill be damned. The only thing that stopped him, that angered him more than Ra's own words, was the lack of reaction from the man at his side. "Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked Batman, his voice hoarse from his barely restrained grief. "How can you be so god damned calm?

Tim-"

"He's lying."

Until this point, Batman had been as still as a statue, his eyes watching ever movement of his most dangerous opponent, his ears catching every nuance of his voice.

If anyone knew Ra's Al Ghul well, beyond his own children, it was the Dark Knight. Ra's eyes glared daggers at Batman as Nightwing looked at his father in surprise.

"What?"

Batman's eyes never left Ra's. "If he had really killed Tim, after everything your brother accomplished in thwarting his plans, do you honestly think Ra's would have waited almost a full two years to reveal his fate to us? No. For Tim's perceived hubris against him, Ra's would have made it a point to make an example of him, to reassure those who seek the League's favors that they aren't so weak that a single, teenage, masked vigilante can dismantle them so utterly from the inside out."

Nightwing's attention shifted to Ra's as his father spoke, and he noted how the immortal man's face darkened with every word out of Batman's mouth. Every word spoken struck true, and with every strike a glimmer of hope began to reveal itself.

"He escaped, didn't he?" Nightwing said quietly, that glimmer brightening as Ra's scowl deepened.

Batman almost smiled... Almost. "You blinked, and Tim slipped through your grasp somehow, and even you don't know where to find him."

"Get out, Detective," Ra's snarled, his own rage at being outwitted one last time by the Red Robin clearly evident now. "Go looking for your wayward, impudent child!

Let's see if you can't find him before my assassins can end him once and for all! Rest assured, though, if I find him first, I won't keep it to myself." He glared balefully at the pair of them. "I'll make sure he's sent back to you in pieces."

Later that evening, after making their way back to their hotel in Cairo, Bruce grimly nursed a generous glass of scotch as Dick was taking a lengthy shower in his own room. "Master Bruce," Alfred said with a concerned tone. "I would've thought that learning Timothy is still alive and not within Ra's Al Ghul's clutches would have made the two of you happier."

Bruce sighed. "This... is almost worse," he admitted darkly while staring deep into his glass.

"Sir?"

The man who was as much a son to Alfred as any living blood relation looked up at him with a tortured expression. "We have wasted two years hunting down the League, chasing down shadows, and now we know they haven't had Tim for God only knows how long. Where do we start looking for him now?" Author Notes: Flashback time. Before Tim disappeared, he did successfully manage to gut a good portion of the League of Shadows. If you want to read up more on this storyline, take a look at the Red Robin comic book, issues 5 through 12. Tim's success spurred Ra's into going after Bruce Wayne's family, friends, and legacy, which

Tim still ultimately thwarted. Back to the present in the next chapter. Chapter 12 New York City… back to the present... evening…

Dick didn't like it, but once Damian got an idea in his head about what he was going to do, it was hard to get him to shift off course. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He asked his younger brother as the teenager suited up. "I don't like the idea of you going out there alone."

"I'm not going alone," Damian reassured him. "I've already called Stephanie.

She's flying in from Gotham as we speak in one of the jets.

"Steph? Why her? Wouldn't Cass be better since you'll be in her neck of the woods?"

"Perhaps, but she's on an important mission with the Great Ten right now. She doesn't need the distraction. If we end up needing a third set of eyes, I'll give Cassandra a call, but not unless it's absolutely necessary."

Dick nodded. He felt a little reassured, but was still uneasy. "I want you to be careful out there in Hong Kong. That woman is not a person to be trifled with."

Damian tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "You're preaching to the choir again, Dick. Besides-" The teenager's lips twitched into a small, dark smirk. "-I'm not a person to be trifled with either." He brought his hood up over his head, then turned to walk towards the elevator to the roof of the hotel. "She made me that way, after all."

Meanwhile, it was just a little bit past sunset as Mozzie covertly tailed Diana, the woman he affectionately nicknamed the lady-suit. He was working hard to figure out exactly where Peter Burke's most trusted agent had possibly hidden the key artifact that he and Neal would need to figure out who was at the center of the conspiracy surrounding them all.

A music box. It wasn't just any music box, though. This was a rare, antique music box believed to have been once possessed by Catherine the Great as part of her widely fabled lost treasure, the Amber Room. This was a treasure that had, time and again, slipped through Neal's grasp in the past. It was for this treasure that the woman Neal loved,

Kate Moreau, had died.

Following Diana covertly was not an easy thing to accomplish, Mozzie quickly learned. The lady-suit was a formidable agent and as such was constantly aware of her surroundings. It wasn't until she met up with her girlfriend for dinner that evening that she finally dropped her guard, making it easier for the small bald man to keep tabs on her. The pair of women went to a nice bistro with an outdoor patio and live jazz musicians playing in the background. Since it was dinner time, it was easy for Moz to get a table on the side of the patio opposite Diana, so that he could keep his eyes on her, but she couldn't see him.

Still, he nearly jumped out his skin when he felt an unexpected familiar touch on his shoulder.

"Oh my god, Alex!" he exclaimed once he saw who tapped him. "Don't sneak up on a person like that." Moz glanced over at the Diana's table and was relieved to see that she still hadn't noticed him. He motioned for the woman to sit down across from him.

"I'm sorry Moz," Alexandra Hunter said as she took a seat, an amused smile gracing her face. "I saw you come in here and couldn't resist joining you."

"What are you doing here?" Moz asked with surprise. "Last I'd heard, you had a one-way ticket to Italy, flying on Air Fed."

The slender brunette gave him an uncomfortable look. "Yeah... In the end I wasn't really able to capitalize on their offer." She sighed. "Turns out that certain people there at the Italian Consulate had some high level connections with the Cosa Nostra. I think it will be a very long time before I'm able to set foot on Italian soil again."

Moz nodded knowingly. Just a few months ago the three of them (Alex, Neal, and him) had worked together to finally accomplish the previously impossible. They actually managed to get their hands on Catherine the Great's amber music box. However, because of some heat she'd acquired recently stateside, Alex had traded possession of the music box to the FBI in exchange for a ticket out of the country. When he spoke again, he kept his voice discrete. "So what are you doing now?"

"Well," she started, just as discretely. "I still need to get out of the country somehow, but I don't have the funds for it. Because of the heat I was already under before the Italian job, and now the additional heat after it, I'm having a hell of a time finding work. It's all I can do just to lay low right now."

The frustration was clear in her voice, and Mozzie felt badly for his old friend, although it was technically because of Neal that she'd gotten tangled up in the music box theft in the first place and not him.

"Well... How about this. You can crash at one of my places for the time being. I've got a contact in Detroit with some Krugerrands that need unloading. This should be a nice quiet job that should net you more than enough to get you out of the country."

Alex smiled brightly. She reached across the table to grasp Mozzie's hand gratefully. "You are the best, Moz! I knew I could count on you!"

Mozzie smiled back at her.

Then the woman's expression sobered a little bit. "So how's Neal doing? I heard about what happened to Kate. How's he holding up?"

The bald man's face similarly sobered. "Well, of course he's dead set on finding out who killed her. In order to do that, we need to find that Agent Fowler, and in order to find him we need..."

Alex made a face. "Don't tell me."

Moz nodded.

"Good grief," she muttered. "Small favor, Moz... If you guys need a third person to get a hold of that thing again, lose my number."

"I'll keep that in mind. Anyways, aside from that, Neal's doing about as well as can be expected, all things considered. Things are better when he's kept busy by the suits." Mozzie chuckled. "He just got done with a fed-sanctioned break-in at a new art gallery that's about to open up."

Her eyes lit up with interest at that. "Really? What for?"

"The exhibition of artwork is from Bruce Wayne's private collection," he told her.

"The Waynes themselves asked the feds to test their security measures, so they sent

Neal, lucky bastard."

Alex's expression was both curious and guarded. "Did Neal actually... y'know...

Do it?"

Moz shook his head. "He got nailed before he could get out of the building. Funny thing, though. He wasn't nailed by security. He was actually caught by Wayne's seventeen year old kid."

"Wow..." Alex murmured. "So Neal got face to face with one of the Waynes. Did he meet anyone else in the family? Perhaps Mr. Jet-Setting Patriarch himself?"

"No... I dunno where Bruce Wayne is, but I know Neal met his oldest son. That

Grayson fellow is the one overseeing the gallery set up."

Alex nodded, then noticed something out of the corner of her eyes. "Um... Moz? Were you tailing those two ladies over there in the corner?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Cause it looks like they're not going to be staying in that corner very long."

When Mozzie turned his full attention to Diana and her girlfriend, it was clear that the two of them were not at all happy. They were having some sort of heated argument and the woman who was not the lady-suit was preparing to storm off.

"Oh crap!" He tucked his head behind his menu to hide is face in case Diana turned towards them. But as soon as the frustrated pair left the patio, Mozzie was scrambling for his own exit. "I am so sorry to leave you like this, but I have to keep an eye on them. I'll meet you at the Saturday home tomorrow morning."

Alex smiled. "Bring muffins and all will be forgiven." She then shooed him off.

Once Mozzie had left the bistro, her expression became somber as she reached into her handbag and pulled out a cell phone. She herself left the bistro and wandered to a secluded alleyway where she could talk in relative privacy. The phone only had one number on speed dial, and she called it as soon as she could.

"It's been a long time, Promise," a female voice answered.

"We have a problem," Alex said. "Neal has met Grayson and Damian here in New

York."

There is a pregnant silence on the other end of the line. Alex bit her bottom lip nervously as she awaited the coming response.

"Do you know if there has been recognition by either side?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I heard about the reunion through a third party. I haven't seen Neal in person since Kate's death."

The voice in her ear is not happy. "You're to remain in New York City for the time being."

Alex is not happy either. "But what about the League?" she says with a trace of desperation. "They're close to finding me. I need to leave the country as soon as possible!"

"You will not set one foot off the island of Manhattan!" the voice ordered sternly.

"You owe your freedom from the League to me, or have you forgotten your debt?"

The brunette's head bows, even though she knows the person she's talking to cannot see it. "I haven't forgotten. Please accept my apologies. What would you have me do?"

There is another brief moment of silence as the woman on the other end of the line ponders the next course of action. "Get in contact with Neal and see if any of his memory has returned. Find out why the brothers are in the city in the first place. Allow your current alias to meet Richard if you must, but under no circumstances do you let yourself be seen by Damian. He can identify you and will blow your cover. When you have the information I need, contact me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Oh, and if there are any sightings of Batman or any of his brood working in the city, call me immediately."

"I understand."

The other line disconnected, and Alex turned off her cell. Her expression was troubled as she stood there in the alley, trying to recompose herself. A life she though she'd left behind years ago was closing back in on her, and she honestly wasn't sure if she'd be able to survive another encounter with it. Author Notes: This chapter actually makes references to details found in an episode of White Collar (Season 2) called "Copycat Caffrey". That episode is Alex

Hunter's official re-entry into the season, though some of the facts surrounding why she was in New York City instead of taking the one-way ticket to Italy after the Season

1 finale episode were relatively vague. So I built upon those details to help craft this chapter.

However, there is a twist.

In this story, just like Tim Drake/Neal Caffrey, Alex Hunter has a DC Universe alternate identity. In the Red Robin series, there are several brief encounters with a mercenary of vague alliances named Promise. Though she plays a relatively minor character in the comic book (although that may change from issue 24+), in this story she will play an integral role in the plot regarding how Tim Drake become Neal

Caffrey. My inspiration for this character is when I saw how similar Promise and Alex looked to one another. Chapter 13 Hong Kong… fifteen hours later…

"Robin... Much as I love our private missions together, just the two of us, can you just clarify one itty bitty little thing for me?"

"Hmm?"

Stephanie Brown, the current Batgirl, eyed the two well known assassins on either side of them as they walked down a long hallway in the high rise building they'd landed on just a few minutes earlier. "What the hell are we doing here?"

"I told you in the jet," Robin said crisply. "I need to speak to the leader of the

Council of Spiders, and I need someone I trust to watch my back."

"How do you even know who the leader of the Council of Spiders is?" Batgirl asked. "Ever since the Wanderer was found dead in Saudi Arabia several years back, no one's been able to figure out who took her place. All anyone knows is that they go by the name Sicarius."

"I know who it is."

Batgirl looked at Robin with surprise. "And how do you know?"

"I make it my business to know."

She glared up at him. "I hate it when you play cryptic with me. It wasn't cute when you were ten, and it's not cute now."

Robin and Batgirl had arrived in Hong Kong a handful of hours earlier, the trip from New York significantly shortened by the super sonic jet Stephanie had borrowed from his father's collection. Over the course of the entire trip, though, Damian said absolutely nothing about his reasons for going to Hong Kong on such short notice, despite Stephanie's burning curiosity. He talked about New York, the gallery, and the pizza. He didn't reveal anything about Tim Drake or Neal Caffrey. He convinced himself, through logic of course, that if she knew the truth, she'd be compromised emotionally and wouldn't work to the best of her ability. She and Drake were very close, once upon a time after all.

However, when logic was set aside, what was left was the fact that here he was, finally at a point where Stephanie didn't look at him as just a kid or jail bait anymore, and a ghost from her past had just returned to life. All the training in the world couldn't prepare him at all for the complexities of dealing with being in love in this kind of abnormal situation.

But then again... When has being in love with a costumed vigilante while being another costumed vigilante yourself ever not been an abnormal situation?

Batgirl looked to the front of them at the assassin named Wolf who was leading the way, then shifted her focus to the rear where the hulking form of the tarantula-like

Goliath was following close behind. "Do you honestly trust these guys to take us straight to their leader, just like that, without trying to stab us in the backs beforehand?"

"Oh I know they have all sorts of death dealing devices aimed at our backs,"

Robin said. "But I trust that fear of getting on their leader's bad side far outstrips their desire to see either of us dead or maimed. If she didn't want us here, they'd have already made the attempt." He glanced back at Goliath, the mutated human who sported a spider like face and several extra sets of arms. "Am I right?"

All four of Goliath's pupiless eyes narrowed dangerously. However, he didn't make any other threatening moves towards them. The older assassin in front of them wouldn't allow it.

"Calm yourself, Goliath," Wolf ordered sternly, not even bothering to glance back at his companion. When she felt the menacing aura behind them dissipate, Batgirl was both impressed and uneasy. "Your leader sounds scary," she said conversationally.

Wolf of course, didn't answer. He just kept on walking, but not for long. They'd finally reached their destination. The four of them stood before a set of closed double doors, like the entrance to a boardroom.

"Sicarius will see you now," Wolf said. Robin moved forward, but when Batgirl tried to follow, two of Goliath's massive harry arms blocked her path. "Not you," Wolf insisted. "You will wait out here."

Stephanie frowned behind her mask. "Excuse me?"

"Sicarius will see only him."

"It's alright, Batgirl," Robin said as he grasped Stephanie's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Just wait here for me, please."

"Great," she said with a roll of her eyes, snatching her hand away from his. "So while you get to talk to the mysterious queen of the spider people, I get to be baby-sat by the hired help?"

Goliath growled something barely intelligible, but Wolf shook his head. "We have other duties to attend to. You can entertain yourself just fine on your own." And with that, the pair of them turned to head back to the elevators.

Batgirl glanced around herself, noting the hidden cameras around the hallways and entrance. "Are you sure you want to go in alone?" she whispered as she casually fiddled with her hair, using the movement to also put the listening device Robin had slipped her just then against her ear. It was a small black disk the same color as her cowl.

"No matter what you hear," Robin whispered back just as softly, "Keep your composure and record everything that comes out of her mouth. This information is vitally important. We can't leave without it."

Batgirl frowned. "What did you and Nightwing find in New York that's so important that it requires all this?"

Robin turned to face the door. Behind his mask, he closed his eyes. "I promise I'll explain everything on the flight home. Just... please trust me?"

Stephanie blinked at him. It wasn't often that Damian made a request like that so sincerely. "Alright. Just be careful, okay? If you need me to bust in there, fists a-blazing, just say the word." She smiled at him. "I've got your back after all."

He nodded, then opened the doors just enough to slip inside. What had once been an executive board room had been converted to an exotic throne room in an

Arabian style. It was illuminated by multiple oil lanterns that gave off an all too familiar aroma to the teenage hooded vigilante. Standing at the far end of the room, he caught sight of a lone female figure who was gazing through the massive windows that overlooked the cityscape of Hong Kong below. Damian reached up to remove his mask, but kept his hood in place.

"It's been a long time since you've darkened my doorway, Damian."

"Not long enough, Mother." Author Notes: A relatively short chapter, compared to the others, but a major player in this tangled web has finally been revealed.

For those of you White Collar fans who aren't too familiar with the Batman universe, Damian's mother is a woman by the name of Talia Al Ghul. She is one of the daughters of Ra's Al Ghul, was a former lover of Bruce Wayne, and has a complicated relationship with all the men in her life.

In this story, over the past seven years, Talia has been a busy woman. She broke ranks with her father some time ago and forcibly took leadership of a group of assassins named the Council of Spiders. This is a group that has been at odds with the

League of Assassins for a number of years. Red Robin even fought against them before his disappearance.

Her alias within the group, "Sicarius," is inspired the full scientific name of the six-eyed sand spider "sicarius hahni." It's a spider which lives in the deserts of Africa, is a relative of the recluses, and is said to be one of the deadliest spiders in the world, with a venom so potent that even today no anti-venom exists for it. The genus name

"sicarius" also means "murderer" in Latin.

And here ends Part 2 of Confidence Lost. These PDFs will consist of at least seven collected chapters each here on DeviantArt. However, the individual chapters have been initially released on my FanFiction.net account and on my Tumblr blog. If you would like to stay up-to-date with the chapters as they're posted, then you can read them either at http://www.fanfiction.net/~crscott or at http://crscottfanfics.tumblr.com/ .