I stared at the mirror in front of me, hands on either side of the sink while medical supplies lay forgotten at my side. My hair might be different, but it was still me.

Underneath it all.

The cut on my arm needed to be checked and cleaned.

To be fair, I had tried, even going so far as to unwrap the original bandages on it. The dark circles beneath my eyes distracted me and the following emptiness held me in place.

It had been a long time since I'd seen my reflection. In my plight to be rid of Slade Wilson forever, I had become exactly what I feared.

Ruthless and unforgiving.

Like him.

Mindlessly, pulling off my shirt, it left me in a well worn sports bra. Scars littered my skin, more than I had when Dick was alive. Slash marks and punishments left raised welts and sunken indentions. Even the old wound from when the mountain was invaded held a prominent place among them.

Messy stitching marred my arm where Slade had made his final mark.

At least he couldn't hurt me anymore.

I was supposedly safe here in Metropolis, against my better judgment I'd let Superman take me to the sunny city. Bruce wanted me in Gotham but I couldn't take the memory of Dick. Not when I was the reason he was gone. Alfred had given me the old Flying Graysons poster from Dick's old room.

Perhaps the butler had known I was mourning. Maybe he didn't. Slade never really gave me the space to simply miss my best friend. I couldn't even attend the funeral. Closing my eyes, I gripped the counter top as bubbling grief began to swell to the surface.

No.

I needed to get settled in my new apartment, I needed food and I needed the cut on my arm to be wrapped.

There, that was something.

Focus on that.

"Do I want to know why you're bleeding?" Tim's voice made me jump. He was leaning against my bathroom door frame with his arms crossed.

How hadn't I noticed his arrival? Slade would've punished me for being sloppy.

"Probably not." I grabbed at the scissors, carefully cutting each stitch. "Don't you have a patrol or Wayne Enterprises meeting to attend?"

"I'm not the one with a bloody arm to clean up." He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. "Besides, I was just in a meeting that happened to be in Metropolis. Lex Luthor is a piece of work in business deals."

Luthor. What a prick. "He's also a special kind of annoying when he's on the board of directors for the Light."

"You've met?" His brow furrowed.

"Tim." I set my scissors down, picking the now loose threads out of my skin. "Slade was my father. Of course I've met other supervillains." They were all irritating. It was one of the few things Slade and I had in common.

"Can you prove it?"

Right. The new Team had a few run-ins with the Light. "Course I can, Timbo. Doesn't mean I will."

He stared at me. "Why not?"

"I have secrets of my own I need to protect, I'm trying to build a new life here and I can't do that if my old one is breathing down my neck."

Tim sighed. "You could come with us, on patrol I mean."

Switching gears. I see.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not made for the hero business kiddo." If he wanted to play the distraction game, I could too.

He gave an indignant squawk. "You aren't even that much older than I am. I'm not a kid."

"Five years is a big difference." Wrapping my arm one handed, I tied a knot at the ends, pulling it tight with my teeth.

"Still. You've been cooped up in this apartment since you got here." Tim shrugged. "You might even like it."

I didn't even want to know how he knew that.

"No thanks Timbo. Maybe in another life I could've been a hero, but not in this one."

He pointed at me. "Ah so you're open to the idea that you could be a hero."

I grabbed my shirt off the counter, slipping it over my head. "If I went on one patrol would you leave me alone about it?"

Tim slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Mayhaps."

"Fine." I tucked a few knives into their hidden holsters, ignoring the raised eyebrow I received in response. "I feel naked without them."

Instead of commenting on that, Tim took a bracelet out of his suit pocket. "You need to wear this at all times. We'll make you something more practical but for now it'll do."

"What is it?" I asked as he moved forward and slid it onto my wrist.

"Tracker." He held up his own wrist where a watch sat neatly. "We all have one." He then pointed to the clasp. "That's your panic button, press it and any Bat within a hundred miles will come running."

I shot him a deadpan look. "You're telling me Jason or Damian will come running to my aid?" The Wayne boys weren't my biggest fans.

"This is a last resort kind of thing. They know not to ignore it." Tim took a step back, allowing the both of us some space.

And I was grateful for it.

"Thanks Timbo, but I think Kent already has that covered." I nodded to the watch on the counter, it had a subtle Superman crest on it, something that could likely be mistaken for merchandise. "He gave it to me when he helped me set up the apartment."

Tim's brow furrowed. "You should wear that too. It doesn't hurt to have back up."

"What sort of trouble are you thinking I'll be getting into?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Just promise me you'll keep them on?"

"Fine." If it made the little Bat feel better, I'd do it. "Is that the real reason you snuck into my apartment?"

He shook his head. "Well, partly. I came here to tell you to be careful. Bruce withdrew from the League after Dick's death. Tensions were getting too high. Superman is an ally for now. The rest of them..."

Not so much.

After everything that happened, I couldn't say that I'd blame them.