Two hours later, in the evening Robin sat alone on the balcony overlooking Manhattan from Emma's apartment high above the concrete. Basically she had excused herself to give them some bonding time but she'd also liked to be alone for a moment, while they cooked.

Red tail lights, illuminated street signals, lighted apartments in skyscrapers. In the darkness of the night and the coloring of artificial lights the city did not look much different from Seattle center. More busy, louder, more gray and black. Well, definitely more cabs and more noises and more skyscrapers.

Scratch that, the big apple looked so much different.

New York was cool but Robin missed her home.

She missed the stupid Space Needle she could usually care less about.

She missed the green streets of Seattle.

She missed the sight out of Henry's windows, onto a larger patch of trees behind a car repair shop in Greenwood, blocking the sight of everything except for the light blue sky.

She missed having the opportunity to spend time with Alice.

Robin sighed and sank lower into the loveseat.

They had seen each other again on the so called Beignet night. Alice had introduced Robin to Tiana, a very friendly and beautiful black woman who owned the food truck Rollin' Bayou and appeared to know Alice quite well. It had made Robin wonder, if Alice usually nourished herself with takeout. Then again they had seen each other shortly on Saturday evening and Robin's musing was confirmed: Alice did eat a lot of takeout.

Alice had needed to work and they had decided against going to the movies but hung out in some restaurant close to Cornish and Robin couldn't have been happier. In hindsight watching a movie had been a stupid idea, motivated by rules of dating. No movie could be as exciting as sitting across Alice and listen to her vivid stories and watch her face brighten and fall like a spectacle. Albeit short their meeting had been Oscar-worthy.

Also Robin had been able to continue her mind map of Alice's likes and dislikes: She liked playing chess and tracing clouds just as much as painting. Her favorite food were marmalade sandwiches. She disliked rudeness, animal abuse, every form of inequality and canned mushrooms; in that order by Alice.

Lost in her memories of the captivating blonde she almost did not notice that her cell phone started buzzing.

In her mind Robin immediately pictured sky blue eyes and a cheerful grin. With her heart drumming pleasurably and a flutter in her stomach she reached for her phone.

It was her mom.

Grin dropping for several reasons of disappointment – granted, it not being Alice was the most crucial after thinking about her – she opened the message.

Guess what I had to hear through my sister, who heard it from her son, what my own daughter did not tell me about? Her mom had written.

Oh no. Henry didn't, did he?

Robin jerked her head around and sent him a glare through the window.

Unfortunately, he did not look back but seemed very busy cooking while Emma sipped on a bottle of beer leaning against the counter watching his rehearsed moves with a spatula.

Texting back Robin tried to stay vague, not knowing how much her mom knew about Robin's current plans for the future, Care to elaborate?

I hope you are less secretive with the woman you are apparently dating, her mom instantly replied.

Oh...

So her mom knew about Alice.

Robin would definitely need to give Henry a smack against the back of his head for telling her aunt about her latest – acquaintance?

But that thought became less important now. Robin's stomach sank when she contemplated on what to tell her mom.

She had always been able to talk to her.

Growing up her mom, besides driving her crazy from time to time, was her number one confidante.

She had been the first and only person Robin had shown her weaknesses to; from weeping bitterly about the death of her turtle Toby to throwing a furious fit over a grounding, the reasons of which were pretty reasonable to Robin now – you simply should not steal your mom's stocking to use as slingshot and then catapult stones against the neighbor's wall. It was so not cool.

Her mom had been there for Robin when she'd come home with a black eye after one of the mean kids made fun of her because she had no dad.

And her mom had been understanding when Robin confessed to her she liked girls more than boys. A lot more.

Her mom had been the one person to show Robin strength and to teach her self-esteem.

But after the chasm bashed between them, Robin was not sure if she could cross this divide.

She wanted to, though.

She wanted to tell her mom everything about Alice. About the first person who had knocked the breath out of Robin's chest and who had made her want to go out of her way just to see her again.

She started to write, Her name is Alice and she is –

Robin swallowed hard. Her thumb levitated above the keys.

She wished she could; but knew she couldn't.

She deleted the message before continuing.

The space in between was too hallow, filled with the emptiness of uncertainty.

Plus, if she was being honest, she was not sure about the status of Alice and her either.

She and Alice had something going on but neither of them had questioned nor confirmed the romantic nature of their meetings. What if it was all in her mind and she projected her own emotions onto the glow of Alice's eyes when she looked at her? What if Alice only wanted a friend? A friend, Robin knew, she needed.

It wasn't that Robin would cut off their connection, if that was everything Alice wanted. She would see it through even if it would be a serious form of self-flagellation looking at those pinkish lips and not wanting to kiss them. Maybe even impossible. But she could definitely try to keep herself from kissing them – she guessed.

All in all Robin was screwed pretty much.

Clicking her tongue, she decided to take the low road and summarize for her mom the things speaking against the phrasing "dating". Mom, I would have told you but we aren't actually dating. We met like four times. I don't know if she even wants to date me.

Again it did not long for her mom to answer. Self-consciousness? Well, that's a new shade on you.

Robin rolled her eyes. It was so typical of her mom to tease her. typed in, Can we talk about this when I am back home?

This time it took her mom longer to reply after Robin sent the message.

Of course, Green Bean. When you are home, we talk, her mom wrote.

Robin frowned at the screen, eyes glued to the nickname. Her mom hadn't called her that in years.

Nostalgia pressed down onto her chest as if somebody sat on it.

Truth be told, she wanted to go home but also return to her mom. She wanted to finally settle things with her, so Robin would be able to tell her all about this new, partly scary but more so exciting experience.

Never would she forget what her own mother did to her father. But there was nobody who could set off the journey of forgiveness than herself. If she wanted to filling the hole that the revelation had left between them, she needed to start digging instead of burying.

"Here, kid."

Robin looked up to see Emma, who shed her red leather jacket and was now sporting a red tank top and blue denim – seriously, how did she look like this being so old? – and held two bottles of beer, one offered to Robin.

"Thanks," Robin took the dark bottle and clinked it against Emma's before taking a big gulp. The beer tasted bitterly with a sweet note at the end.

Emma did not say a thing for a while and leaned against the railing, approximately fifteen stories above New York's sidewalk.

Robin raised a questioning brow at her, inwardly praying it wasn't Henry who sent her. He was always so big-brother-ishly concerned.

Tapping two fingers against the bottle Emma smirked at her and finally said, "Look, I wanted to talk to you about the PI thing. I think you've got what it takes. Just like it is with bounty hunter being a PI is not an easy business. You can't be afraid of confrontation. You have to have effective communication skills and be investigative, pay attention to the details. All of that I can see in you."

"But?"

"But there are almost no jobs that don't come with a price. Especially in the private sector. Most stuff you'll do as PI is fill in and sort paper work and fear for not being able to pay the bills. If you think, the gain outweighs the pain, good. If not, you better look for something else. There is no cherry picking and this is a too tough business to be half-heartedly invested in it."

"Can I ask you a question?" Robin leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Sure," the older woman replied with a nod.

"Are all the assignments like this? Prying on married men from inside a car? Do you ever feel like you do something meaningful? Like you truly make a change?" Robin inquired, hoping Emma would give her a sort of satisfying answer, and ignored the buzzing of her phone.

"Sure there are those jobs," Emma nodded and pressed her lips close together. "Years ago I caught someone who left his wife and child after spending all his money. They were drowning in all of his debts he left them behind with. Once I caught him, they were relieved from the charges. The wife came to thank me in person." Emma flashed her smile before her lips ceased into the opposite direction, "On the other hand there are always those cases in which you feel like you work for the bad guys by taking in somebody who needs help."

Eyeing her, Robin sat back. She wasn't sure if this answer was satisfying enough for her. But becoming a PI had been the first idea Robin had ever felt comfortable with. Did it matter, that not everything about the job was good? Which job truly was?

"How do you know it's the right path?" Robin asked.

"How do you ever know?" the older woman replied with a shrug. "By walking it, of course."

The image of a yellow brick road rose to Robin's mind. She wondered if this was her yellow brick road or just a dead end.

"But if it's that what you want," Emma continued, "helping people, I think you chose wisely in wanting to becoming a PI over a bail agent."

Robin nodded and ran her thumb over the mouth piece of the bottle, letting it run circles like her thoughts.

"Later one is more about kicking asses," Emma joked.

Robin huffed, relieved by the blonde's latest assessment. Raising two eyebrows and the corners of her lips into a grin she replied cockily, "I could kick some asses, too."

The older woman chuckled and tilted back her beer, taking a deep swallow Robin could hear from her position. Wiping her mouth the blonde said, "Sure you do, kid. And you probably will," and gave Robin a wink.

"Thank you, Emma." It occurred to Robin that she had not shown her gratitude for the effort Henry's mom had made for her. "For showing me what it looks like on the streets and telling me the truth."

"You're welcome," Emma uttered. "Honestly, I've expected these days to be fun because of Henry but I must say, you are a nice addition."

"Honestly, it's fun to be here," Robin replied with a smirk.

Emma patted her once on the shoulder upon passing her. Within the door frame she stopped to look back at Robin, "Wanna come in?"

"No, I think I'll stay and savor the big apple's odor until dinner's ready," Robin breathed out cheekily.

"Kay, kid."

Sipping on her own beer, Robin looked to the limited skyline of Manhattan. She had to lean forward and turn her head to see a few stars.

It appeared to her that in three hours Alice would be able to see the same sky. The very thought reminded her that her phone had vibrated a few moments ago. What if it was Alice?

Looking at her phone, Robin's heart froze and a shiver ran down her spine.

Alice had sent her two messages.

Opening the app with shaking hands, Robin grinned even before reading them.

I had the most curious call by the CoCA today, Alice had written, directly followed by, Do you happen to know something about it, Margo?

A laugh rumbled through Robin's chest and bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Feeling all humorous again Robin countered, It's Margot with a "t".

She was kinda proud of the alias, she had come up with. It was inspired by the actress Margot Robbie, who was cast for the role of Maid Marian picking up Robin Hood's bow.

West had been an addition she made when she remembered that she had called her mother the Wicked Witch of the West, making herself Wicked Witch's daughter.

Luckily she did not have to wait long for Alice to reply, And I thought I was a bit too extreme at times.

Here it was, a window of opportunity to address their status, if there was a status at all. It was time to take a leap and jump through it.

Well, let's say when I meet a cute British girl and don't know how to find her, I am ready to take drastic measures, Robin wrote and sent the text before she could bail out. After pressing send, doubt blew up in her mind like an airbag going off.

It was way too forward, wasn't it?

The shiver of panic sipped through Robin as she stared at her phone.

Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes like hours as she waited for Alice to reply.

Had it been too much?

She screwed up, didn't she?

Burying the upper line of teeth into her lower lip, she typed another message, deleting two rash drafts in the procedure before finally setting with, Are you alright? Hope there aren't repercussions for you. Are there?

Robin released a sigh of relief when she saw that Alice was typing something.

No, it's fine. They said working with artists, they received a lot more curious calls, Alice wrote.

While Robin typed in a response, Alice sent her a new text, It was not even the main reason they called.

Robin deleted her old message and wrote back, What then?

Someone made an offer on my painting!!

Robin shot up from her seat. So fast she became dizzy.

That's awesome! Congrats!

It is! Alice replied. It's bloody awesome!

A goofy line of emoticons followed which made Robin snort and her heart soar in a happy songs.

'Not as much as you, painter girl,' Robin thought while grinning at the rectangular device in her hand as substitute.

She was grateful that her momentous delusion of typing in a "N" instead of a "R" – how the hell she could have been so deluded was beyond her. They were not even close on the keyboard – had not gotten into her way of getting closer to Alice.

She could not wait to see her again.

A/N: Such adorable dorks!^^

Working on a Glossary for this to explain some terms. It will be an extra chapter, I'll post soon. ;)

As always if you liked this part, vote and/or comment, please. Thanks!^^