AN: First of all, huge thanks to Chaseha-Wing and DeathXByXSelf for reviewing. Secondly, I think this is probably the last chapter. In fact, this is now officially the last chapter, and if you guys want me to write more, I'll do a sequel, because that way I can time-skip. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this - I've had so much fun writing this fic, and thankyou all for reading it. I love you guys :)

Glad Rags

This is crazy. It may have been my idea, but that doesn't mean it was a good one. I'm honestly not sure I dare look.

"C'mon, Jase – open your eyes!" Damnit, why does Dick have to be so persistent? Oh, yeah: because he's determined to keep this weird family-thing together. I do as I'm told.

"Wow…" How the hell does one person make something like that in a month? It certainly looks alright on the hanger. Guess I should probably really try it on now, shouldn't I? Fine. I hold out my hands for the new costume, and Dick tosses it at me. Joy. Clothes are awkward to catch. I retreat into what Dickie jokingly refers to as the 'bat-locker-room' to change. I want to be sure I don't mind this before I let anyone see me in it.

The jumpsuit is a heck of a lot snugger-fitting than my previous outfit was, but it's comfortable, and the dark grey is at least a practical colour. The symbol on the chest is a little strange – it's a sort of red batsymbol, only the wings sweep up to my shoulders and along my arms, in much the same way Dick's blue stripy-bird-thingy (well, it doesn't really look like a bird any more, but whatever) does. In fact, I think he's taken a lot of the basic design work from his Nightwing suit – the boots are almost identical to his own, though they're a little more rigid, and the thick cuffs at the tops are scarlet, not blue. On closer inspection, he appears to have decided that boot-cuffs are a good place to put my krises. I'm not complaining. The fingerstripes on the gloves are not something I would have put there myself, but the lock-picks and hira-shuriken in the cuffs are a nice touch. Dick seems to trust me not to use lethal force, or he wouldn't be giving me quite so many blades.

As promised, my leather jacket is there, too. He hasn't changed it much – just a few more pockets and holsters where I hadn't been able to sew them for myself. It's also quite significantly cleaner than it was when I last saw it, and it smells of expensive leather dressing. I have to leave off putting it on for a few minutes whilst I figure out the gun-harness that goes under it. Bizarrely, I seem to be packing more weapons in this new get-up than I was in the old one. I wonder if Bruce knows…

The domino is exactly the same as the old one, except that it has more sophisticated lenses – the sort I wore when I was Robin. Funny how you never realise how much you've missed having thermal cameras until you get them back. My helmet, however, appears to have lost its bottom half – it cuts off in a sort of beak-like shape level with the bottom of my nose. And I seem to have a built-in communicator. Well, makes a change from working alone, I guess. I grin at the pair of blue-bladed hunting knives that are the last things on the floor. Trust Dick to get his colour scheme on me somewhere. Possessive, much? I slip them into place in the slender pockets on my thighs; then risk a glance in the mirror at the whole ensemble. I look…armed and dangerous. Actually, the suit also kind of accentuates my ass, but I don't want to think about that too much. Still, it isn't bad, and I can always wear my other costume for Gotham work, if I decide the added freedom-of-movement in this gear isn't enough of an incentive to make it my full-time hero-stuff.

"Hey, you ready yet?" Dick's voice is ever-so-slightly muffled by the door, but his impatience is painfully evident. I'm beginning to suspect the close fit of my new gear was mostly intended for his benefit. Ah, well… I step back into the main cave, smirking at the appreciative whistle from Nightwing.

"I take it I look alright, then?" Actually, I think I like letting a little more of my facial expression show – it makes winding people up so much easier…

"You look lovelier than ever, my sweet Condor, even if I do say so myself." I pass over his utter lack of humility to focus on a slightly more alarming point.

"Please tell me you didn't just make a 'Battle of the Planets' reference…" It's bad enough that he spends his spare time watching ancient TV shows, but does he have to bring me into it?

"I wouldn't have thought of it if you didn't share a name, but, now that I think about it, the personality's almost identical, too… Are you sure you're not running another identity?" I'd resent the implication that I'm hot-headed and somewhat trigger-happy if it wasn't true.

"Remind me why the hell I admit to knowing you…"

"I have a sexy ass." He says it so matter-of-factly that it's impossible not to laugh. Even if it's true, which it most definitely is – he really does have the most beautiful backside. And that's really not what I'm supposed to be focussing on right now.

I stick out my tongue at him and make for my bike. After all, this is to be Dickie's first night back on patrol, and the first joint-patrol the pair of us have made since before I kicked the bucket.

"Come on then, Eagle," I stress the name to remind him that I can play his games, too, "let's get going. I'll race you to the 'Haven." I gun the engine and streak off out of the cave. I can hear him start up his own bike and follow me.

"My name isn't Mark, though!" The communicator works, then. I laugh at his indignant tone and speed up a fraction.

"Well, if we run by your system, Tim's called Princess, so I'd say you got off lightly." The only reply I get to that is a burst of the slightly crazed laughter that he was famous for back in his Robin days. Tonight's going to be fun.